Page 8 of Echoes of Us
Ashley’s heart ached as she held him, her fingers threading through his hair. She didn’t say anything, letting him cry until the sobs quieted into heavy breaths.
Carefully, as though handling something fragile, Cole took her hand and moved it to rest on the swell of her stomach. “I wish… I wish I deserved this. Deserved you.”
Ashley grabbed his hand tighter, pressing it firmly against her stomach. “You do,” she said fiercely. “I love you. This little baby loves you. And I can help you–we can find a good therapi–”
He silenced her with a gentle kiss, his hands trembling as he cradled her face. Then, with the same care, he swept her into his arms, carrying her back toward the car.
“Did you come here alone?” he asked softly, his lips brushing against her temple.
Ashley flushed.
“Didn’t think so,” Cole murmured, glancing at the nearby vehicle where Sarah was crouched behind the wheel. “Sarah, come out.”
Shyly, Sarah stood, looking like a guilty child caught in the act.
“You’re a 32-year-old woman. How do you explain this?” Cole said, though his smile softened the words.
“Don’t argue with a pregnant person?” Sarah suggested, wiggling her brows in a way that made all of them laugh.
* * *
Sarah drove on the way back; Cole had insisted. The man himself stayed behind to spend more time with his mother. Ashley hadn’t argued. She wasn’t sure what to say to him after the day they’d had.
The car was quiet except for the hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle as Ashley tried to steady herself. Her emotions were a mess–raw and tangled, flaring up and settling again in waves.
“You okay?” Sarah asked, breaking the silence, her voice careful.
Ashley shrugged, her eyes not leaving the road ahead. “Fine.”
“Sure,” Sarah said lightly, glancing at Ashley. “Because ‘fine’ always means fine.”
Ashley let out a sharp breath, her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress. “I just–” She cut herself off, shaking her head. “I don’t know, Sarah. Today was… a lot.”
“Tell me about it,” Sarah muttered. “I mean, I didn’t even know you were capable of stalking.”
“It’s not stalking,” Ashley said defensively, though her tone lacked conviction. “I just needed to be there.”
Sarah gave her a pointed look. “And here I was thinking pregnancy hormones just made people cry over dog food commercials.”
Ashley didn’t laugh. Instead, she pressed her hand to her temple, her voice low. “It’s not the hormones.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Dude, you have the perfect marriage, a loving husband, and hey, at least it’s over now. You faced it. That’s something, right?”
Ashley didn’t answer. She leaned her head against the window, the cool glass grounding her as she tried to make sense of the tangled emotions still clawing at her chest.
When they reached Sarah’s apartment, she slowed the car to a stop. Sarah leaned against the open car door, her freckles catching the soft glow of the streetlights. She crossed her arms over her chest, her tall, lanky frame making her movements seem exaggerated and almost comedic.
“You sure you’re good to drive to Belmont tonight?”
Ashley nodded, her voice quiet but firm. “I need to.”
Sarah studied her for a moment, then smiled faintly. “Well, tell your parents I said hi. And next time, give me a little more notice before you drag me on a multi-state emotional rollercoaster, okay?”
A weak laugh escaped Ashley despite herself. “Thanks for coming, Sarah.”
“Anytime,” Sarah said, stepping back and waving as Ashley drove off into the night.
The drive to Belmont, usually passing by a breeze, felt longer than usual, the familiar twists and turns of the road stretching endlessly before her. Her thoughts churned, replaying Cole’s words, Ezra’s cutting remarks, and the look on Cole’s face at the cemetery.
When she finally pulled into the driveway, the porch light was already on. Her mother stood in the doorway, her arms folded but her expression soft.
“Ashley,” she called out as Ashley stepped out of the car. “Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick!”
Ashley offered a tired smile, the weight of the day pressing heavily on her shoulders. “I’m fine, Mom.”
Her mother didn’t look convinced but pulled her into a warm hug anyway. The familiar scent of lavender clung to her clothes, and Ashley closed her eyes briefly, letting the embrace settle some of the unease in her chest.
Her father appeared behind her, his brow furrowed but his eyes gentle. “Good to see you, sweetheart,” he said, patting her on the back. “Come on in. You must be starving.”
Ashley stood in the doorway, the soft overhead light catching the natural waves of her dark hair.
Her dress clung slightly to her growing bump, the fabric creased from the long drive.
Her tired eyes scanned the familiar walls of her childhood home, a flicker of nostalgia softening her expression as she stepped inside.
The scent of freshly baked goods and her mother’s cooking immediately wrapped around her, making her feel truly at home.
After dinner, the house was quiet, except for the faint creak of the floorboards as the old heater kicked on.
Ashley sat cross-legged on her childhood bed, wrapped in the familiar weight of a quilt her mother had sewn years ago.
The room hadn’t changed much–soft pink walls, shelves lined with books she hadn’t touched in years, and the faint scent of lavender from a candle burning on the desk.
Her phone rested on the blanket beside her, the screen still lit with Cole’s message:
On my way back to you. Don’t wait up.
He’d sent it an hour ago, but she hadn’t replied. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard before she set the phone down again, the words she wanted to say caught somewhere between her heart and her head.
The flicker of the candlelight danced across the ceiling as she leaned back against the headboard, her hands clutching the edge of the quilt. Her thoughts, as they so often did, turned to Cole. To the man she loved and the man, she didn’t fully understand.
She closed her eyes, exhaustion tugging at her, though her mind refused to rest. Her imagination wandered, unbidden, to an impossible thought: What if I could have been there? Back then, when he needed someone most. Before Dale, before everything.
The idea lingered, sharp and bittersweet, like the first pang of a memory that wasn’t hers to keep.
She thought of Cole, younger, unguarded, struggling through the weight of grief that had shaped him into the man he was now.
She thought of Dale, a figure she only knew in fragments, and wondered what kind of boy he had been and what kind of brother he was.
If I’d met you back then, would it have made a difference?
The question lingered as her breathing slowed, the quilt tucked under her chin. Sleep came slowly, wrapping around her like a tide, pulling her and the questions under.