Page 13 of Ashley & the A-Listers (Sweetverse)

13. ABSENCE

ASHLEY

Boxes and boxes and more boxes filled her vision. On the coffee table, on the floor, even in the chairs.

Photos.

Hundreds of photos of Ashley, her mom.

There were no photos of her dad, for good reason.

Ashley sat on the floor between the coffee table and couch, spreading photos out on the surface until they blurred.

She blinked the tears away, but more welled and fell.

It’d been like that for a few days now.

Which she supposed was normal when one lost their mom.

With a hole in her chest, she wanted nothing more than to pick up the phone and cry to her, to be held.

Any second, Ashley expected her to walk through the door, ask her about this ridiculous mess, and gather her up in a hug.

It carved her heart out every time she told herself that wasn’t possible anymore.

Ashley let out a pitiful sob and buried her face in her hands.

Her cheeks were hot to the touch from all the crying, but she couldn’t stop, didn’t know if she ever would.

How did people walk around with this much grief in their heart? Ashley couldn’t fathom going back to work, acting normal again.

It just hurt too much right now.

The pile of photos grew as she tried to pick her favorites for the funeral, a slideshow of memories flickering behind her eyes as she watched herself grow in the pictures, watched her mother age, watched their lives together.

They both had long dark hair, and Ashley was partial to hers because of how much she looked like her mom.

In the moment it was thrown up in a messy ponytail, but she pulled it over her shoulder and raked her hand through it only for her fingers to catch in the tangles.

She paused, touch hovering over the next photo in the stack.

They’d gone as matching witches one Halloween, their faces painted green and their hair wild. Next to each other, they looked so similar, and Ashley hoped with her whole heart that she carried the best parts of her mom within her even now.

That Halloween had been so silly. As were all the holidays. With just the two of them, her mom had tried to make them all special in some way, so Ashley wouldn’t feel like she was missing something. Their home wasn’t filled with a pack of alphas to care for and look after them.

It’d been them against the world.

And apparently… Dylan.

He appeared in so many of their photos, like he was another part of the family. His Frakenstein’s monster makeup matched the green of their witchy faces, and a wet chuckle spilled out of her at some of the pictures. Dylan holding her broom over his head where she couldn’t reach it. Their spread of candy, even though they’d been just on the verge of too old to trick or treat.

Dylan’s makeup melting off because he’d been sweating so much.

They must have traded who was behind the camera, because it was all a mixture. Her mom picking out candy out of the pile, ruffling Dylan’s hair, braiding Ashley’s when its length had gotten on her nerves.

The photo of all three of them made her chest hurt, and she stared at it for a long, long while before she finally picked up her cell phone.

She hadn’t heard from Dylan.

Not since the concert three fucking years ago.

Even if they weren’t speaking, even if he hated her for whatever reason, he had loved Lorie, too. He deserved to know.

She scrolled to the bottom of her messages. The very bottom, the graveyard of their friendship. She didn’t hate herself enough to reread them, so she typed a new one.

And deleted it.

And typed it again.

She went around and around until she was crying fresh tears, and finally hit send.

Ashley felt like she was drowning. She couldn’t catch a breath because her mom was gone, and her best friend had left years ago, and she felt so alone.

How did people heal from something like this?

Ashley stared at the phone, expecting a response, because it was her mom, and if she needed anything right then, it was Dylan.

Even if he was miles away, even if it had been years, she felt like some part of him still cared.

But her phone remained silent, and as the light outside faded, so too did her hope.

She felt crushed all over again, and tossed her phone across the room, wrapped her arms around her knees, and tried to ignore the pang of hurt clawing its way through her chest to her heart.

A knock at the door sounded, and Ashley groaned. She did not need another casserole from the neighbors. At this point she felt guilty, because she knew so much of it was going to go to waste.

The last thing she wanted to do was eat when she felt nauseous from grief.

But she got to her feet, and tried to remember how to smile, dashing the tears from her cheeks as she opened the door.

“Oh,” she said, and blinked up at the pair before her. “Hey, guys.”

Kenzie and Jordan stood on her step, a huge bag of the greasiest fast food balanced between them.

Kenzie’s lip wobbled as she took Ashley in, and stepped forward and scooped her in a big hug.

“I’m so sorry, Ashley.”

It was just the smallest touch of kindness that Ashley needed, and it broke whatever dam was remaining.

She wrapped both arms around Kenzie and hid her face in her neck, letting the tears flow.

Jordan followed them inside, shutting and locking the door, before she ushered them towards the living room. At the last second, as she saw the mess of photos and the sloppy attempt at a bed that Ashley had made between the couch and coffee table, she redirected them to Ashley’s bedroom.

They held her while she cried and she realized that this was how people continued on in such pain. With the crutch of others, with people who cared.

Ashley cried, and they cried with her, and then they ate soggy fries and greasy burgers and made her shower and took care of her when Ashley didn’t have anyone.

Ashley had them, her best friends, and she’d never been more thankful for the gym in her life, that she’d met these two, and that they’d come when she needed them most.

Maybe one day she wouldn’t compare everyone to Dylan.

But if she did, in that moment, it felt like they were winning.

Catching her breath on the mat, Ashley lay against it, chest rising and falling as her pulse raced.

Dylan lay not far from her. In fact, their hands could brush if she allowed it.

She didn’t. But the thought was there.

Now that they’d kicked each other’s asses, she felt like some huge wall had been broken down. Like her anger was righteous. Like she didn’t have to be afraid to ask all the questions she had.

“You know,” she began, breath sawing in and out of her lips between words, “the last time I heard, you were all packed up with a bunch of alphas a few hours from here.”

Ashley kept her eyes trained on the ceiling for as long as she could, but she felt the weight of Dylan’s stare fall on her, so she gave in, turning her head.

For the first time in what felt like years, she met Dylan’s gaze, and didn’t shy away.

His brow was furrowed, dark eyes deeper than she remembered, and he was still breathing hard, too.

Good.

“I was with a pack of alphas for a while. We were looking for an omega. They found one. In Gemma.”

Ashley lifted an arm and covered her mouth, rolling her head back up to stare at the ceiling.

Humor bubbled up in her, and she couldn’t help but chuckle behind the barrier of her palm.

“You’re kidding,” she managed.

“I wish I was,” Dylan said. “I removed myself from the equation pretty quickly. That was… shit, a couple years ago, I guess.”

“Do you still talk to them?”

“Of course I do. They’re good to her, so I visit when I can.”

“That’s good of you,” she said, and the conversation lulled.

Her breathing was almost back to normal, and now she was out of words. Maybe she was still too scared to ask the questions she wanted to know the answers to most.

Why did you disappear?

Was it my fault?

How come you never texted? Called?

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Instead she let the silence lie and wondered if she’d ever be brave enough to ask them.

“How’s your mom?” Dylan asked suddenly, quietly.

Ashley’s breath caught in her chest, and a pang of hurt bloomed, fresh and bloodied, like a knife in her ribs.

She turned her head to him again, wondering if the pain she felt was visible in her eyes.

“How can you ask that?” she asked, sitting up, ribs hollowed out once again with the spade of a simple question.

In flashes, she remembered all the times Dylan had come over, had stayed with them, had let her mom love him when his own family had failed to.

Her throat was tight as she said, “Dylan, you know my mom died years ago.”

She watched the grief cross his face as he flinched back from the information. He dragged a hand down his cheeks, wiping the sweat away, and Ashley pushed to her feet, intending to stalk off.

This was a mistake.

Of course it was.

She didn’t know what had happened to make Dylan so different from the kid she’d grown up with, but she wasn’t interested in entertaining whatever had taken his place.

“This was a mistake,” she muttered, and waved a hand off.

She hadn’t taken the first step when a hand reached out to circle her wrist, holding her in place. The instant she tugged back, Dylan released her, and he lifted his hands, expression pleading.

His scent was on her skin.

She wished she didn’t like the idea of that.

“Ashley, wait. What do you mean, ‘I know’? I don’t know anything!”

Her breath was like shards of glass in her throat. “I reached out to you when she died, Dylan. If only to let you know.” What she’d wanted was her best friend during the worst time in her life, a raft in churning waters, and he’d left her to drown. “And you ignored me.”

“Don’t run,” he said, taking a step towards her when she shifted as if to walk away once more. “We can’t…” He shook his head. “Do this again.”

“ We? ” Ashley growled, and backtracked, pushing a finger into his chest. “ You are the one who ran away, not me.”

Her chest was rattling with so many emotions, anger and confusion and grief that would never fade.

He winced at her words, but met her gaze with all of his regret in his dark chocolate eyes.

“It’s possible you texted my old number. I had to get a new one not too long after I… left.”

Ashley drew her arm back, crossed it with the other.

“I wouldn’t have received any messages you sent.” His eyes flicked over her face, and something like sorrow rooted there.

“You reached out?” he asked, voice impossibly soft.

It was the same softness he’d had even as a kid. The same gentleness she’d loved about him.

“I did,” she said, and tried to keep her voice even.

She saw it cross his mind, the idea that she’d reached out to him in a time of need and he hadn’t been there.

She hoped it hurt him as much as it had her.

She’d spent years feeling so stupid, wishing she hadn’t put so much of her heart into him. Wishing she hadn’t been so vulnerable with him. That she’d been meaner.

“Would you have even answered?” she bit out.

Dylan rocked back on his feet. “Of course I would have. Of fucking course I would have. Fuck, Ashley. I’m so sorry.”

She ground her teeth together. “Sorry for which part?”

“All of it,” he said, chasing her words with his own. “Leaving the first time, freaking out, and not being there when you needed me.”

He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, and even in her anger Ashley could tell this hurt him, rehashing the past.

Good. Maybe he’d have just a tiny taste of how she’d felt all these years.

“How did she die?”

Ashley cleared her throat and averted her gaze. “Heart attack. She was here one day and gone the next.”

Dylan swallowed, and she watched every nuance of his expression. She refused to allow the words that swelled to cross her tongue, but they crossed her mind.

She wasn’t the only one.

“I’m sorry, Ashley,” he said, and his voice was as soft as she’d ever heard it. “Sorry you had to go through that. She was so young.”

Ashley nodded, choking back the hurt she’d been shouldering for years. “She was. And healthy, except for the stress of holding down two jobs to support a whole-ass teenager.” Her eyes clouded with bitterness for a moment, and she blinked it away. “There was no one to blame, so.”

“How old were you?” he asked.

Part of Ashley didn’t think he deserved this information because he hadn’t been around. Another part of her realized maybe he did deserve it for that same reason.

Look what you missed.

“I was twenty-one. Still at home with her while I worked.”

Dylan raked a hand through his hair. “Shit. What’d you do?”

She paused, wondering if he had any right to ask the question, if she wanted to even go there. “Kenzie and Jordan were a huge crutch for me,” she said, glossing over the darkest time of her life. “Still are,” she admitted, and cleared her throat.

“A pack?” he blurted, and then his cheeks colored.

He blushed.

Part of Ashley wanted to lie. To make him realize that yeah, his actions had consequences, and this particular consequence meant he’d missed his chance.

Meant he’d fucked it up. Irreparably.

But Ashley was a grown adult with a conscience.

“No. Just friends. Not that it’s any of your fucking business,” she said, low and slow.

Dylan swallowed. “I deserve that. I’m sorry.”

Ashley nodded once, because if she kept going it would only hurt the both of them.

Why did she have to be the bigger person?

This was her territory, and everything was fine and dandy until Dylan showed up. He just had to come and disturb her peace with his stupid face and his scent.

His dumb, familiar, lovely scent.

“I need to get going.”

“We need to talk more,” Dylan said, and almost reached out.

Ash glanced him up and down. “I’ve still got several weeks left to train Cameron. I’m not going anywhere.”

The look she gave him was sharp enough that she might as well have said the words on the tip of her tongue. I’m not the one who runs.

Properly cowed, he stepped back, and dipped his chin at her. “Alright. See you tomorrow then, I suppose. You’ve got a client to chase down.”

His head jerked toward the empty room, which River and Cam had vacated a while ago. “Shit,” he hissed, and dipped his head at her. “See you next time?”

Ashley busied her hands while he walked across the gym, collected his stuff, and left.

She didn’t bother turning to see if he looked back; she didn’t bother turning to watch him walk through the door.

Even though she wanted to.

When the door hissed shut, she leaned against the wall and groaned.

His scent still filled the room, along with Cam’s, all mixing together until they were as jumbled as her thoughts.

She reached up to tighten her ponytail—a nervous habit—and paused halfway, her wrist lifted to her nose.

Notes of fresh-cut grass and dew met her senses, and she hated that she liked it, that it helped center her.

Annoyance burst in her chest even as she inhaled deeper, chasing every bit of him left behind.

Her first instinct was to chase him down and coat herself in his scent because it was just… so good.

With a snarl she lowered her hand, fists tight as she grabbed the scent-erasing cleaner.

She cleaned every inch of that room, until every trace of Dylan was gone.

Cam, too.

Until it was a perfectly blank, lemony slate.

Ashley was the only one remaining.

It didn’t feel half as satisfying as it should have.