Page 11 of Leave Me Broken
“How old is Parker?”
“Sixteen,” he says. “He turns seventeen in a few months.”
So, he really is my age. We will be seventeen at the same time for like, half a year. I wonder if that bothers Ash at all? I’m guessing not since his hands are on my thighs and he’s tracing small circles with his thumbs.
“You let it affect you and not in a good way. You sucked today, Jailbird.” There’s a teasing in his voice but he’s not wrong.
“I know,” I whisper, embarrassed that he noticed. No matter the weirdness between us or how I might feel about him personally. I can’t deny Ash Pearson knows his volleyball, and I crave his approval.
I grab the rag from the bowl to clean up since he stopped at my neck, but he grabs it from me and drags the lukewarm rag over my chest where the blood seeped through my shirt. The contrast of the wet and the cool office air causes my skin to prick with goosebumps and my nipples to harden, peaking through my two black sports bras.
I wonder if he notices until his large hand cups my breast over my bra and his dark gray eyes zero in on it. I flatten my hands behind me and arch into his touch. He crowds me, prodding at every exposed part of my body.
“I do not care about protecting her more than you. By the way.”
I wish I could roll my eyes harder. “Yes, you do. You let her say vile things to me but the moment I open my mouth, you cut me off, I don’t know why. I know you are not doing this with her.” I hope. “Is it because her dad’s the mayor?”
He scoffs against my throat like that’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever said but it’s not. It would make sense he kisses her ass because of that. Everyone does. “It’s because what you say is accurate. Alyssa says anything that she thinks will hurt someone and it’s usually far from the truth. She digs but her words never affect you because you know they are not true. Your words are. She self-projects, where you judge a situation by how it is. Alyssa calling you a whore does not make any sense when I am the only man that has, and will be between your legs.”
I take a second to think about that while he pushes me onto my back and positions himself between my legs, kissing from my collarbone up to my ear and across to the other side, just barely brushing over my lips.
I guess he’s right. She says the craziest things and hardly do they ever actually bother me. I wouldn’t tell lies to hurt someone, but I will tell them the truth, even if it sucks.
My center throbs with his erection between my legs. “Tell me I’m the only one, Ash.”
“You and me, babygirl. Always you and me.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and open my eyes to find him staring down at me. “One day, you will understand how I feel for you. We will wake up in ten years’ time and all of this will mean nothing because it will be you I wake to and vice versa.”
I hate and love when he says things like that. The little girl inside cheers at the thought of someone planning to be in my life for so long, but the older part of me, the part burned too many times, has a hard time believing because they are just words. You can say a lot of things. So I pull his mouth to mine and relish in the low moan we both let out when our lips touch.
His tongue slips between my lips, I sigh at the hardness of his piercing. I love it. I love it even more when it’s pressing into my—
“We need to talk, Jailbird.” But he doesn’t pull away. He feels amazing being so close after going without, but it’s Ash’s smell that makes me lift my hips and thrust my pussy against his erection. He always smells so good but it’s right after practice that it’s the most intoxicating. When he has a hint of sweat and all man.
“Later,” I pant, pulling him closer until I can feel nothing but him.
“Baby,” he coo’s, halting our kiss and leaving me frustrated. “I can’t fully enjoy this unless I know you’ve forgiven me. I want to kiss, touch, and fuck you.” Goosebumps. “More than fucking anything, but I know you’re still not with me one hundred percent.”
I drop my arms and he pulls me back to a seated position. Falling into the chair in front of me, he moves closer to keep his arms wrapped around my waist.
“I’m still mad at you,” I admit softly.
He holds my gaze, not wavering in the slightest. “I know.”
“I don’t know if I can get over it.”
He swallows but says nothing.
“I never told you about my dad. My bio dad—not Fred,” I grit between my teeth. Shaking the thought of him away, I lower my eyes and so does he. To the scar on my stomach, he teases it gently with his thumb. “He left when I was four. Everyone says I shouldn’t remember, but I do. I remember everything from that day,” I admit.
I get different feelings talking about each piece of shit dad in my life. With Fred, it’s anger, nothing but pure hatred. With my bio dad, Hunter, it’s a mix of anger, sadness, and a deeper feeling of abandonment. I pick at my finger. “It was a normal day; I woke up and Mom was just getting home from work because she worked nights at the time. The arguments started right away, I don’t remember about what, but over the years after he left, I heard he was lazy, never cleaned, an alcoholic, addicted to gambling—whether any of that is true, I don’t know, but I assume the argument from that day was one of those things.
“Most of the time their arguments were loud whispering to not wake me or Jason up but I was always up. My mom getting home was always exciting to me because sometimes she would bring me a snack, or a little toy she would get at the gas station on the way home. I sat on the steps, just like every morning, but when my dad saw me and tried to stop the argument, my mom didn’t stop. She kept going even knowing I was awake, watching, and hearing everything, her whispers got louder. Jason eventually came down, sat next to me, and tried to cover my ears but it didn’t work. I heard my mom tell him to get out.”
Ash pulls my hands apart and sucks on my bleeding thumb. When he’s done, I thread my hands into his hair. It’s longer now, fluffy, curly, and hangs over his forehead. Not long like Luca or even . . . Parker. But longer than the short boyish style he started the season with.
“So”—I shrug—“he did. I stayed with him while he packed since my mom and Jason had disappeared somewhere else in the house. No one seemed to care that he was going away besides me. Jason was always weird with Hunter and was never attached like I was, not that I remember anyway. He finished packing and when I tried, he pulled me into the kitchen, knelt in front of me, and explained that only he was going away. He had never gone away without me before, so it didn’t make sense. Then he stood, grabbed the few bags he had, and turned for the door without a look back.