Page 13 of Surviving the Break
“That’s a great idea. Give me a list of what you’ll need.”
“I can get everything myself. I happen to have connections in the field of medicine,” he deadpanned, and I rolled my eyes.
He backed away, amused, and a thought occurred to me. “Hey, did Justin mention the dating auction?”
“He might’ve mentioned something about you walking a runway and being sold for a good cause.” Again, he gave his playful smile. I laughed.
“It’s in the auditorium. I’ll be walking from backstage to center stage. It’s hardly a runway. You should sign up.” If Ash was in the auction, then he couldn’t participate in the bidding. It might’ve been a presumptuous thought, but I’d rather not take any chances.
“Can’t. My schedule’s too unpredictable. Wouldn’t want to have to cancel at the last minute.” He walked off, and I couldn’t help but wonder if his disappointed look meant the reasoning behind my suggestion had been transparent.
THE CLASSROOMS WEREempty and the corridors silent. I’d stayed late to go over the plans I’d drawn up for the new library buildout and to also finish up a few things for the fast approaching fundraiser. Now, tired and ready to go home, I found myself on a wild goose chase in search of Pluto.
Entering the clinical lab, I came to a stop at seeing Ash behind the desk with his head resting in his palms, elbows on the table. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were in here. I’m trying to track down Pluto…”
He slowly raised his head, his eyes laden with exhaustion.
“Ash?” I moved an uncertain step closer, and he dropped his head into his hands, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his palms. “Are you okay?”
“What would it mean to you if I wasn’t?”
The naked vulnerability in his question tugged at my heart, but before I could muster an answer, he gave me an out.
“I’m fine,” he lied, and I narrowed my eyes because Ash wasn’t a liar. Not even for small things. That much I knew. “That’s not true,” he admitted on a long exhale. He scooped up his phone and held it up. “I got a call from my clinic on Main St. One of our young mothers had her child taken away from her by Child Protective Services.” His cheeks filled with air, and he blew out a sigh, running a hand across his gray hair. “It’s frustrating, is all.”
My brows dipped in confusion. “I thought you worked at the hospital?”
“I do. I also run a clinic that offers prenatal care to young expectant mothers in underserved communities. It’s the work I’m most proud of.” He offered a weak smile at the surprise that flickered across my face. “You should stop by sometime.” He slipped his phone in his breast pocket.
I’d read an article about the great work being done at that clinic. I rode past it often.Ashwas responsible for all that? A pang of guilt hit me square in the chest. I’d been avoiding him since the day he’d caught me staring at the schedule in the lobby, not saying more than a few words to him when we crossed paths. So concerned about him wanting to get to know me, I hadn’t considered getting to know more about him. Or rather, the thought terrified me. I stepped closer, “I had no idea that was your clinic.”
“I never told you,” he said, giving a halfhearted smile, too weary for anything else. He nicked his chin toward the door. “It’s okay. You can go. I’ll be heading home myself in a bit.”
My lips thinned as I took in the more than ten feet that still separated us. I chastised myself for behaving like he was nuclear. “Can you tell me what happened?” I slid onto the metal stool across from him.
“She had nowhere to live. She’d been bouncing from place to place while trying to get her affairs in order. She left the baby unattended in a storage closet of the office building where she was interviewing for a job. One that would have afforded her a place of her own.” He waved a hand in frustration.
I wanted to know more, but now wasn’t the time. His shoulders could barely hold his head up. Fatigue and anger created a debilitating mix. The breadth of the laboratory table separated us, but his emotions pushed against me like an invisible force field. His eyes dropped to both our hands resting on the table. His fingers flexed in my direction, and I went rigid out of habit. He retreated, his hands falling to his lap.
I wanted to comfort him, but I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. Or maybe it was a lack of trust I had in myself. If I couldfeelhim without him laying a hand on me, what would him touching me do?
Pluto turned up, jogged past me, and went around to Ash. He accepted Ash’s affections, then lay near his feet. Ash started to say something, then stopped. After a silent debate with himself, he continued, “When my mother and I moved to Chadwick, our first set of neighbors had a daughter around my age. Her name was Marisol. She and I became best friends over that summer. We rode our bikes together, played basketball together, ate dinner at each other’s house. She was taller, faster, and she beat me at everything. She was the brother I never had,” he chuckled, and I sat quietly, listening.
“And then she went on to start high school while I went on to finish my last year of junior high. She made new friends, became busy with her sports, and I became a jealous nightmare for her to be around.”
I listened intently as he became lost in his own story, wondering where it would lead because Ash always had a point.
“She pinned me down one day, literally pinned me by my shoulders to the ground and made me come clean about why I’d been snapping at her, ditching her calls and pretending to be sick when she would ring the bell. I confessed and she called me an idiot. Told me that we were best friends, and no one would ever take my place in her life.” He looked to the ceiling. “She told me she loved me. Marisol wasn’t one for emotional overtures. Her saying she loved me was the only time I’d ever seen her soften.” His gaze collided with mine, and the gray of his irises were almost pitch black from the intensity of his regret, and my heart broke for him. I understood regret all too well. “I didn’t say it back. In fact, I pretended to be detached and took pleasure in her pain. The next day, the bus transporting Marisol and her teammates to a game at a rival school was struck by a car-carrier trailer. I never saw Marisol again. My best friend was gone, and I never got to say,I love you too.”
“Ash…” I breathed with remorse. I searched his face, trying to gain the meaning from his tragedy. How it related to what he’d experienced tonight. Ash didn’t waste words. I feared it was geared toward me.
“Not returning the sentiment had made me feel powerful. For once, I wasn’t the one a few steps behind in our friendship. I wasn’t the loser. Saying it in return would’ve meant handing her back the power, and I wanted to hold on to it a while longer.”
My mouth parted slightly, and I could taste his shame. His anger. “Why are you telling me this?”
“It’s been nearly three months since we met each other, officially, and this is the closest we’ve come to a real conversation. I suppose I needed you to know something about me. About whatmotivatesme.”
Cold fear overcame me, as it did whenever things veered from the superficial between us. My jaw tensed, and my limbs fought to take flight. I gripped the edges of the stool to remain seated.
