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“He could have left a few without the sprinkles,” Dirk grumbles, reaching in and helping himself.

“It’s not a real donut without sprinkles. Everyone knows that.” I take a big bite. “Oh my god,” I say with a mouthful. I sink into my chair, savoring every sugary morsel.

“Did you really think the kid would stay away?” Jesse asks her husband as she leans over to brush crumbs out of his beard.

“Yes, I did.”

With each bite I begin to feel bad, because Ash brought us coffee and donuts, and the only thing I gave him was permission to open a letter that did nothing but complain about his club following me around. I was furious back then, knowing it was at his request.

The three of them chat effortlessly as they sip their coffee. How could I have ever been angry at any of them? The club has given me more attention in the past three months than my parents have in the last six years.

I guess I didn’t believe it at first … but they’ve never given up. They’re still here.

Raffe is listening to Jesse tell a funny story about her son-in-law, but I sense him watching me out the corner of his eye. When his eyes do finally meet mine, I offer him a small smile. Today I reach for the package from Ash on my own without a prompt from anyone.

“There better not be no flirty stuff in this letter,” Dirk says.

His wife sighs loudly, and Raffe opens his mouth to scold him, both being protective of me after last night. But Raffe’s reprimand doesn’t leave his mouth because my laugh interrupts it. Dirk is being Dirk, and I like that he doesn’t sensor himself around me. He treats me like he treats everyone else. It makes me feel included.

“I’ll never tell,” I tease, ripping open the package.

Lexie,

Jackson tells me you’ve been combative with them lately. I understand you’re angry, but I’m not sorry. I will use every available asset within my reach to protect you. So, my fiery little red fox, you can be as mad as you want to be.

You’ll never face the world alone again.

Love,

(Not your enemy) Ash

My stomach tightens at the mention of the nickname he gave me. I hold a strand of my hair between my fingers, and for the first time I don’t have any anger toward Ash or the club. I heard once that anger is a manifestation of grief. Maybe that’s true.

I reach into the box, ruminating over all of these new feelings. Inside I find a hand-carved fox, curled up and asleep on a little round piece of wood. My pulse quickens at the thought of Ash’s strong hands meticulously carving it. My finger drifts over the little fox’s head.

My fiery little red fox.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been very nice to everyone. I do appreciate what you all have done for me.”

They remain quiet, sensing I have more to say.

I promised Ash I would be good before he left … I failed. I once read that it takes two years of consistent behavior to repair trust after breaking it.

But today could be day one of that two years.

I want to earn Ash’s trust. My eyes lift to the people at the table. I want theirs, too.

“Can I have my phone?” I ask.

Dirk’s eyebrow rises, and I don’t hate it. It makes me feel like he cares about me.

“I think it’s time to downsize my contacts,” I add quietly.

He slides it out of his pocket and pushes it toward me. When I turn it on, I see all my missed messages. It turns my stomach. So many people have messaged me, but not one to ask if I’m okay.

“Maybe it would be best if I start fresh. A new phone, a new number. Besides, I’m sure my parents will eventually shut this one off. I don’t really need one right now, do I?” I chuckle sadly, rubbing my temples.

Dirk tosses it to the floor. His foot pauses in the air above it, his gaze locked on mine. A test perhaps?