Page 32 of Keeping Mr. Sweet

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ASH

“Ashleigh, thank God,” are the first words out of Summer’s mouth as she pushes open the door to pull me in for a smothering hug. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

“No need to worry. You know no one gets the best of me.” I hook my hand around her arm and try to pry her loose. “I’m fully capable of taking care of myself.”

“I know.” Her grip on me doesn’t lessen as she steps back to study me with the concern of a mother hen, never mind that we’re the same age. “But I saw that video, and you disappeared off the face of the earth. I was worried.”

“Well, I’m here now.” I pat her arm like her concern is unjustified. “We should have a drink.”

Behind us Sam clears his throat.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Summer asks me, her face suddenly hovering mere inches from mine.

“She’s staying with me,” Sam tells his sister as he steps inside and shrugs out of his North Face down jacket. We’re gathered in the tiny foyer amidst shoes and coats, and he takes the opportunity after he hangs his, to press his fingers to the small of my back, reminding me that he’s here with me whenever I need him. “Let me take your coat?”

“Yes.” I undo the buttons on my trench, and he holds it while I slip out of it.

“She’s staying with you?” Summer asks him, turning to me. “For how long?”

“Since last Tuesday.”

“Why didn’t you call me? You could have come here.”

“I know. I—” How does one tell their best friend they just couldn’t handle a million questions when the shit hit the fan?

“Sorry,” Sam jumps in. “Ash needed some space.”

“You could have told me, though.” Summer’s eyes widen as her gaze swings to her brother and she punches him in the arm. “I can’t believe you wouldn’t at least tell me that much, so I didn’t have to worry my heart out.”

“My fault,” I say. “I didn’t know how to tell you. Or what you’d think. Or if you wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore.” Inside, I’m hollow and cold, except for the burn behind my eyes. I’ve worked really hard on my ‘don’t give a damn’ attitude. What if for the first time in our lives she sees right through me and doesn’t like what she finds? “I needed time to work out what to do.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” she says. “I swear, sometimes I don’t understand you at all. I’m your best friend. I always have your back.”

“Thanks.” I sniffle. This time when I’m engulfed by her hug, I hold on tight. I want so very much to believe her when she says that.

“And have you? Worked it out.” She steps back. “Is there anything you can do about the video?”

“I have my lawyers sending out cease and desist letters every time a new copy pops up online,” Sam speaks for me, giving me a chance to collect myself. “I’m not sure there’s much else we can do.”

“I’m trying to ignore it,” I tell them. Or at least wish I could, but Luca’s last text message made it clear this situation isn’t going to fade away any time soon. It’s probably going to get much worse unless I can work out how to give him what he wants.

“Do you know who did it?” Dylan comes into view, his smile sympathetic. There are sprinkles and cake batter on his fingers that he wipes up with a kitchen towel. “I know a guy if you need. Doesn’t ask any questions.”

“Remind me again why I like you,” Sam grumbles.

Dylan chuckles. “Because your sister loves me, and I give good advice.”

“When have I ever asked you for advice?” Sam asks, confused.

“Last summer.” Dylan wiggles his eyebrows. “Remember when you asked me how I kept up with your sister, but what you were actually asking—”

“Zip it, Dylan.” Gabe elbows him in the ribs as he joins us, taking my hand and squeezing it. “Good to see you, Ash.”

I glance between the three men, aware that I will probably never know what that subtle dig was about, but hating the fact I bristle at the thought of it being about Mandy. Nobody knows about me and Sam. They don’t. His sister doesn’t have a clue. Mandy doesn’t have a clue. As far as they all know Mandy and I are as good at being friends as we were before she tried to make Sam hers. They might even think Sam and Mandy should have ended up together. Maybe they’re right. But I want to grab his arms and put them around me and tell them all that I never want to see or hear about anyone else with him again.

I glance up to find him looking at me like maybe he’s thinking the same thing. I swallow an influx of saliva that tastes a lot like I’m chicken and ignore the urge to touch him.

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