Page 12 of Resist (Stingrays Hockey #2)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Ains?”

Ainsley glanced toward the doorway, bleary-eyed, where her brother hovered. Since reading Coulton’s “thankful for” post, she’d been staring at the wall, full-on zombie style for God only knew how long.

She’d passed exhaustion about thirty miles back and was now meandering aimlessly in utter numbness. Mario and Luigi could probably walk in here right now, shoot her in the chest with Mick’s stolen gun, and she wouldn’t feel a thing.

“Ains?”

Eli had stepped inside and was now closer to her, his bloodshot eyes crinkled with lines that suggested worry. She must look horrible if her brother, who’d clearly spent the last week sleeping on the streets, was concerned about her.

“Hey,” she said woodenly. She really—REALLY—didn’t have it in her to go toe to toe with Eli today.

“We get robbed?”

She snorted mirthlessly because duh. “Yep.”

“Where’s Mick?”

“Hospital. Dying.” On another day, in another lifetime, maybe she would have tried to break that news with more compassion, but she was out of emotions. All of them.

“Oh. Fuck.”

“Yeah. Fuck,” she repeated.

This was probably the most heart-to-heart conversation she’d ever had with her brother.

“Who broke in?”

Ainsley started to glance toward her room but stopped herself. She had no intention of ever stepping foot in that bedroom again. Right now, she was considering asking Eli if she could hunker down next to him in whatever alley he’d been squatting, because she was done with this place.

“Given the state of my room, I’d say Mario and Luigi found a way to get repaid.”

Eli frowned, confused.

“The two assholes you borrowed money from,” she clarified.

“Shit,” Eli breathed.

It wasn’t an apology, but it was probably as close to one as she’d ever get from him.

“Mick’s really dying?” he asked.

She nodded.

“What are we going to do?”

Ainsley might be the younger sibling, but that was only in years. Maturity-wise, she’d always been the older one, the one left to deal with all her brother’s mistakes, the one to make decisions and pay the bills for their fucked-up family after Mick got sick. Eli was twenty-six, but he might as well be a toddler in terms of helplessness.

“I don’t know,” she said. She didn’t have the energy or the desire to take the next step. She was fine with sitting right here in this lumpy recliner, staring at the peeling paint, and breathing in the black mold she was certain grew behind the walls.

“You going to sell the bar?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said again.

Eli fell silent, running a hand through greasy hair that hadn’t seen a drop of water in way too long. “You going to keep the apartment?”

“Which word is tripping you up, Eli? I, or don’t, or know?”

His eyes narrowed, but only briefly before he sighed. She was in worse shape than she thought if Eli was pushing aside his go-to response to everything. Aggression.

He glanced around the apartment, his gaze fixed on the door to Mick’s room. “He’s really dying?”

“Yeah,” she replied in a softer tone. “Doctor said it could be days or even just hours.”

Eli scowled. Ainsley didn’t detect a bit of sadness in his expression. Not that she expected to. She figured the only reason her brother was still in the picture was because he’d seen her and Mick as easy marks the past couple of years. Once their father was gone, she doubted she’d ever see Eli again.

Her phone pinged. It was still clenched in her hands from when she’d read the Facebook posts. Glancing at the screen, she saw the text was from Coulton. He’d sent a happy Thanksgiving gif—the one with Monica from Friends shimmying with a turkey on her head.

Ainsley sighed and clicked away without replying.

Eli must have caught a glimpse of her screen. “You still dating that hockey player?”

Ainsley, who’d been blissfully numb, felt the first twinge of pain at Eli’s question, even though the answer to this one matched the others. “I don’t know.”

She didn’t have the brain or emotional bandwidth to figure out anything at the moment, not even her feelings for Coulton. She didn’t know why it mattered so much that he hadn’t been thankful for her. It was a stupid thing, really, but she couldn’t shake off the pain of being overlooked or grouped in with that new friends descriptor.

Eli remained there for a few minutes more, the silence between them lingering too long for his comfort. Ainsley had turned her attention back to the wall, her brain too tired to focus on anything else.

“Should I stick around?” he asked.

Ainsley lifted her gaze to her brother, surprised by his offer, when she could see he would literally rather be anywhere else in the world. She shook her head. “You don’t have to.”

“Oh. Okay. Yeah.” He hesitated. “Um. Do you have a few bucks I could borrow? I’m really hungry.”

Her gaze slid down her brother’s tall, lanky frame. His cheeks were more sunken in than she’d ever seen them and his clothes hung on him. She reached into her bag and pulled out her wallet, handing him all the cash she had. A whopping twelve dollars. “Here.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking the money from her. “I guess…”

Eli stared at her, and she could tell he didn’t know what to say. Clearly, he could see they were at the end of something…everything.

Unfortunately, she had experience with this part, because she knew exactly what to say.

“Goodbye, Eli.”

Her brother swallowed heavily, then nodded, and—like father, like son—left without saying goodbye back.

* * *

Coulton checked his phone for the millionth time. He’d sent Ainsley a few texts since returning home. A silly gif to wish her a happy Thanksgiving, then an invitation to join him and his parents for dinner. In the last one, he told her how much he’d missed her, asking if she wanted to get together soon.

He could see she’d read all of them, so her silence was bothering him. Especially since their last text exchange from yesterday—while brief—had been playful and funny.

“Still no response?”

Coulton shook his head. Upon first arriving home, his parents had both inundated him with questions about Ainsley, whom they were excited to meet.

He’d answered every single question, then he opened up and shared…well…basically everything. His mom and dad weren’t just his parents; they were two of his best friends and, as such, he had spent a lifetime telling them everything. And because they were amazing, they responded just as he expected. They were outraged by her father’s and brother’s treatment of her, concerned about the fact she was working herself to exhaustion and not eating enough, and anxious to spread some of that spoiling they did of him to Ainsley.

Mom was currently in the kitchen, working on Thanksgiving dinner. Coulton had offered to help, but she knew how hard it was for him to sleep on the plane, so she’d insisted he relax on the couch and visit with Dad, who was playing with Sofia.

“I’m starting to worry,” Coulton confessed.

Dad grinned. “I’ve never seen you like this over a woman.”

Coulton didn’t bother to deny he was completely smitten over Ainsley.

“She’s most likely busy,” Dad pointed out. “Didn’t you say she was opening the tavern today?”

“Yeah.” Coulton glanced at the time on his phone. “She usually opens around noon.” It was close to three, so he supposed Dad could be right. Regardless, he hated that she was working through the holiday. If anyone needed a break, it was Ainsley. He was going to work overtime to convince her to close the tavern for a few days around Christmas.

“Coulton,” Mom said, stepping into the living room, her phone in hand.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, when he noticed her distressed expression.

“I was scrolling through Facebook while I waited for the timer on the sweet potato casserole to go off.” She held her phone out to him. “Have you seen the post about what you’re thankful for on the Stingrays page?”

Coulton shook his head, reaching for Mom’s phone. The second he saw the photo, he rose.

“Shit.”

Dad stood as well, alarmed. “What is it?”

“I didn’t have a chance to tell Ainsley about seeing Evelyn yet.”

Dad put Sofia back in her cage after Mom showed him the post, while Coulton looked for his car keys.

He needed to clear things up with his girl.

“Mom,” Coulton said, as he started toward the hallway.

“I’ll put dinner on hold,” she said, perfectly aware of what he was going to say. “You go make things right with Ainsley.”

He nodded, walking into his bedroom and sinking down on the bed to put on his shoes. He’d just tied the first tennis shoe when his phone rang.

His heart raced—with relief and fear—when he saw Ainsley’s name on the screen. “Ains,” he said, answering immediately. “Listen, about that picture on Facebook,” he started. That was as far as he got before she interrupted him.

“Can you come to the tavern?” she asked, in a voice that was all kinds of wrong.

“Yes. I’m on my way right now.” He finished tying the other shoe, his phone cradled between his ear and shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I just…” Her voice broke. “I just need you.”

He grabbed his keys. “I’ll be there as quick as I can.”

Ainsley didn’t say goodbye, just disconnected the call.

Coulton raced to the door. “Ainsley just called. Something’s wrong.”

“You need us to come with you?” Dad offered.

“No. I’ve got it. I’ll text you as soon as I figure out what’s going on.”

“We’ll be here if you need us,” Mom reassured him.

Coulton made the drive from his place to Cherry Hill in record time. Luckily, traffic was relatively light, as most people had already done their traveling for the holiday and were most likely tucking into their turkey feasts.

When he opened the door to Mick’s Tavern, he thought perhaps he’d missed Ainsley, because the lights were off and the place appeared to be deserted. Which didn’t make sense, considering the door was unlocked.

“Ainsley,” he called out, walking toward the bar.

“Here,” her soft voice replied, and he paused, turning to find her tucked into the corner of a booth.

Coulton walked closer, but with the lights out, the room was too dim for him to make out her face. So he returned to the front door, locking it before turning on the lights.

Ainsley’s head was bowed, her hair hanging around her face like a curtain.

He lowered himself onto the seat next to her. “Ainsley,” he said gently, using one finger under her chin to tilt her face toward him.

Jesus.

What the hell had happened? When he left her Tuesday morning, she’d been all smiles and flushed cheeks. Now, just two days later, he suspected a light breeze could blow her over. She was pale, except for the circles under her eyes that were so dark she looked like she had two black eyes. To make matters worse, he swore she’d lost weight she didn’t have to lose.

“Angel,” he said, drawing her into his arms. She sank into him almost bonelessly.

“I’m sorry I called you,” she murmured against his chest.

He pulled back slightly, cupping her cheek. “I always want you to call me.”

“I know your parents are in town.”

He leaned his head forward, forcing her to hold his gaze. “Always call me,” he stressed. “ Always. ”

She blinked a few times, before finally just closing her eyes for good.

“What happened?” he asked.

“The hospital called a little while ago. Mick died.”

Coulton’s chest tightened, his heart aching for Ainsley. While she’d never been close to her dad, it was clear she was in pain.

“I’m sorry.”

She started to shrug but stopped, unable to brush off her feelings this time. “I’m tired,” she said, her eyes still closed.

“I know you are. Do you want to talk about it?”

He half expected her to ignore his question, so he was surprised when she opened her eyes and nodded.

Coulton listened as she took him step by step through the past hellish twenty-four hours. Every word she said sliced through him like daggers, as he considered her going through the nightmare alone.

In the course of a single day, she’d lost her father, her brother, her home, and all of her belongings.

Through it all, Coulton kept his arm tucked around her tightly, trying to imbue some of his strength into her fragile frame. His wildcat had gotten knocked down, but there was no way he was letting her stay there.

“Where is everyone?” he asked, glancing around the empty tavern.

“After the doctor called to tell me…” She swallowed deeply. “After he called me, I kicked everyone out. There were only a few people here anyway.” She glanced over at the bar, then ran her hand over the table in front of them. “Eli and I spent most of our childhood in this booth.”

Coulton recalled Petey telling him about Mick raising his kids in the tavern.

“Mick put us here so he could keep an eye on us while he was working. This booth was where I did all my homework, ate my dinner, learned how to cuss, and drew in my sketchbooks. I sat here day after day for years.”

Ainsley was looking at the table, her words coming slowly, spoken so softly, Coulton wondered if she was talking to him or to herself.

“Eli could never sit still, so he was always getting in trouble for roaming around the tavern or getting in Mick’s way behind the counter. He would try to hang out with the customers, and when he got older, he was constantly sneaking drinks of beer. He was ten the first time he got drunk, and when Mick realized how shit-faced he was, he took him into the back room and whipped his ass with a belt until Eli threw up. Then he made him sit on his sore ass in this booth, not letting him stand at all for the rest of the night. You’d think that would have turned Eli off alcohol…but the very next week, he was up again, sneaking more beer.”

Coulton sat quietly as Ainsley recounted several more stories, some good, most bad. He let her talk until she talked herself out. Somewhere in the midst of her reminiscences, she rested her head on his shoulder, and he tucked her close.

The one thing she hadn’t done was cry.

“Ainsley,” he started.

“I saw the picture of you and Evelyn on Facebook.” It was the first time in nearly an hour that she’d lifted her head and looked at him.

He sighed. “She showed up at the hotel to surprise me.”

“You told me the two of you were still friends.” There was no accusation or anger in her tone, which in a lot of ways, made Coulton feel even worse.

“She texted when I was on the plane, headed there, asking if we could meet. I ignored it, hoping to skip seeing her. I should have just texted her back and told her no.”

Ainsley gave him a sad smile. “Why would you do that?”

“I didn’t want you to think there was anything going on between me and her,” he answered honestly.

She nodded. “I haven’t exactly made this easy between us. I struggle with trusting people, and I’ve taken that out on you, even though you’ve never let me down or lied to me. I didn’t realize until today that I’ve given you no reason to trust me . No reason to trust that I won’t cut and run whenever I get afraid.”

“Ainsley,” he started to protest. He wanted to tell her he did trust her, but the truth was, he’d held back on telling her about Evelyn in a text because he’d been worried about losing her.

She placed her hand flat on his chest, just over his heart. “I’m sorry, Coulton.”

He held her face in his palms and placed his forehead against hers. “I’m never going to hide anything from you,” he promised. “I never want to let you down.”

Ainsley blinked rapidly, her eyes wet with tears she refused to shed. “I want to earn your trust,” she whispered.

“You have it,” he said, even as she shook her head.

“I don’t. Not yet.”

He started to protest, but she placed her fingers against his lips. He gripped her hand when she started to pull her fingers away, kissing the pads of her fingertips.

“The truth is I didn’t answer the thankful-for question honestly. Because the main thing I’m thankful for this year is you. Just you.”

She lifted her face to him, smiling, and he leaned toward her and kissed her. His lips slowly and softly worshipped hers, though he kept it tame. Ainsley was the poster child for exhaustion at the moment, and his need to take care of her overrode every other desire.

“Can I ask you for something?” Coulton knew what he wanted would be difficult for her.

She nodded.

“Let me take care of you tonight.”

Her brows furrowed, that same look of confusion she’d worn all the time when they first started seeing each other reappearing.

“I know you’re used to taking care of yourself, Ainsley, but for just this one night, can you hand the reins over to me and trust that I know what you need?”

She studied his face for a moment, and then—thank God—she nodded. “I called you because…”

He saw the first chink in her armor, her exhaustion giving way to pain.

“I don’t know what to do. All I knew was that I wanted you. Needed you.”

Coulton knew exactly how hard it was for his powerhouse of a woman to admit she was lost. “You don’t need to know what to do,” he said. “Just trust that I do.”

He rose from the booth, offering her a hand. She slipped her small one into his without hesitation, leaning on him heavily as he pulled her into his arms. He placed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“It’s going to be okay,” he reassured her. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Her arms looped around his waist as a soft sob escaped. Unfortunately, Ainsley stemmed the dam immediately, cutting her grief short.

“Come on.” Grabbing her jacket and oversized bag from behind the bar, Coulton led her to the street, locking the tavern and pulling down the gate.

It spoke to Ainsley’s level of exhaustion that she didn’t question where they were going. Or what they were doing. Instead, she simply followed his lead.

Once they were in his truck, he fired off a text to his parents, letting them know he and Ainsley were on their way back. He also told them that her father had died.

The ride from Mick’s Tavern to his condo was a quiet one. When Coulton pulled into a parking spot in front of his place, he got out, crossing in front of the truck to help her out. Ainsley hesitated once she was on the sidewalk, looking at his building.

“Your parents are here,” she said, as if just remembering.

“Yes.”

She looked down at herself. “I haven’t showered since yesterday morning. This is my second day in this outfit and I…” She ran her fingers through her hair, giving him a rueful grin. “Are you sure you want to introduce me to them?”

Coulton cupped her cheeks, giving her a soft kiss. “They are going to love you,” he reassured her. “I texted to let them know we were on the way, and about Mick. Trust me when I say, me introducing you to my parents is just one of the ways I’m going to take care of you tonight.”

He didn’t know how to explain to her that what she needed right now was the warmth, love, and unconditional acceptance of a mom and dad. Luckily, she’d get all three of those things in droves from his parents.

She let him lead her inside, her hand in his as they walked into his condo.

Mom and Dad must have heard them at the door, because they walked out of the kitchen together.

They both gave Ainsley warm, welcoming smiles, though Coulton could see the concern etched in his mother’s eyes.

“Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet Ainsley Hall,” he said, still holding her hand. “Ainsley. These are my parents, Chase and Melanie Moore.”

Dad stepped forward immediately, shaking Ainsley’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Ainsley. Coulton hasn’t stopped talking about you since we got here.”

Ainsley slid Coulton a pleased look as he playfully rolled his eyes.

“Way to make me sound cool, Dad.”

“Oh, son. That ship sailed years ago.”

They laughed as Mom moved closer.

Ainsley reached out to shake her hand, but Mom brushed it off, pulling her in for a tight embrace. Mom gave the greatest hugs on the planet.

Ainsley’s surprise was brief, then she wrapped her arms around Mom, sinking into the embrace.

“Coulton told us about your dad,” Mom murmured, holding her tight. “I’m so sorry.”

Ainsley nodded, still hanging on, jerking slightly when she realized how long she’d been clinging to his mom.

Mom—God bless her—just tightened her grip. “Take as long as you need.”

Ainsley sighed, then did just that.

Coulton couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, but damn if watching Ainsley, who’d never known a mother’s love, hold on to his, didn’t have his eyes growing a bit misty. A quick glance at Dad revealed his father was equally affected.

“Thanks,” Ainsley said, when they parted.

Mom patted her cheek affectionately. “Have you eaten?”

Ainsley shook her head. “I, um, I had some toast yesterday morning.”

Mom’s love language was food, food, and dessert, so Ainsley’s response set her in motion. “Then you’re just in time. I need fifteen, twenty minutes to finish cooking and get the meal on the table.”

Ainsley started to shake her head. “No, I don’t want to crash your Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Ainsley,” Coulton said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “I invited you. Several times. Remember? Besides…” He gave her a wink. “I’m calling the shots tonight.”

Ainsley narrowed her eyes. “You’re going to make me regret agreeing to that, aren’t you?” Her teasing tone gave him hope that she was going to bounce back just fine. He hadn’t liked the utter desolation on her face when he’d arrived at Mick’s.

“Oh yeah. Tell you what? Why don’t you grab a quick shower, and I’ll find you something of mine to wear.”

Mom snorted. “I can’t imagine you own anything that won’t swallow her, Coulton. Chase, go grab the green pajamas out of my suitcase.”

Dad was en route, even as Ainsley was trying to refuse the offer. “Oh, that’s okay.”

Mom talked over her. “I’m here four days and I packed three pairs. I am the queen of overpacking.”

Dad must have hustled, because he agreed with Mom’s statement as he returned and handed Ainsley the pajamas. “She’s not lying. She brought six pairs of shoes.”

Mom lightly slapped Dad on the shoulder. “I told you. I wasn’t sure what the weather would be, and I wanted options.”

“Options,” Dad muttered good-naturedly, as the two of them headed back to the kitchen.

Mom scoffed. “This coming from the man who’ll have to do laundry while he’s here because he doesn’t have enough boxers or T-shirts.”

Coulton could hear them play-fighting all the way to the kitchen. He grinned at Ainsley as he gestured in the direction they’d gone. “So…that’s my parents.”

Ainsley giggled. “I love them. They’re so nice.”

Her words meant the world to him. “Come on. Quick shower, big dinner, and then straight to bed. You could do with about twenty-four hours of sleep.”

She allowed him to lead her back to his bedroom. “Maybe I shouldn’t stay, since?—”

“You’re staying,” he said, in a tone that let her know they weren’t continuing that discussion.

He followed her into the bathroom, turned on the shower to let the water heat, then he started undressing her. It spoke to Ainsley’s level of exhaustion that she didn’t fight him, but instead, just let him pull her shirt over her head, strip her bra, then tug off her shoes, jeans, and panties.

There was nothing sexual about his actions, because that wasn’t what she needed. Guiding her into the shower, he watched as she stood under the steaming water, her head bowed, her body almost limp. She was running on fumes.

So Coulton stripped off his own clothing, climbing into the shower with her.

“Coulton,” she whispered.

“Let me take care of you.” He shifted them so that he could wet her hair, then he reached for his shampoo. Gently massaging a lather into her hair, he relished the way she placed her hands on his chest and closed her eyes, completely giving herself over to him. He rinsed the shampoo, then repeated the process with the conditioner. Grabbing a washcloth, he squirted shower gel on it, slowly drawing it over her body.

Ainsley swayed slightly, too tired to stand, so he kept his ministrations quick and efficient. Once she was clean, he turned off the water, wrapping her in one of his big bath towels, drying her. He put the lid down on the toilet, perching her there as he dried himself. After that, he brushed her wet hair, then the two of them moved to his bedroom, where he dressed her in Mom’s pajamas before pulling on lounge pants and a T-shirt. He opted for more casual clothes so Ainsley wouldn’t feel self-conscious eating dinner with his parents in just pajamas.

Mom and Dad had finished putting all the dishes on the table by the time they emerged from his room.

Mom smiled when she saw Ainsley in her pajamas. “You look so adorable in those, you’re going to have to keep them.”

Ainsley smiled softly. “They’re really comfy.” Then her eyes widened as she took in the table. “You made all this food?”

Mom gestured to him and Dad. “Well, I had some help from my sous chefs. Come on. Let’s sit down and eat.”

Coulton and Ainsley claimed one side of his rectangular table, Mom and Dad sitting across from them. They began passing the dishes, Coulton loading Ainsley’s plate with turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, a buttery roll, and cranberry sauce.

“There’s no way I can eat all this,” she said, as he poured a healthy portion of gravy on the meat, potatoes, and stuffing.

“Try,” Coulton murmured.

She immediately went for the stuffing, and Coulton couldn’t help but grin because that was a solid start. He dreamed of his mother’s homemade stuffing, always joking that a huge pan of that and a tub of gravy would be his last meal if he was ever on death row.

“This is delicious,” Ainsley said.

“The secret to good stuffing,” Mom confided, “is to cut the toast into very small chunks.”

“The secret is bacon,” Coulton amended.

“Hear, hear,” Dad agreed, raising his wineglass.

He was grateful to his parents for keeping the conversation going. Ainsley’s hunger was only surpassed by her exhaustion, so while she tucked in, moaning and closing her eyes in bliss after nearly each bite, she clearly wasn’t up for talking.

So Mom and Dad did what they did best. They read the room, decided to put their “get to know his girlfriend” conversation off until later, then took up the task of keeping things light and easy by regaling Ainsley with silly stories from Coulton’s childhood. Ainsley listened with great interest, laughing at all the funny parts. She even asked a question or two.

With nearly two-thirds of her plate gone, Ainsley finally hit the wall. He’d watched her try to hide three yawns in a row.

Rising, Coulton held his hand out to Ainsley. “Bedtime, wildcat. You need sleep.”

Ainsley accepted his hand, offering no argument. “Thank you so much for dinner,” she said to his parents. “It’s the best food I’ve ever eaten.”

From most people, that compliment would just be words, but Coulton knew Ainsley meant them most sincerely.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Mom said.

“Me too,” Dad piped in. “Because the four of us are going to be eating the leftovers for days.”

They all laughed, then Mom moved in, giving Ainsley another hug. “I’m so glad you’re here with us.”

“So am I,” Ainsley replied. She gave Dad a wave and turned toward Coulton’s room.

Coulton hung back. “Thank you,” he said softly, for just his parents to hear.

“She’s wonderful.”

Coulton smiled. “She really is.”

“Go, be with her, son,” Dad encouraged. “She’s just lost her dad. She shouldn’t be alone. Your mother and I will clean up.”

Best. Parents. Ever.

He nodded his thanks again, then walked to his bedroom.

Ainsley was standing by the bed, looking like a lost puppy.

“Okay?”

She glanced up at him and shrugged. “This morning, I was afraid I’d end up sleeping on the street.”

Coulton scowled. Like he would have ever let that happen. He crossed the room, pulling back the covers, nodding toward her side. “Get in.”

She did, sliding over toward him when he joined her. He loved how easily she came to him, how she sank into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. How she’d called him when she needed him.

Her soft sigh of contentment warmed him all the way to the core, because she sounded at peace.

For the first time ever.

“This year,” he murmured, “I have something pretty amazing to be thankful for.”

Ainsley didn’t lift her head, but he felt her hand slide over his chest to cover his heart.

“Me too,” she whispered.