Here’s the Thing (Seddledowne #4)

Chapter 10 – Ashton

ten

ASHTON

You are my heart, my life, my one and only thought.

— ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

“ W hat is wrong with you?” Anna said, as angry as she’d ever been with me. I pinched the phone between my ear and my shoulder.

“You need to hold still,” the nurse barked as she stabbed my knuckle with a suture. They’d given me a local in my hand but it was still jarring to feel the tug under my skin.

“I’m trying,” I said.

“Where are you?” Anna asked.

“The E.R.”

“Why are you at the E.R.?”

“My hand is broken.”

“What happened? ”

“Mr. Dupree.” The woman huffed. “If you’d put your phone down, this would go a lot faster.”

But I was positive if I hung up before Anna had said everything she called to say, she’d drive down from Blacksburg and throttle me. “Sorry. No can do.” Then to Anna, I said, “Hold on.”

Then I held perfectly still for the nurse.

“There. That should do it.” She patted my hand. “Luckily, you shouldn’t need surgery. Here’s your appointment to get it cast one week from today.” She handed me a card. “You need to rest it. Keep it elevated, do you hear me?” She raised a brow in warning.

“Yes ma’am.”

I hopped off the table and walked out into the hall. A cop who was sitting in a chair eating a cafeteria burrito pointed me toward the exit.

“Okay.” I held the phone to my ear with my good hand. “You can finish blessing me out now.”

“Do you have any idea how much courage it took for Tally to tell you that?” Anna said. “I promised her you would be kind and help her.”

“You shouldn’t make promises for other people.”

She cussed me under her breath.

“Babe.” I heard Blue trying to calm her in the background. “I’m sure if Ashton won’t help her, he has a good reason.”

I clicked my tongue. “Bingo. You should listen to your husband.”

She cussed me again. “Fine. Tell me the real reason you won’t help her?”

“I told you. I’m her professor.”

“Not good enough. She already told you she won’t tell anyone. And you know she’s good for the secret.”

“I’m not okay with the secret.” The sliding doors rolled open and I walked out into the warm spring air. The sun felt good on my skin. I paused on the sidewalk and closed my eyes, trying to feel the same calm I’d felt before Tally had walked into my office. Nope. My stomach was knotted so tight it felt like a fist of ice gripping my insides.

“You’re punishing her,” Anna said. “Because of the whole kiss thing.”

“No, Anna.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, waited for an ambulance to drive past, and stepped into the parking lot. “Does that even sound like me?”

There was a long pause. “No,” she said quieter. “But Ashton? She is beside herself. She promised her co-author she’d have this done tonight.”

“Then you can help her write it,” I snapped. My mental state was at capacity. I couldn’t deal with this.

Suddenly, the other end of the phone went quiet.

She hung up on me? I probably deserved it. I’d call and apologize. Later. I needed a few minutes.

But then my phone rang again. This time it was Brooklyn. I sent it to voicemail. She hung up without leaving a message and called right back. I did not want to talk to her. Because if Anna, who was as kind as they come, was mad enough to crucify me, I could only imagine what Bust Your Balls Brooklyn would be like.

After seven tries, she switched to messaging. I turned my phone off until I got home.

When I walked into my apartment, I turned it on and a string of messages greeted me.

Brooklyn: Okay, d-bag, I don’t know what you said to my friend but she’s been curled up on her bed, crying inconsolably for the past two hours.

Brooklyn: We all know you’re in love with her, so why won’t you help her write the scene?

Brooklyn: You’re being an A-hole because you’re mad about the kiss.

Brooklyn: If you don’t come make this right, I’m telling her you’re in love with her.

Brooklyn: That you’ve been in love with her since DAY ONE.

“Do your worst,” I muttered. It couldn’t possibly make the situation any more jacked up.

Brooklyn: Fine. I won’t do that. But only because it would freak her out. But you need to fix this.

That was the thing though. I couldn’t fix this. Not the way Tally wanted. There was no good outcome here. Not that I had the power to give her anyway.

When I booted up my computer and surfed to Incognito, there was a message waiting.

Austentacious119: Hey, I’m sorry I don’t have the scene done. I promise I’m not usually this flighty. I thought my friend could help me write the scene but he wasn’t available. Not sure what to do.

I stared at the message, conflicted. I shouldn’t talk to her on this site. It was inappropriate behavior for a professor. But it would be downright mean to leave her hanging. With my left hand, I typed.

Leggolas1012: I’ve got some personal stuff going on. I think maybe we need to put the book on hold for a bit. I need to head out of town. I’ll let you know when I’m back.

Then I wrote a notice on our page stating that there were extenuating circumstances and this week’s chapter wouldn’t be coming out quite yet. I shut the computer down.

Leggolas1012 wasn’t getting on Incognito again until Ashton figured out what to do. Then I responded to Brooklyn.

Me: How is she?

Brooklyn: Not good. She won’t come out of her room. She won’t eat dinner.

It wasn’t going to make it better but I sent Tally a text anyway.

Me: Tally, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. If I could help, I would. I hope you know that.

She didn’t respond. And she didn’t come to Fiction Thesis Writing class two days later. Finally, when she’d missed her third class and Ashley had asked me if I knew where Tally was, I knew what I had to do.

Like a dead man walking, I knocked on her apartment door. Brooklyn was glaring before she got it all the way open. Clearly, she’d spied me through the peephole.

“What do you want?”

“Is she here?” Tally’s car was in its parking spot.

“That depends.” Brooklyn cocked her head, frowning. “Are you going to fix what you did?”

“I’m going to try.” It was all the promise I could make.

Her frown deepened. “Why didn’t you come over here in the first place? She’s been in her room for a week. She won’t let me open the curtains. She’s wasting away,” she hissed. “Between you and this Leggs jerk who won’t respond to her messages, I’m ready to punch some men in the face.” She muttered something I couldn’t understand. “All y’all make me miss Madden. Maybe he was vanilla but at least he didn’t make her cry.”

I sighed. “Can I come in please?”

She opened the door with a hand flourish. “Right this way.”

Then she stormed into the kitchen, shoved a pair of AirPods in her ears, and jammed her hands into a sink full of dishwater. I waited for her to call for Tally to come out to the living room.

She looked over at me and pulled out one AirPod. “What are you waiting for? Do you need me to hold your hand?” She tipped her head toward the hallway. “ Go. ”

So I did.

When I got to Tally’s door I knocked lightly. No answer. I knocked louder.

“Go away,” she mumbled.

I shouldn’t have even thought about going into her room. It was completely inappropriate, but I was breaking all the rules anyway.

I opened the door, walked in, and closed it shut behind me. Brooklyn hadn’t lied. It was dark in here. Tally’s blackout curtain would’ve fooled me into believing the sun had set. But her ceiling was lit up from a projector on her dresser putting on a decent display of the Northern Lights. The air in the room smelled stale. I could barely make out Tally’s long, thin form on the bed. Her legs were twisted around a blanket and her arms wrapped around a body pillow. She was in her pajamas. But her eyes were open. At the sight of me, they widened, but she made no move to get up, and she didn’t say hello.

I knelt beside the bed and propped my elbows on her mattress so we were at eye level. “Hey,” I said quietly.

“Hi,” she whispered. “What are you doing in my room, Professor Dupree?”

I winced at her words. It was just one sentence but it said so many things. I’d drawn a line, forced her to stay on the other side, and now I was stepping over. Something I wouldn’t allow her to do.

“I came to tell you that I’m sorry.”

She chewed her bottom lip but said nothing.

So I continued. “And that I think you should come to class before you kill your grade.”

Her eyes were solemn but expectant. Waiting for more. But then they dropped to my cast. She reached out and ran her fingertips over it. “You broke your hand.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. I did.” I leaned forward and wrapped my good hand around the one she’d touched my cast with. I lifted our hands and pressed my palm to hers, finger to finger—the same way I did with my dad when I was little, hoping mine were finally as big as his. My hand swallowed hers. I slid my fingers between hers, creating a bridge between us.

This was it. As soon as I said my next words, nothing would ever be the same again.

I dropped my forehead to our joined hands and began. “First glance, last thought. You’re etched in my soul.” I tested the words, barely above a whisper. “Your dreams, your smile—you make me whole.”

Her breath hitched. “What?” she uttered, her voice barely a tiptoe.

I held her gaze so she’d know I wasn’t ashamed. “Nine years I've loved you, silent and deep. Your dark eyes haunt me, awake and asleep.”

“No. There’s no way,” she said louder. Her eyes were full of hope, but at any second she’d realize everything this meant.

There it was.

Horror was the first emotion, then fear.

I had to get this in before she shut me down. “You carry your burdens, I long to share.”

She scooted away, pressing herself against the wall, searching my face as if she were hoping for some sign that I was lying.

“To whisper ‘I'm here’ and show that I care.”

“No. It’s not true.” She slapped a hand over her mouth.

It was time to go for broke.

“It is, Tally. I’m Leggs and you’re…The Girl.”

Her eyes widened more, aghast. She shrank against the wall. Then she rolled over, facedown in her pillow, her back to me. “No. No, no, no, no.”

I slid onto the bed, supine next to her, and wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her back tight against my chest. “One word from your lips could end all this pain,” I breathed. “And turn nine years of drought to life-giving rain.”

She shuddered against my chest and the sobs ripped through her so hard it vibrated through my cast and into my broken hand.

“I love you,” I confessed. “I always have. Since the moment we argued about Jane Eyre at my parent’s dinner table.”

“No,” she cried. “You can’t. You can’t.”

“I do. It’s just a fact, the same way the sun rises every morning. It’s like God made my heart for one purpose and one purpose only. To love Tallulah Hawkins.” I dropped my forehead to her shoulder, praying she’d accept it.

She groaned and sobbed some more, like me loving her was the worst thing that could possibly happen. I tried not to take it personally. This was probably a terrifying conversation for her to have.

“I’m so sorry for what he did to you,” I whispered.

“No.” Her head shook vehemently. “You can’t know that about me. You’re not supposed to know. No one is supposed to know.”

“But I do. And it hasn’t changed the way I feel about you. Hasn’t budged me at all. Nothing does and nothing ever will.”

She shoved my arm off and crawled to the end of the bed, where she sat up and faced me. “You can’t. You don’t,” she said, shoulders back and head held high, feigning confidence. In truth, she looked terror-stricken. “You can’t tell Anna or Brooklyn or anyone. Please .”

I raised up on my elbows but said nothing.

“Do you hear me?” her voice quavered. “You’re going to walk out that door.” She thrust her arm out to make it clear she meant her bedroom and not the front door. As in, ‘don’t you dare say a word to Brooklyn when you pass by.’ “And we’re never going to speak of any of this ever again. Austen and Leggs are over.” A plump tear slid down her cheek. “This,” she pointed between us, “is nothing .” She shook her head, wiping her nose on her blanket. “You don’t love me. I wasn’t raped. And you’re going to pretend we never had this conversation.” Her chest heaved. “Say it,” she whisper-shouted.

I stared at her for a long moment. “I won’t tell anyone,” I said. “But you should. Your friends love you. They’d want to know.”

She wiped a tear from her cheek. “You have no idea what you’re saying. Trust me on that. Telling my friends would be the worst thing I could do.” Her jaw clamped tight like that was all she was going to say about it.

I pushed forward, my eyes drilling into hers. “Things happen for a reason. Of the twenty-seven million writers on Incognito, the algorithm matched us . Maybe the universe knew what it was doing. Maybe it knew you’d carried this secret alone long enough. Think about that.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You want to know what I know about the universe?” Her jaw pulsed. “That it sucks. The universe is a drunk driver, careening through the cosmos, leaving wrecked lives in its wake. And now you think it's suddenly sobered up and decided to play Fairy Godmother?” She exhaled a bitter laugh. “No. Sorry. I don’t believe that. I’ve cried more tears this week than I have in nine years. That’s what the universe does. It breaks hearts. It doesn’t mend them.” She hugged her knees to her chest. “You don’t love me. You need to go.” Her gaze was trained on the opposite wall like she didn’t want to look at me for another second. “ Please .”

I stood and walked to the door, hands shaking, feeling like I was tumbling head over foot into a bottomless abyss. But I needed to know for sure. “Are you saying that you don’t love me? Because that kiss…felt like love. It felt like intense love.”

“You can’t love me,” she said again, not answering my question. Then she looked at the opposite wall and whimpered. “Please, go.”

“ Tally. ”

She shook her head and crumpled in on herself, crying even harder.

I didn’t want to go. It was the last thing I wanted. But Tally needed to know that I would always respect her boundaries. So I pulled the door open and did as she’d asked.