Page 77 of Let Me Love You

“You’re allowed to be scared,” I concede. “But your fear shouldn’t hold you back from fighting for what you want. You’re so used to taking hits to the chin you’ve forgotten how to defend yourself, let alone fight back.”

A beat of silence passes between us. Her wide eyes are glued to the glass in front of her. “Ouch.”

“Hey, you’re the one who came in here and asked for my advice,” I remind her.

“Didn’t know you’d be so blunt,” she mutters. “And what does the paternity test have to do with the paparazzi and puck bunny drama?”

“Everything,” I argue. “They all stem from the same place. Whether or not you recognize it, I think you’re feeling insecure in your relationship with Colt, and instead of fighting for him, you’re rolling over and playing the martyr. You’re letting the paparazzi and the random girls push you around, leaving Colt to not only fend for himself but also to try to protect you. It isn’t fair to him. Yes, you deserve to have a man who stands up for you, and we both know Colt does it all the time. But he also needs you to stand up for yourself.”

“I’m trying.”

“Good. Because Colt’s profession requires him to stand out, and he’s being torn apart trying to accommodate you and make you feel comfortable while chasing his own dreams. But it isn’t sustainable. Don’t get me wrong. We both know he’d give everything up for you in a heartbeat, but I also think we both know you’d feel terrible if he ever felt like he needed to make that choice.”

“I would never ask him to choose,” she whispers.

“You wouldn’t have to ask. He knows you. And if he knows you’re miserable, he’ll do anything in his power to fix it to make you happy.”

With a sigh, she takes a sip of her drink and looks up at me again, determination swirling in her big green eyes. “So what do I do?”

“Stop being the martyr. Stop letting people push you around. Don’t be afraid to stand up for yourself or for Colt, even when it makes you uncomfortable. Don’t shy away from the spotlight. Bask in it. Colt’s happy to have you by his side, so claim the spot instead of trying to blend in…including when it comes to Jaxon. Colt’s gonna need your help raising him. So be there. Be his other half, the way he’s always been yours.”

She blinks, attempting to process the word vomit I gifted her with as she takes another sip from her glass and chews on the straw. But I don’t backpedal. I don’t apologize for being too harsh or for telling her how it is. I simply wait. And honestly, part of me hopes she does lose her temper. Hopes she yells at me or tells me I’m being unfair. Something. Because, so help me, she needs to snap out of this funk, or she might wind up losing the best thing to ever happen to her.

After a solid minute, her quiet voice breaks the silence. “Wow. Seems like firm Mia has quite the perspective on things.”

“She’s kind of a badass,” I agree dryly.

With a laugh, Ash nods. “She totally is. Thanks, Mia.”

“You’re welcome,” I reply. “Do you want a drink?” I motion to her barely-touched Diet Coke. “A stiff one?”

She shakes her head and pulls her cell out of her back pocket. “Actually, no. I think I’m gonna give Colt a call.”

“Great idea,” I agree.

Resting her elbows on the countertop, she types something into her phone and brings it to her ear.

“Hey,” she says into her cell. Her brows wrinkle. “Oh.”Pause.“Yeah, sure.”Pause.“Uh-huh.”Pause.“Love you too. Bye.”

She disconnects the call as her eyes fill with tears.

“Whoa, what’s wrong?” I ask.

“Colt couldn’t talk. He’s, uh, he’s on the phone with Eleanor.” She sets her phone on the bartop and sucks her cheeks between her teeth, shaking her head. “They’re making plans to go out for coffee.” With a watery smile, she meets my gaze and taps the edge of her glass. “I think I’m gonna need that stiff drink after all.”

“Oh, Ash.” My heart breaks even more as I add a splash of whiskey to Ashlyn’s drink, making it a double.

I have a feeling she’s gonna need it.

28

ASHLYN

Ihaven’t even had a chance to take my first sip of Jack and Coke when my phone buzzes, Colt’s name flashing across the screen.

“Is it him?” Mia asks, wiping out the freshly cleaned glasses with a white towel and staring at me like I might break at any second. Then again, I don’t blame her.

I feel like I’m gonna be sick.