Page 3 of Bourbon Breakaway

And it’s this reality that finally releases a tear down her cheek. “Yes, Ashton. I thought you’d say yes.”

My chest is tight. Flames crawl up my neck. I can’t let her hurt. Over me? Convincing her this isn’t real seems like the only thing that will help. “It’s not right, though… you don’t mean it, Jo… you liking me is like… some game.”

“Game?” She says it as if it’s the most offensive word in the English language.

But it’s true. Her crush on me is an age-old cliché. “Yeah, as in, I’m the first guy you’ve trusted in your life besides your dad and brothers and it’s just natural to think you have feelings for me, but it’s not real…”

Her gaze is equal parts fire and pain. She grits her teeth. “I know the difference between fantasy and reality, Ashton.”

“Hey…” I pull her head into my chest. I won’t fight with her, but besides a hug, I don’t know how else to fix this.

“Just…” She plants her hand on my chest and eases herself out of my embrace. “Just take me home. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Jolie says little in the car on the way home. Her head rests against the glass of her window, her once strong, sure posture deflated in her dress. By the time I get her home, she slips out of the car like a puddle.When her mom, Joy, opens the door, she has her arms in a welcoming semicircle and a warm smile ready for her daughter. Jolie pours into her embrace. Her mom’s expression quickly morphs, and her gaze shoots down at me over Jolie’s vulnerable bare back, like Joy thinks something worse happened than it did.

Then again, can anything worse happen than a broken heart?

Joy waves me off without a word and escorts her daughter into the house.

That night, I lie in bed for hours with her lively, sassy expression on my mind. I still see the cute arch of her eyebrow when she said we didn’t have to tell anyone; the brazen innocence in her crooked smile, her not having the first clue how losing her virginity to me would have caused bigger heartache than me saying no.

Though no is the final andonlyanswer, an ache to make her feel better rattles my bones. I’ve known Jolie since I was eight and she was four. Joey was the little shadow following me and Logan around. Colt was always too mature for her. Dash, too aloof. So, the little tomboy had us. Even knowing her all those years of skinned knees, a broken arm, bruised from puck after puck under goalie gear and layers of pillows… I never once saw her cry.

This is the worst fucking night of my life on so many levels.

After hours awake, I decide I can change the course of at least one thing.

I rush to get dressed and leave a note for my mom before sneaking out of the house. Half an hour later, I tread quietly up the Hunters’ driveway, having left my car at the end and hoping like hell I don’t wake their shepherds. Her mom is alone now, and I don’t want to scare her.

Jolie’s cell is off, so throwing pebbles at her window is my only option. I throw, and throw, and wonder why my aim isn’t better when I’m so good at putting a biscuit in the back of the net.

Tink.

Tink.

Tink.

Finally, the curtain peels aside, and a flash of long, golden hair mimics its motion.

“Joey!” I whisper-shout. Thankfully, the bedroom next to hers is Logan’s, and he’s gone.

The sash slides up, and Jolie’s head pops out. Golden hair tumbles down as if I summoned Rapunzel into the cool mountain air. Her body is halfway out the window, and she holds a dumbbell in her hand. “Ashton? What the hell?”

I can’t help but ask, “Why are you holding a dumbbell?”

“In case you were an intruder or something.”

I press my fingers into my eye sockets.This girl.“Come down.”

She glances at her pajamas. “Wait. Did you change your mind?”

It’s a question full of hope which might have made me laugh, except I have to say, “No.”

“Why are you here, then?”

“I can’t leave you like this. I care about you. Come on. I leave tomorrow and I’m not going knowing I made you cry.”

A sigh leaves her lips. “It’s fine.”

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