Until Ashlyn, Page 4

  “The driver can just take me home.”

  “No,” is all he says as he shoves his phone back into his pocket and opens the door. Ignoring his hand that he holds out for me, I get out on my own and head to the trunk where my bag is stowed.

  “Thank you,” I tell the driver as he sets my bag on the ground, doing the same with Dillon’s.

  “Would you like me to help you inside?”

  “No, thank you. We’ve got—”

  “That’s fine, Tim,” Dillon says, and my teeth snap together.

  “It’s really not a problem.” He smiles at me, picking up both pieces of luggage and carrying them toward the house.

  “We could have carried our own bags,” I say, turning to glare at Dillon.

  “Are you itching for a fight?” he asks when the driver is out of earshot, grabbing my hand and preventing me from walking away.

  “No.” I attempt to shake him free but his hold tightens as he tugs, forcing me a step closer to him.

  “Then relax with the attitude.”

  “Don’t tell me to relax.”

  “Baby,” his voice softens and his face dips closer toward mine, “I can tell you’re ready to go to war with me, but I don’t want to fight with you. We’ve had a really good weekend and we’re home now. All I want to do is get some clothes, go to your place, get something to eat, fuck you, and go to sleep with you pressed against me.”

  “We are not having sex,” I grumble, looking over his shoulder. That is one thing I’ve stood firm on. Yes, somehow I’m still married to him, but I refuse to continue having sex with him until I feel more secure in what’s going on between us.

  “Can’t blame me for trying.” He grins, and I let out a deep, frustrated breath, blowing a piece of hair out of my face.

  “You’re not funny.”

  “Stop being pissed.” He tugs my hand, causing me to fall completely into him, and his hand slides around my back so he can hold me close. I try to fight the feeling in my stomach as his mouth lowers toward mine, but as soon as our lips touch, I’m once again lost in everything that is him.

  “Now,” he says softly against my lips, leaning back just an inch, “Tim has been my driver since my first flight to Tennessee. He has a daughter with autism and works days at the airport doing security. The money he makes at that gig doesn’t give him enough to get her the extra help she needs, but driving and tips do. He’s a proud man. He won’t take handouts, so I let him help with my bags if I’ve got them, or give him extra, even if I don’t.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not highborn, baby. I could have carried our bags or driven to the airport and parked myself, but I like helping him out the only way I can.”

  “Oh,” I whisper, something altogether different settling over me, and I feel myself melt into him.

  “Jesus, should I tell you about the charities I donate to?” he asks, searching my face with a smile.

  “Maybe.” I smile back, and he shakes his head.

  “Nut,” he mutters, before kissing me once more and leading me toward the house, where Tim is coming down the stairs without our bags but a smile on his face. “It was good to see you, man. I’ll call and give you my travel schedule in a few days,” Dillon says to him, palming him some money.

  “Sounds good, and have a good evening.” He gives us each a smile then heads toward the limo, where he gets in and takes off down the driveway as Dillon opens the door to his house. Stopping with the door open, I squeak as he scoops me up with an arm behind my back and one under my knees.

  “What are you doing?” I latch on to his neck and he laughs.

  “Carrying you over the threshold.” He pecks my nose then sets me down before stepping back out to bring our bags inside. I try to tell myself his actions are not sweet, but my stomach still flutters.

  “Holy crap.” I spin in a circle, taking everything in. I knew from the outside that the house would be absurd to most, but with shiny marble floors, two curved staircases leading to the second level, a giant crystal chandelier hanging from what must be twenty-foot ceilings, it really is ridiculous. I mean, there is even a dark, antique round table in the middle of the space with an obnoxiously large vase of fake flowers in the center of it.

  “Do you like it?” Dillon asks and I stop my spin to look at him, resting my hands on my hips.

  “Honestly?” I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but I would never live in a place like this. It’s cold and reminds me of a museum in some ways.

  “Honestly.”

  “No.” I shrug then look around again. “I mean, I know some people like these types of houses, don’t get me wrong, but it doesn’t feel like a home. To me, it feels like a hotel lobby. I can’t imagine kicking off my shoes and walking around, and no way can I see kids here. I would be afraid they’d break something or hurt themselves on these shiny floors,” I say, shuffling my foot against the shinny marble.

  “Kids?”

  “Mini people. Kids.” I nod, and his eyes change ever-so-slightly before leaving mine.

  Scanning the room, he slides his hands into the pockets of his jeans and leans back. “It reminded me of my grandparents’ home in Westchester, New York.” He smiles then looks at me once more. “I loved their house growing up. My brother and I used to spend our summers with them. We spent most of our days skating across floors just like these, playing indoor hockey.”

  “Oh.” I look around, trying to picture a younger him doing just that, laughing and having fun, goofing around and being a kid. It seems almost impossible; he’s always kind of uptight and acts like he’s much older than he is.

  “Those were some of my favorite memories, and when I found this house, I could see my kids doing the same thing right here.” He pulls one hand free and sweeps it out to encompass the room.

  “How many kids do you want?” I ask without thinking.

  “Four, if not more.”

  “More than four?” I squeak and he grins, causing my legs to quake.

  “Or however many you want to give me.”

  “Slow down. I haven’t even come to terms with the fact we’re married.”

  “You will.” He shrugs, pulling his hand from his pocket and walking toward me. “Now let me show you around.” He takes my hand, not giving me a choice, then leads me through one room after another, including a library with big, oversized couches, fluffy chairs, and a fireplace making the room feel cozy. A kitchen, with a huge island in the center, tons of counter space, and appliances the likes I’ve never seen in person, including a glass front fridge and a pizza oven. Before we even make it to his room I’m half in love with the house, but when I see his bedroom I’m done. The room is three times the size of mine, with a masculine four-post bed in the center of it covered in crisp white sheets and a simple pattern white and gray duvet, but by far my favorite thing is his closet that is so big it has an island in the middle. By the time the tour is over and he’s packed some clothes, I’m wondering if it wouldn’t be so bad to stay at his place.

  *

  “We are not watching this garbage.”

  Pausing the television, I turn and glare at Dillon, who’s sprawled out next to me with his back to my headboard. His bare chest on display, tight boxers leaving nothing to the imagination, and his feet crossed at the ankle.

  “This is not garbage. This is the truth, and you just need to expand your mind.” I point the remote at him, letting out a huff. My cousin July got me hooked on this show, and ever since I watched the first episode, I’ve become an addict.

  “Aliens, babe, seriously? Ancient Aliens? What the ever-loving fuck is that?”

  “The government has been covering up the secrets of the universe for years. These people,” I point back at the TV, “are letting us in on what’s really been going on for centuries.”

  “That guy there?” He points at the TV, and I look at the screen. Okay, so he looks a little strange with shaggy brown hair and beady eyes, but that doesn’t negate the fact he’s
a genius and I may have a little crush on him.

  “Just watch.”

  “Can we find something else?”

  “No, this is the newest season and I have to catch up. And then I want to watch Naked and Afraid.”

  “Naked and Afraid?” His brows snap together, and I roll my eyes.

  “Have you been living under a rock? It’s only one of the best shows in the world.”

  “I’m seeing we have different tastes in TV,” he mumbles, looking at me like I’m crazy.

  “Whatever. You’ll see,” I mutter back, pressing play on the DVR and turning back to watch my show, all while resting my elbows on my knees which are crossed in front of me.

  “If I’m forced to watch this garbage, you’re going to cuddle with me.” He tags me around the waist then settles me against him. I don’t put up a fight; there is no point. Besides, I like cuddling with him, even though his constant grunting and disbelieving huffs during my shows are annoying.

  “Can I have the remote now?” he asks, three hours later, when Naked and Afraid comes to an end.

  “Yeah.” I sleepily hand it to him then watch, with my cheek to his chest and my arm thrown across his abs, as he flips through channels until he finds Conan O’Brian and drops the remote to his stomach. “And you thought my shows were lame.” I cuddle closer, feeling his chest shake under my cheek as my eyes slide closed and I fall asleep.

  Waking suddenly when the doorbell rings, I roll across the bed and off, landing with my feet to the floor. “What the fuck?” He sits up, looking at the clock next to the bed, and my eyes follow his, seeing it’s just two minutes after seven. I totally forgot about telling my brother, Jax, to bring my cat, Leo, back to me this morning before he went to work, and I know that’s him at the door. And under no circumstances do I want him to see Dillon in my house.

  “Stay here.” I point at him while skirting the bed and slipping on one of my zip up hoodies over my sleep shorts and tank.

  “Stay here. Has she lost her damn mind?” I hear him ask as I open the door, closing it behind me as I slip out. Jogging down the hall to the front door, I open it just an inch and poke my head out.

  “Hey.” I squint one eye closed as the early morning sun almost blinds me.

  “Sorry about the time,” Jax says, holding a hissing Leo out toward me. “I had to sneak him out of the house before Hope got up.”

  “Hey, baby,” I greet my cat, settling him against my chest, kissing the top of his hairless head and hearing him hiss before looking up at Jax once more. “Tell Hope she can come see him anytime she wants.” I smile, using my free hand to grab the edge of the door when it looks like he’s going to try and come in, and his eyes move to my hand.

  “I’m going back to sleep before I need to get up for work. I’ll call you later.”

  “What?” His hand shoots out, preventing me from shutting the door, and his eyes narrow. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Nothing,” I huff. “I’m just jet-lagged. I’ll call you later this afternoon.”

  “Are you okay?”

  Feeling my face soften, I nod. Most of the time, having a brother is annoying, but I would be lost without him. He’s my best friend, and has been since we were little.

  “I’m fine, I swear.” I cross my fingers over my heart.

  “Call me when you got time today.”

  “Will do,” I agree, shutting the door before he walks off, and then flip the lock back into place.

  Holding Leo up in front of my face, I walk down the hall toward my room, murmuring, “I missed my baby so much,” as he hisses. His paw swipes at a piece of my hair hanging near my face. “Are you mad at Mama?” I ask, and he hisses again, making me smile. He’s always mad when I leave him for any length of time. Okay, he’s really always mad, but I love him.

  “So I take it you’re not going to tell your bother about us.” Dillon’s voice startles me and I turn, finding him with his bare shoulder resting against the doorjamb of my room, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “I’m going to tell him.” I shrug, leaving out ‘at some point,’ since he doesn’t need to know that part.

  “Yeah?” he questions softly, and I hate the disappointment I see in his gaze.

  “I’m going to tell everyone we’re dating, and then once they’re used to that idea, I’ll explain we’re actually married.”

  “Married?” Jax’s voice rings through the room behind me and I spin, finding him at the end of the hall, having obviously used his key to get in.

  “Jax—” I caution, and his eyes swing to Dillon.

  “Married? You fucking married my sister, when you’re engaged to someone else?” He lunges forward, and I watch in slow motion as his shoulder hits Dillon in the stomach and he uses his forward momentum to take him across the room, where they crash into my nightstand and lamp, causing the nightstand to bang back into the wall and my lamp to topple over and shatter at their feet.

  “Jax, stop it now!” I scream, dropping Leo to the ground then running toward the two men wrestling in my bedroom.

  “Get out of here, Ash,” Jax snaps as I try to pull him off Dillon, who’s not even attempting to fight back.

  “Screw you, Jax.” I shove him, wishing I were bigger since it does absolutely nothing to move him.

  “If she gets hurt, I’m going to kick your ass,” Dillon barks at Jax, and like his words have spoken to the devil himself, I take a step forward to shove Jax again and my foot slides across a shard of glass.

  “Fuck.” Tears fill my eyes. “You stupid fricking jerk,” I whimper, squeezing my eyes closed, too afraid to move as I freeze in place.

  “Get the fuck off me!” Dillon snarls, and I hear someone stumble back before I’m up in arms that I’ve grown accustomed to and carried across the room.

  “Are you okay, Ash?” Jax asks, and I hold Dillon tighter as pain throbs through my foot.

  “No, she’s not fucking okay,” Dillon snaps, then light filters through my closed eyelids as I’m set on the counter. “Fuck, baby, take some deep breaths for me.” His voice is gentle, and I hear someone else inhale sharply.

  “She’s gonna need stitches,” Jax says, and I open my eyes and feel them widen as I see blood, so much blood, running down my foot and dripping onto the white tiles in my bathroom.

  Swallowing down the nausea I feel come over me, I look up at Dillon as the room starts to spin. “Breathe, baby, you need to breathe for me,” he says calmly, grabbing a towel, wrapping it around my foot, and lifting it onto the counter near my inner thigh. “Keep pressure on it.” He tenderly wraps my hands around it, and I nod once more.

  “Fuck, Ash.” Jax moves toward me, but Dillon puts a hand against his chest, preventing him from getting to me.

  “Stay the fuck back,” he growls, then turns to me and his eyes flash as my head grows dizzy.

  “God dammit.” Dropping his hand from Jax chest, he grabs ahold of my face as his gets close. “Take a breath. A deep breath in, then let it out.” I hadn’t even realized I was holding my breath until that second. Until I pull in a deep breath and feel the oxygen burn through my lungs. “Good girl,” he whispers, touching is forehead to mine briefly, then he grabs another towel and ties it around my foot tightly. “Keep breathing for me. I’ll be right back.” He leans away, waiting for me to agree. Jerking my head up once, I watch him move, using his size to force Jax out of the bathroom.

  “I’m taking her to the hospital,” Jax says, trying to shove his way back toward me. I don’t hear Dillon’s reply. My eyes drop to my foot, wrapped in two of my plush white towels, and I watch red soak through the two layers of fabric.

  “Dillon,” I whisper, “there’s way too much blood.” I start to panic as he comes back, wearing a plain blue T-shirt, shorts, and sneakers that aren’t even tied. Scooping me off the counter, his mouth moves to my ear. “You’ll be okay.”

  “Yeah.” My head drops to his shoulder, too heavy for me to hold up, as we head down the hall toward
the door behind Jax.

  “I’ll drive,” my brother states when we’re outside, and I feel Dillon’s chest expand and a growl of annoyance rumble his chest. I want to tell him to stop being a dick, but I’m too tired to even try to speak. Opening the door to Jax’s truck, I expect him to set me down. Instead, he gets in and settles me on his lap as Jax jogs around and gets behind the wheel.

  “I’m sorry, Ash.”

  Tossing my hand out, I wave him off. I know he feels bad enough already, and I honestly don’t have it in me to tell him he’s an asshole right now.

  “Just drive,” Dillon snaps, and I rub his chest when it rumbles again. His body relaxes, ever so slightly, as his hand moves to the back of my head, holding me there.

  “Fuck you. This is your fault,” Jax retaliates.

  “Me? You came at me like a deranged lunatic.”

  “You’re engaged to another woman!” Jax roars.

  I bury my face against Dillon’s chest and his arms tighten around me. “I’m not fucking engaged. If you gave me a half a fucking second, I would have told you that.”

  “Damn fucking straight, you’re not engaged anymore, since you married my goddamn sister.”

  “Fuck! Just fucking drive and shut the fuck up,” Dillon hisses, and I squeeze my eyes closed, feeling a headache coming on. Feeling the tension in the car growing with each mile, I’m more than thankful when we reach the hospital and Jax drops us at the ambulance bay where Dillon get’s out, still holding me.

  Carrying me through the automatic emergency room doors, I hear them swish closed behind us, then seconds later, a woman gasp.

  “Oh my, come on. Follow me.” I try to lift my head to see where we’re going, but Dillon’s large hand holds down my head, keeping me in place.

  “She needs a doctor,” he barks as a curtain slides open, and I’m gently placed on a hard mattress. Wrapping his hands around my foot, my eyes squeeze closed.

  “The doctor will be right in,” the woman murmurs before leaving.