Page 14 of Ashley & the A-Listers (Sweetverse)

14. PROGRESS

DYLAN

Nic offered him a friendly glance that Dylan didn’t have the wherewithal to return as he left. Dylan was processing. He stalked to his car and sat inside.

Lorie had passed?

Once upon a time, Dylan would have gotten lost in the sudden grief that clutched his chest. Would have floundered and made the entire moment about himself and how he felt with this new information. Once upon a time, maybe he would’ve tried to run from these emotions.

But he’d run once, and it hadn’t gotten him very far.

So Dylan let the guilt seep into him, let it weave through his ribs and grip his heart.

If only he hadn’t taken that job; if only he hadn’t busted his phone that year.

If only he hadn’t run.

He hadn’t just left Ashley behind. He’d left Lorie too, who had been there for him when his own mother hadn’t. Fuck .

Maybe he should’ve considered it a possibility—it just hadn’t occurred to him. His own mother was still around, though they didn’t speak much. She had a beta now who, last time he’d heard, made her very happy.

Dylan could run himself in circles about it. Instead he thought of what he could change.

What did he have control over?

He could be there for Ashley. Like he hadn’t years ago.

But he also had a job ?—

A job which he was slacking on royally.

He pulled out his phone and… found a text from Cameron.

Don’t freak out, River drove me straight home. Here’s a ping for proof of life. Don’t fuck this up.

Fuck.

He knew he should rush after Cameron. It was literally why he was here—to protect that stubborn omega, no matter how much he hated it.

But he was… home. And the ping was right where it was supposed to be. The security system was excellent, and Cameron wasn’t alone . He had River.

There was no immediate threat to Cameron. He didn’t constantly have to look over his shoulder for shadows… not on this job.

Cameron would be fine.

Just this once.

Nothing will happen. He’s safe.

The glass doors to the gym opened just as Dylan put his phone away. Ashley walked out, bag over her shoulder, a frown on her face, her brow furrowed.

It looked like much more than the small duffle was weighing her down.

It felt like he should look away, like he shouldn’t see her without the mask she maintained in front of him.

But she’d already bared part of herself on the mat with him, opened up to him a little, told him how she felt. At the very least, he could meet her halfway.

Before it was too late, he pulled on the car door, realized it was locked, and cursed as he fumbled for the locks. His shoes met the pavement and he cleared his throat as he closed the distance between them.

His hands were sweating.

She heard him, and glanced up from where her attention had been locked on the ground. He caught the surprise in her expression before she hid it behind her indifference, that visage she protected herself with.

With the evening sun glaring down on them, he steeled himself. Her lips parted to question him, but Dylan got there first.

“I would’ve been there,” he told her.

Her head cocked to the side. She used to do the same exact thing when they were younger, and the memory overlaid the present like a punch to the gut.

“What?” she asked.

“I would’ve been there, if I’d gotten your message about Lorie. I would’ve been there for you. I just wanted you to know that.”

The lines around her eyes… softened.

“I know things are… weird. But no matter what, I would’ve been there for you through that. I wish I’d gotten your message, and I’m sorry. I loved her, too.”

Ashley’s espresso gaze darted away, and she closed her eyes for a split second before they leapt to his.

“Would you like to see some photos of her?”

Dylan nodded before he could think twice.

Ashley sighed and adjusted the bag on her shoulder. “Do you remember where I live?”

She still lived there?

“Of course.”

As they walked through the parking lot together, she seemed to glow even amongst the street lights. In the gym, she seemed so larger-than-life. Here, just walking, she was… Ashley.

“Guess I can’t tease you for being short anymore,” he said softly.

Ashley shrugged. “Sucks to suck.”

Dylan bit down on his smile and shook his head, a familiar affection blooming in his chest. He tamped it down as he walked her to her car, and Ashley gave him the address just in case, but he didn’t need it.

The drive was smooth, and she was easy to follow… toward a place he once knew like the back of his hand.

Dylan sucked in a deep breath as they pulled in. It was the same house.

The house he’d practically grown up in.

It hit him like a sucker punch to the solar plexus, and he had to get it to-fucking-gether before he got out of the car.

Ashley was waiting for him by the door, and he just knew she was watching his reaction. It was like stepping right into the past. Not a damned thing had changed.

She flicked on the light in the foyer, and besides a few more modern pieces of furniture that she’d clearly added for convenience—like the small table she deposited her keys on, or the new couch—everything was exactly as he remembered from their childhood.

“I didn’t expect you to still live here, in my head, I guess,” he rambled.

“Mom left it to me.” She paused. “I’ve been thinking about selling it.”

“You shouldn’t sell it,” he blurted, a gut reaction.

Dylan glanced over at her, saw her eyes flicking around the room, and he wondered what she was seeing. If it was different from his perspective.

He saw a house filled with love. A rocking chair they used to fight over as kids until they squeezed in next to each other and passed out, only for Lorie to carry them to bed.

Carpet that was worn out, with tracks made from years of tiny feet stomping a familiar path, trailing all the way up the stairs.

He saw love. And memories.

But Ashley had lived a whole life since those memories; his opinions had no place in them. He shook his head. “Sorry. Ignore me.”

“It’s not big enough for a pack,” Ashley murmured, so quietly he almost didn’t hear.

The thought rocked Dylan. “What? You want a pack?”

Ashley’s gaze caught him for a moment before drifting away. “I mean… yeah. I’m an alpha. I want a pack to call my own. A pack to protect.”

Dylan didn’t know why the information surprised him. Ashley was clearly a very capable alpha, a badass. The way she’d put that other alpha down at the gym? Impressive.

She deserved a pack. But he imagined her at the center of a pack, being spoiled beyond measure. Not doing the spoiling.

“Anyway,” Ashley continued, and Dylan realized he’d never responded. Ashley’s stare lingered for a split second before she made for the stairs. “Stay there,” she said. “Or make yourself comfortable or something. I’ll go grab the photos.”

As she made her way upstairs, he glanced around and for the first time… ever, he felt uncomfortable within these walls.

The last time he’d been in them, he’d… well. He’d been picking Ashley up for the concert.

Dylan scrubbed a hand over his face and went to wait in the living room. He didn’t know why it felt wrong to take a seat on the couch, but it did. He leaned back, throwing an arm across the upper cushions, and then leaned forward, elbows on his knees, attention turned toward the floor.

Above him, he heard the floors creak as she returned, and he sat up straighter, eyes on the open doorway, anticipating.

With a medium-sized plastic tote in hand, she stepped into the living room, pausing for a beat upon finding him there, as if surprise he hadn’t left.

Dylan was already at the left end of the couch, but he scooted over even more to make room for her as she took a seat in the middle. She plopped the box down like the weight was too much to handle.

Ashley cleared her throat, one hand placed atop it.

“I’m gonna be honest for a moment. Is that okay?”

Dylan nodded.

“I’ve already been through these, and it was the darkest time in my entire. Fucking. Life,” she began, and Dylan swallowed. “So I’m going to go get a glass of water while you open it and begin, and then I’ll be back. Would you like anything?”

“Water is fine,” he answered.

“Great. I’ll be just a minute,” she said, and patted the top of the box gently before she got up and left the room.

Dylan watched her go, and then stared at the box.

Damn. He couldn’t believe this was all they had left of Lorie. That she wasn’t going to come down the stairs and say his name and hug him like she used to.

His chest hurt, and he braced himself before popping open one side of the plastic box, and then the other.

Stacks and stacks of photographs were inside. Polaroids and faded developed photos. As far as he could tell they weren’t in any kind of order, but they were stacked carefully.

Some had the dates on the back, but most were blank.

Lorie’s face was visible in photos on the very top.

Standing outside, by the tulips she’d been so proud of planting, hands still dusty with dirt. A photo of her and Ashley, dressed in matching paint-splattered smocks.

He wondered if they’d put the camera on a timer for that one.

A few photos down he found one of her and Dylan. It was wintertime, and Dylan chuckled at the giant puffy coat he had on, looking like a blue marshmallow next to Lorie. Snow was falling in the photo, and he remembered playing with her and Ashley in it until she’d made them come inside to warm back up, and then sent him home.

Ashley must have taken this photo.

God, Dylan had practically been here more than he’d been at his own home. He doubted his mom had photos like this.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, and pulled out a photo of him and Ashley. They had to be… what, nine? Ten?

They looked so small. So cute.

So completely unprepared for the big bad world.

He rubbed at his face as he heard Ashley’s steps returning, and shook his head.

“You okay?” Ashley asked, placing a glass of water on the table in front of him.

“Yeah. Yeah,” he said, sipping the drink to wet his throat. He cleared it once more. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”

“Me either,” Ashley said, and reached forward for one of the photos. “I think I’ve been through this box a hundred times.”

Dylan’s heart lurched. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

Ashley… shrugged. “Kenzie and Jordan were there to pick up the pieces with me.”

“I wish I’d gotten your message,” he said. “I would’ve come back.”

“You say that like it would’ve been easy. To come back.”

Her fingers were tapping at the glass in one of her nervous ticks. He could hear his heartbeat. A clock ticked somewhere.

“It would’ve been,” he told her.

It would always be easy to come back to her. The question was whether he deserved to come back.

Ashley turned to look at him, confusion evident in her expression, the knot of her brow. “If it would’ve been so easy to come back, why leave in the first place? Why totally drop off the face of the earth?”

Dylan sat his glass down and rubbed his hands on his shorts. When he’d been eighteen, he’d been so sure running was the right move. It was almost… embarrassing, how sure he’d been. How wrong he’d been. He just needed to tell Ashley—to let her in, to be open, like his therapist suggested.

Let her in. “I… freaked out. I was becoming an alpha and I had all these fucking feelings and I didn’t know how to handle it. All I knew was that I didn’t want to turn out like my dad.”

Ashley grimaced. She knew all about his family, how his alpha dad had dipped once he’d found an omega and left his beta mother behind to struggle on her own. How she’d been so preoccupied with an omega daughter that she hadn’t had time for a son.

Ashley waved a hand in front of herself, the motion gentle, slow. “So you left … because you didn’t want to turn out like your dad… who left.”

Dylan froze and stared at a spot very far away, past Ashley, past the living room, past the present moment.

“I…” Dylan floundered. He hadn’t seen it like that; he’d seen it as… “I thought I was protecting you, I guess?” he mused.

He’d been over this with his therapist several times, but in this moment, facing the person he’d hurt most, he couldn’t remember a single fucking bit of it.

“I’m not saying I didn’t hurt you,” he corrected. “I’m saying I didn’t leave thinking, ‘this is how I’ll hurt Ashley.’ I left thinking, ‘I have to go before I hurt you.’” He shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s all fucked up. I’m sorry. I’ve been in therapy about it.”

Ashley cocked her head to the side.

“Regardless of your intentions, the damage was done. If it wasn’t for this job, with Cameron, would you have come back?”

Dylan nodded. “I wanted to figure my shit out first.”

“Ten years wasn’t enough?” Ashley asked.

“I was just… freaking out,” he said. “I was presenting as an alpha, and I was so young. I panicked.”

Ashley nodded, the ginger in her scent practically burning. “So you were a kid. Just like I was a kid.”

Dylan slumped back into the cushion. “Yeah.”

Ashley stood up. “Well, even as a kid, ” she practically growled, “I wouldn’t have just left with no warning. No messages, no answers. Because even so young, I had the sense that it would’ve hurt you. Or at least, I thought it would. Maybe I was wrong.”

Dylan leaned forward again. This was all going so badly.

“I deserve that,” he said. “I fucked up. I went about it all wrong. I should’ve just… talked to you.”

“Exactly!” Ashley whirled on him. “What was so scary that you couldn’t talk to me? ” she said, and motioned to the box full of photos of them growing up together.

She was right. And yet, even now, Dylan didn’t have the guts to look her in the eyes and tell her he’d bolted because he realized he… he’d thought alpha equals bad dad. Bad partner. Bad person. He didn’t want to subject Ashley, the girl of his dreams, to that.

So he’d gotten out early, tagging on with his sister to “protect” her venture into the bigger city, and he’d made himself never look back until he could be something good for her.

He wanted to control it.

And this… this emotion in his chest was just something he didn’t think he’d ever be able to control.

“I feel like I’m still not getting it,” she said, and crossed her arms. “And I’m still so…” She uncrossed them and flexed her fingers in a wringing motion. “…So fucking mad .”

“You deserve to be,” he said softly.

“Stop that!” she said, raising her voice a bit before clearing her throat. He wanted to tell her he didn’t mind. “Stop being so understanding and calm!”

Dylan stood, because he felt silly staying seated. “I do understand, though,” he offered.

Ashley groaned and raked her hands through her hair, messing up her ponytail. “I’m so mad at you, and I was so hurt when you left, and then mom died, and you didn’t answer my messages, and all this time I thought you just didn’t care. And now here you are, and I’m having to rewrite the last seven years simply because you couldn’t bother to reach out to let me know your number changed! Do you know how fucked that is?” she asked.

He nodded. “Really, really fucked. I messed up. And I want to fix it,” he said, meaning every word of it, hoping. “If you’d be up for that.”

Ashley shook her head. “I don’t even know where you’d start.”

Dylan shrugged. “Like this? Apologizing, looking at pictures. You can yell at me some more, if you like. And I’ll… stay. I’m not going anywhere.”

“What about when the job is over? When Cameron doesn’t need you to be his bodyguard anymore?”

Dylan shrugged. “I don’t have a pack. My sister is fine. I can go where I please.”

Ashley narrowed her eyes at him. “And it pleases you to be here?”

“It does,” Dylan said, and tried to put every ounce of emotion into the phrase. “Just because I left, it doesn’t mean I stopped thinking about you, wondering how you were, or regretting my decision in the first place. I convinced myself Gemma needed my help, my protection, because she was an omega going to a big, scary city. And for whatever reason, that seemed less scary than staying here and facing what was happening. So. Now is my chance to fix it. And I want to do that, however you’ll let me, for however long it takes to be your friend again.”

Ashley stared at him for a long, long moment, and Dylan felt like she could see right through his little glass house of lies he’d told himself.

“Please,” he added, because it never hurt.

Her lips pursed, and she crossed her arms. “Fine. But I’m gonna make you work for it,” she said, lifting her hand when he let his excitement bleed into his expression. She patted the tote. “That's enough emotional turmoil for one night. Take these with you. So you can take your time.”

His first instinct was to tell her they could do it together, like they should’ve done all those years ago. But that offer served him more than it ever would her.

He laid a hand on the lid. If she’d had to go through them alone, he could, too. Why give her one more burden to bear? Maybe one day, in the future, they could revisit them together, when the wounds weren’t so raw.

“I’ll take good care of them.”

Like he should’ve been doing when she’d needed him.

Ashley cocked her head to the side to study him, and Dylan felt like a bug under a microscope.

“You better,” she said, and Dylan knew a social cue when he saw one, so he made his way to the door.

“I’m sorry, again,” he said, once he was standing on the other side, like so many other times, dropping Ashley off after their late-night hangs, saying goodbye on the doorstep, his headlights splashing across the garage.

“I know you are,” she said. “See you next time?”

A hundred memories overlaid the moment, those exact words having fallen from her lips countless times as kids.

But this time was different. He would prove to her that he meant it, that he was sorry, and that he could be better. It would take time, and he had a lot of groveling to do.

She was worth it. Once, being an alpha terrified him. But now he was going to show her that he was a worthy alpha.

One worthy of her.

“Yeah,” he said, heart full and head fuller. “See you next time.”