Текст книги "One Tiny Lie "

Автор книги: K. A. Tucker

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“He stopped hitting me the day we moved my mom into a high-end research and treatment facility. I was fourteen. At the time, I still held out hope that she might get better, that the treatment would reverse or stall the disease. She still laughed at my jokes and sang that song in Spanish . . . She was still in there, somewhere. I had to hope that we could buy enough time until they found a cure.” Ashton’s head dips. “That was the first day my mom asked me who I was. And when he came at me that night . . . I knocked him flat on his back. I was a big kid. I told him to go ahead and hit me as hard as he could. I didn’t care anymore. But he didn’t. He never laid a hand on me again.”

With a resigned sigh, Ashton gazes up at my face as he brushes the never-ending stream of tears from my cheeks with his thumbs. “He found a better way to punish me for breathing. I just didn’t realize exactly what it was at the time. He sold our house and moved us across the city after that, for no reason other than to remove me from the life I knew, forcing me to change schools, to leave my friends. He could have shipped me off to boarding school and washed his hands of me as a responsibility, but he didn’t. Instead, he started dictating who I would speak to, who I would date, what sports I would play.” With a snort, Ashton mutters, “He’s actually the one who demanded I join crew. Kind of ironic, given that rowing is the one thing that I love to do . . . Anyway, one night when I was fifteen, he came home from work unexpectedly to find my unapproved girlfriend and me fu—” Dark eyes flash to my face as my back stiffens. “Sorry . . . messing around. He called her a whore and kicked her out of the house. I snapped. I had him off the ground, ready to pound the shit out of him.” Ashton’s arms tense around my body as he holds me close to him. “That’s when he started using my mother against me.”

I feel my brow furrowing with confusion.

“He threw around numbers—the price of keeping her in her expensive facility, how much it would cost if she survived another ten years. Said that he was beginning to question the point of it. She wasn’t going to get better, so why waste money.” Ashton’s tongue slides over his teeth. “A waste of money. That’s what the love of his life became to him. He hadn’t gone to see her since the day he put her there. His wedding ring was long gone.

“I didn’t want to believe that. I couldn’t just give up on her. She was all I had and he knew it. So he made my choice very simple—I could either live the life he permitted me to live or her last few years would be spent in some shithole, waiting to die. He even found newspaper clippings, examples of horror stories from those kinds of places—neglect, assault . . . That’s the day I realized how much my dad despised me for being born. And I knew he’d follow through with his threat.”

I release the air I’ve been holding. So this is what he’s been hanging over Ashton’s head all this time.

His mother.

“So I gave in. Over the years, I’ve kept quietly accepting his demands.” With a snort, Ashton mutters, “The worst part? I could never really complain. I mean, look at my life! I’m going to Princeton, I have money, a car, a guaranteed job at one of the most prominent law firms in the country. It’s not like he’s torturing me. He’s just . . .” Ashton heaves a sigh. “He just took away my freedom to choose how I live.”

“Well, forcing you to marry someone is something to complain about,” I mutter bitterly.

Ashton’s head bows, his voice turning gruff. “That was the worst day of my life. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the engagement.”

“Look at me,” I demand, lifting Ashton’s face with a finger under his chin. I want so badly to kiss him right now but I can’t cross that line. Not until I know . . . “What happened with Dana? Where do things stand?” Is the wedding still on? Is what we’re doing right now, sitting here together, wrong?

Those gorgeous brown eyes take in my features for a moment before continuing. “Three years ago, I was at the firm’s summer golf tournament, playing with my dad, when a new client introduced himself and his daughter to me. She was there, playing with him. That’s how Dana and I met. I guess Dana’s dad mentioned something about how much he’d love his daughter to be with a guy like me . . .” Ashton’s neck muscles cord. “Dad saw an opportunity. Dana’s father had given the firm only a portion of his businesses while three other law firms represented the rest. Getting ‘in’ with Dana’s dad was a huge financial win for the firm. Worth tens of millions, maybe more. So I was instructed to make Dana love me.” Ashton’s arms shift to pull me tight to his chest as he buries his face against my collarbone, making my pulse begin to race. He keeps talking, though. “She was pretty and blond and really sweet. I never felt anything real for her but I couldn’t complain about having a girlfriend like her. Plus she lived across the country most of the year, going to school, so it’s not like she cramped my lifestyle. Not until you came along.” I resist the urge to lean down. It would be so easy . . . just a little shift and my mouth could be on his.

“Three weeks ago, my dad called me and told me to propose. Dating Dana had secured a larger portion of her dad’s business. He figured marrying her would secure him the rest. I refused. The next day, I got the call from the facility with questions about my mother’s impending transfer to a nursing home in Philadelphia. I was barely off the phone when I got an email from my father with at least a dozen reports of neglect at this place. Even a sexual assault case that got thrown out of court on a technicality. The sick bastard was waiting and ready for it.” Ashton’s chest lifts and falls against me in a resigned sigh. “I had no choice. When he handed me the ring two weeks ago, after the race, I asked Dana to marry me. I told her she was the love of my life. I couldn’t risk her saying no. I was going to convince her to have a long engagement, until I finished law school. I just needed to hold out until my mother died and then I could break it off.” The self-loathing in his voice is unmistakable. He hates himself for it.

I struggle to wrap my head around this entire situation but I can’t. I can’t make sense of it. How could a man hate his own child this much? How could he find satisfaction in dominating another person’s life so completely? Ashton’s dad is sick. Just thinking about how such cruelty could be packaged in a sharp suit and successful career twists my stomach. I don’t care what dark demons lie in Ashton’s father’s past to make him like this. The person that I am will never find an acceptable answer for all that man has done.

I gently push against Ashton’s shoulder, enough to see his face again, and a few tears streaking his cheek. I search his features while his eyes rest on my mouth for a long moment. “When you came to my room that night and . . .” He swallows, his forehead furrowing. “I wanted to tell you. I should have told you before we . . .” Ashton’s expression twists in pain. “I’m so sorry. I knew I’d end up hurting you and I let it happen anyway.”

I won’t let him punish himself for another second about that night. “I don’t regret it, Ashton,” I answer truthfully, giving him a small, reassuring smile. If there is one mistake I will never regret for the rest of my life, it is Ashton Henley. “So, what now?” I hesitate before asking, “What happened with Dana?”

“She screamed and cried a lot. And then she said that if I promised to never let it happen again, she’d forgive me.”

Coils tighten around my stomach. Ashton is still engaged. His father still controls him. And I shouldn’t be here, getting this close to him. Shutting my eyes against the harsh reality, I sigh and whisper, “Okay.”

In a gruff voice, struggling to contain emotion, Ashton whispers, “Look at me, Irish.”

It’s through a haze of tears that I see his tiny smile, and I frown in confusion. Raising a hand to pinch my chin, Ashton pulls me into a soft kiss. It’s closemouthed and it doesn’t last long, but it leaves me breathless all the same. And all the more confused.

Ashton whispers. “I said, ‘No.’”

“But . .. ” I turn to take in his mother’s home. “He’ll transfer her from here to that awful place . . .”

“This is a new place, Irish. I moved my mom here a week ago.” A strange grin transforms Ashton’s face—a mixture of elation and relief and giddiness. It only amplifies his suddenly teary eyes.

“I don’t . . . I don’t get it.” My heart has gone from breaking into pieces to now galloping and skipping over beats with anticipation. I know that he’s hinting at something profound but I don’t know what and I need to, now. “Tell me what’s going on, Ashton.”

His expression turns somber. “I ended things with Dana. I realized that my life wasn’t the only one being ruined in this mess anymore.” A flash of pain crosses his eyes with a memory. “I saw the empty look on your face when you walked down the stairs and out the door that day. It destroyed me. After that, I did the only thing I could do. I went to see Coach. He’s . . . I’ve always envied Reagan for having a dad like that. Well, Coach cracked a bottle of Hennessy and I told him everything.” His words bring me back to my night of confession with Kacey and tequila. It’s kind of funny that we were doing the exact same thing at the exact same time . . . “Coach demanded that I stay with them for a few days until we could sort things out. Sure enough, my phone was ringing off the hook on Monday morning, my dad telling me to fix it with Dana or else. I bought myself some time, telling him that I was trying. Meanwhile, Coach and I started contacting friends of his—lawyers, doctors, Princeton alumni—looking for a way around my dad’s legal control over my mother, a way to get her somewhere safe. It didn’t look like we were going to get anywhere. I was sure I was trapped.” A wry smirk touches his lips. “And then Dr. Stayner showed up on Coach’s doorstep four days later.”

My eyes widen with shock. “What? How?” Four days later . . . That means he literally left me in Miami and flew to New Jersey.

“Apparently he tracked down Coach, figuring he’d find me that way.”

Of course. “I . . .” I heave a sigh, feeling guilty for divulging so much of Ashton’s personal life. “I’m sorry. I told him things about you when I was in Miami. I needed to get it all out. I didn’t ever think he would come here.” Why didn’t I think he would do that?

Ashton shushes me with a finger against my lips. “It’s okay. Really. It’s . . . more than okay. In fact, it has made everything okay.” Ashton’s head shakes as he laughs. “That guy is something else. He has a way of getting information out of you—you know you’re being interrogated but in a friendly way. I’ve never seen Coach defer to anyone like he did with Stayner.”

Rolling my eyes, I can’t help but giggle. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“In four hours—no lie, Irish, four hours—the guy had a full rundown of my past and my situation. He made a bunch of phone calls to colleagues.” Nodding his head toward the house, Ashton explains, “The director of this place is a very good friend of his. He lined up a room.” He smiles sadly. “They don’t think she has too much longer now. Maybe another year or two. Her old place was nicer, but it didn’t make sense for her to be there anymore, with the expensive treatment and therapy. Nothing is going to bring her back. I’ve accepted that. She just needs a place where she’s safe and comfortable. She needs peace now.”

“Stunned” cannot adequately describe how I feel right now. I am bursting with emotion—a volcanic mixture of happiness and sadness and adoration—adoration for that insane doctor of mine who has somehow brought another person that I love back to me. I don’t bother to wipe the fresh set of tears as I frown, still working to make sense of everything.

“But how did you get her moved her? How did your dad—”

Ashton’s burst of laughter cuts my words off. “Oh, Irish. That’s the best part.” He wipes a tear that runs down his nose as his gaze drifts off somewhere, thoughtful for a moment. “It’s shocking what some people are willing to do when they know they can get away with it. It’s even more shocking what they’ll do when they find out that they can’t. My dad’s been getting away with abusing me for sixteen years. And the day after Stayner arrived, him, me, and Coach drove right to my dad’s office to end it. I’ve never been more scared in my life. But the fact that I wasn’t alone in this anymore . . .” Ashton’s voice cracks, and my heart cracks with it.

I pull him against me, squeezing my arms as tight as I can. I want to hear the rest. I need to. But for just a moment, I need to hold Ashton close to me as I come to terms with all of this. I may have lost my parents years ago, but I’ve had memories of a loving childhood to battle against the loss. Ashton has carried nothing but darkness and loathing. And the burden of protecting a woman who doesn’t even remember the little boy she once smothered with love.

“My dad is a powerful man. He’s not used to anyone telling him what to do. So when Stayner strolled into his office—uninvited—and took a seat in my dad’s chair . . .” Ashton chuckles softly. “It was like something out of a movie. Stayner calmly laid out the facts—the abuse, the manipulation, the downright scandalous blackmail. He didn’t dwell on it, he didn’t curse, or yell, or anything. He made sure that my father was fully aware of what he knew, what Coach knew. And then Stayner placed a note with this address on it on his desk and informed my dad that a room had been secured, that we would be transferring my mother here, that he would be maintaining the bills, and that she was not to leave this facility until the day she left her body.”

My mouth has fallen open as I try to picture the scene. “What happened? What’d he say?”

Ashton’s lip curls upward slightly. “He tried throwing some legal shit at Stayner, threats of a lawsuit, of getting his license revoked. Stayner smiled at him. Smiled and painted a very enlightening picture of what would happen if Dana’s dad found out why his daughter’s heart is shattered, how it would likely be much worse than simply losing him as a powerful client. That, added to the fact that I still had those emails about the nursing home—proof of his intentional malice toward his wife—well, it would be enough to damage that pristine image he’s worked so hard to uphold. Maybe enough to keep a good lawyer friend of Stayner’s busy for a few years. A friend with a penchant for taking on tough pro bono cases that he’s notorious for winning. Stayner dropped a name and my dad’s face went white. I guess there are more intimidating lawyers in New York than David Henley.”

He pauses. “We left after that. I turned my back on my father and walked out. I haven’t seen him since.”

“So . . .” I point to the house in amazement. “He did what Stayner told him to do? Just like that?”

A curious frown touches Ashton’s face. “Not exactly . . . The transfer did happen. They picked my mom up two days later and moved her in here. And then four days ago, a courier dropped off a bunch of paperwork with a letter of intent. My father is signing over power of attorney to me. I will have control of my mother’s well-being and her estate. It has all of her financial records. Remember, I told you she was a model, right?”

I nod, and he continues. “She had a lot of her own money. When she found out she was sick, she made sure it was set up to cover her care. She made sure there was money to cover everything since the beginning. It had never even come out of his pocket.”

“So, he’s just . . . letting you go?”

With a slow nod, Ashton says, “The one condition is that I sign a nondisclosure agreement about my . . . relationship with him. Our history, about Dana. Everything. I sign that and he guarantees that I will never hear from or see him again.”

The look on my face must ask the question because he confirms, “I’m going to sign it. I don’t care. It’s in the past. All I care about is what’s sitting in front of me right now.” Ashton’s hand slides down to my thigh to pull me closer against him, his voice raw with emotion. “I can’t ever undo all of the mistakes that I made with you, all the lies I told, all the ways that I hurt you. But . . . can we please just”—he grits his jaw—“somehow forget all of that and start over?”

This is really happening. I’m actually here, sitting with Ashton—the one thing I know that I want—and it may finally be right.

Almost.

“No,” slips from my mouth.

I see Ashton flinch against the single word as he fights against the tears welling in his eyes. “I’ll do anything, Irish. Anything.”

My fingers slip to his wrist, to that awful thing that I know is still there.

I don’t even have to say a word and he knows, sliding the sleeve of his coat up to uncover the glaring reminder of his abuse. He stares at it for a long moment. “My dad threw this belt out after that night. Trying to get rid of the bloody evidence, I guess,” he says softly. “But I found it in the trash and hid it in my room for years. The day I covered my scars with my tattoos was the same day I had this cuff made from a piece of the belt. My constant reminder that my mother needed me to hang on.” Glancing up at a window on the third floor—his mother’s, no doubt—he smiles wistfully. My heart melts as I watch his fingers deftly unsnap the band. Sliding me off his lap to stand, he takes a few steps away and then, with what appears to be all the strength in his body, he throws the last piece of his father’s control over him into the mass of trees.

He turns his back on it, a pleading look in those gorgeous brown eyes of his, mixed with that heat that buckles my knees.

Taking a step into him, I press my hand against his racing heart and close my eyes, memorizing the feel of this moment.

The moment I make a choice for me and only me.

A choice that is right because it is right for me.

The smile escapes me before I can give him my last stipulation . . .

Ashton has never been a patient guy. I guess he sees the smile and takes it as my acceptance. His mouth instantly crashes into mine in an all-consuming kiss that weakens my knees and explodes my heart.

I manage to break free from his mouth. “Wait! Two more things.”

He’s breathing heavily, his brow furrowed as he gazes down at my face with confusion. “What else is there? You want my clothes too?” With an arched brow, he adds, “I’ll gladly give them to you when we get somewhere a little bit warmer, Irish. In fact, I insist.”

Shaking my head, I whisper, “I want you to get help. You need to talk to someone about all of this. Deal with it.”

Ashton smirks. “Don’t worry, I already have Stayner all over my ass. I have a feeling I’ll be taking up your ten a.m. slot on Saturdays.”

Relief pours out of me in an exhale. If there’s anyone I trust with Ashton’s well-being, it’s Dr. Stayner. “Good.”

With a small peck on my lips, he murmurs, “And that other thing?”

I swallow. “You said you wanted to forget everything. But . . . I don’t want you to ever forget a thing that happened between us. Ever.”

The most gentle of smiles passes over Ashton’s face. “Irish, if there’s one thing I’ve never been able to forget, it’s a single second with you.”

EPILOGUE

“You know, I haven’t had cheesecake in almost year,” I murmur, dragging my fork along my plate as I watch the June sun setting over Miami Beach from the comfort of my lounge chair. “I don’t think I like it anymore.”

“I’ll eat it, then,” Kacey mutters, one step from licking her plate clean. “Or Storm will. I swear she puts back fifty thousand calories a day feeding that hog of a child.” As if baby Emily heard the magic word from her bouncy chair in the kitchen, the hungry wails begin. Again. Emily was born in early January, immediately affixing herself to Storm’s nipples and fighting to stay ever since. Things have not been easy for Storm, but she’s handling it with all the patience and love that you could ever expect from her.

With me back home, it’s given her a bit of respite. Emily is even taking a bottle from me now. Storm calls me her lucky charm.

I stayed to finish the year at Princeton after all, even managing to pull my overall average up to a solid B. It’s ironic that my English lit final mark ended up being one of my strongest of that first semester, given it was also the most difficult course for me.

Ashton was definitely a motivating factor in my choice to stay. Once all the confusion, the pressure, and the lies were gone, I was left with nothing but choices. Small, large, easy, hard—all of them mine to make. For me.

I started with the easy ones. Like choosing to be where I could see Ashton whenever I wanted. That was a no-brainer. He had less than a year to go for a Princeton degree and he decided that he wanted to see it through, regardless of his reason for being there in the first place. Plus he was committed to his role as crew captain through the spring season.

Eventually Connor, Ashton, and I reconciled. It didn’t take long for Connor to see that I wasn’t just another one-night stand for his best friend. Connor started dating the blond girl—Julia—who’d approached him that night at the eating club. We even went on a double date. It was weird, but by the end of the night, I think it helped our friendship. By the looks I catch Connor giving me every now and then, I know his feelings for me haven’t completely disappeared. I hope with time, he’ll see that we weren’t right for each other.

Ashton moved back into the house at the beginning of the spring semester. I stayed over a lot. That was also weird at first, but Ashton quickly made me forget about my nerves . . . and anything else that didn’t involve him.

One of the harder decisions I had to make was whether or not to stay at Princeton beyond that first year. I’d applied for a transfer to Miami and, not surprisingly, it was accepted. There was nothing keeping me in New Jersey anymore, except Ashton. He would be done that year but his mother was still in New Jersey, and Reagan’s dad had offered him a position as assistant coach while he figured things out. I toiled over my own decision for weeks, not sure what would make me happiest.

Then one night, as I was lying in bed and outlining his Celtic symbol with my fingertip, Ashton told me he was following me to Miami if I chose to go. He had even started looking into hospices down there with Stayner’s help. Robert confirmed that the assistant coaching job would always be there for him.

That suddenly made my hard decision really easy. Which made me know that it was the right one.

I wanted to go home.

And I wanted to bring Ashton with me.

The sliding door opens behind us and two strong hands clamp over my shoulders. “You never told me it was so damn hot in Miami,” my gorgeous man grumbles, leaning down to steal the mouthful of cake off my fork, following it with a kiss on my lips. I squeal as drops of sweat land on my face.

My eyes drift over the sheen coating his bare chest. Ashton has taken to evening jogs without a shirt since moving down here, and it’s doing very bad things to my hormones on a nightly basis.

“The kid’ll get used to it,” I hear Trent mutter from behind as he steps out of the house, also sweaty and shirtless, with a towel around his neck. There’s about an eight-year difference between Ashton and Trent but their maturity levels seem to be equal, because they get along perfectly. I’m not sure yet what that says about either of them.

“What is this—the sweaty guy convention?” With a blanket over her shoulder to discreetly hide the baby latched to her boob, Storm joins us, followed closely by a third shirtless, sweaty man—Ben. And just like that, the deck has come alive with people.

“You’re too fast, Princeton,” the rugged blond mutters, high-fiving Ashton.

I smile at the nickname. Everyone has taken an instant liking to Ashton. Including the small group of women passing by on the beach. It’s the same group every night. They’ve discovered that if they swing past our house at this time in the evening, they’re likely to find fit, half-naked men lingering out on the back deck. That Kacey, Storm, and I are usually sitting here too is a minor inconvenience . . .

“Hello!” Kacey waves dramatically at them as she does every night, clearly enjoying the fact that her man is being drooled over. She points at Trent. “He’s five hundred for two hours!” Swinging her hand Ashton’s way, she adds, “Seven-fifty for him because he’s young. You should hear how he makes my sister scream!”

“Kacey!” I snap, but it’s too late. Everyone’s laughing and my cheeks are burning. Ashton bends down to plant a kiss on my neck, as if that will distract me from my mortification. As much as I’ve come out of my sexually repressed shell, so to speak, I still like to keep what’s private . . . private. Ashton respects that and he doesn’t tease me as much as they do. But he can’t resist when the rest of them get into it. They seem to have so much more material on me now, thanks to my welcome-home party, complete with too many Jell-O shots and thin walls.

“What about me? Am I not worth some coin, Madame Kacey?” Ben’s hands are held out in question, a mock look of insult on his attractive features.

“I’ll pay them five hundred to get you out of my hair for one night,” Kacey moans. But she follows it immediately with a wink.

“I can take a hint. I’m heading over to Penny’s for a beer, anyway. Hey, Princeton, you sure you don’t want me to hook you up with a job? Good money, lots of—”

“No, thank you!” I answer before Ashton can. There’s no way in hell my beautiful Mediterranean underwear model is working in a strip club. I don’t have my sister’s self-confidence.

Ashton shrugs and then, with a lascivious smile in my direction, says, “I’m good here. I’ve got my hands full with this one.”

“I think she might be worse than her sister,” Trent adds wryly.

Another round of laughter heats my cheeks. “How about you go fill your hands with a long shower, by yourself?” I retort, slapping his hard stomach for emphasis. And then I realize what I’ve implied and I’m burying my face in my hands as they all burst out in laughter. Again.

Truth be told, Ashton is in no rush to find a job. We didn’t end up moving his mother to Miami after all. She died peacefully in late April, just before exams. I was with Ashton the morning that he got the call. I held him close to me as he cried quietly—tears of both sadness and relief, I think.

There’s enough money left to buy Ashton some time while he figures things out. He’s not rich by any means but it’s enough for the short term. Storm insisted that he move in with us, so he’s not burdened with rent. He’s signed up for flight lessons already, and is deciding for the first time what he wants to do with his life. I think he’s savoring every second of the process.

Looking back over the past year, I can’t believe how Ashton and I came from such different family situations—mine a place of love, his a place of pain—and yet we ended up in exactly the same spot at exactly the same time: learning how to make our own choices.

The only thing both of us seem to agree on is that we want each other there every step of the way.

I know, in my gut, that med school is not the right path for me, regardless of my academic capability. I kept in touch with the children’s hospital until I knew that Eric and Derek had finished their chemo and were released. And then I laid that part of my life to rest. I’m giving serious consideration to social work. While it won’t be easy—some of those kids face situations worse than what Ashton faced—I know that I want to help children in a meaningful way. So Dr. Stayner has lined up some volunteer work at a foster care center to see if it’s something my fragile nature can handle. And if it’s not? Well . . .

Life’s all about trial and error.

Dr. Stayner and I talk frequently. Dr. Stayner and Ashton talk even more frequently. Stayner jokes that he’s our household shrink. I’ve told him he should just move in with us. I’m still searching for the right way to express the adoration that I feel for the man and all that he has done for us. All that he continues to do for us.

Giving him my firstborn child is starting to sound like a reasonable option.

“When are your friends coming down, Livie?” Storm asks as she adjusts her top. Emily’s chubby cheeks finally make an appearance from behind the flannel curtain, with a content burp.

“Tomorrow afternoon.” The guys and Reagan are flying in for a few days.

They were shocked when they found out that Ashton’s mom had been alive all this time, but they simply stood by their friend that day in late April and then celebrated her life with him at Tiger Inn until the wee hours of the morning. While Ashton can never disclose all of the details because of his agreement with his father, I think the guys have come to realize that their captain’s life was far from the ideal exterior.

And Reagan? Well, aside from the three-week-long pout I had to deal with when I told her I wasn’t coming back in the fall, Reagan has been the best roommate and friend I could ever ask for. She’s still madly in love with Grant. Maybe enough to tame her wild streak.

“All right! So we’re getting lit tomorrow night,” Ben exclaims, clapping his hands together. He bends down to kiss Emily on her cheek.

“You stink!” Storm pushes him away with a giggle and a crinkled nose.

“On that note . . .” Ben lays a sloppy kiss on Storm’s forehead and then heads into the house with a holler of, “Goodbye!”

Trent stretches his long, muscular arms over his head. “The Grill tonight?”

“Yes! I need a night out!” Storm exclaims, a sudden frenzied look in her eyes. Like she’s a caged animal. She kind of is. “Dan’s going to be home in an hour and then me and these milk bags are ditching this joint. Lemme go empty them.” She’s gone with Emily in a split second to pump.