“I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” I scrambled out of his car then darted from his garage.
Once my feet hit the sidewalk, I realized that things were even worse than I’d thought. He had flowerbeds, with bushes that were trimmed to . . . well, perfection.
“Shit,” I cursed as I saw of the basketball hoop in the driveway across the street.
“Ash!” Flint called as he followed me out.
I turned back to look at him and caught sight of the scariest thing I had ever seen in all of my nineteen years.
There was a wreath.
On his door.
And it wasn’t even Christmas.
“I have to get out of here,” I told myself.
“What the hell is going on?” he asked, suddenly stepping in front of me.
“I can’t,” was all I said before taking off at a sprint.
“Ash!” he yelled, but I didn’t bother to stop. I couldn’t even if I’d wanted.
And God, did I want to.
I ran until my legs wouldn’t carry me any farther, which ended up being approximately two blocks. (I noted that track and field was decidedly not my forte.) Out of breath, I sat on the concrete sidewalk, not daring to touch the plush grass, then hugged my knees to my chest.
“This was such a bad idea.” I tucked my head low, praying that I could disappear.
It didn’t take but a minute or two before I saw the headlights of his car as they rounded the corner. I heard the creak of his car door open before he grumbled, “I am sick and fucking tired of chasing you.”
“Can you please take me home now?” I told my knees.
He let out a frustrated sigh. “Jesus Christ, what is going on?”
“I have to leave. Like, now. I need to go home.”
“Fuck, Ash. Is that what you really want?”
“Yes,” I lied. Swallowing hard to mask the emotion, I looked up into what I fully expected to be his angry eyes. Only they weren’t at all; they were soft and sincere. And it made my decision hurt that much more.
“All right.” He loudly exhaled. “Get in the car.”
“Thank you.” My heart began to slow in relief even as dread filled my stomach.
I slid into the passenger’s seat, and Flint grudgingly climbed behind the wheel.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, dropping my head back against the headrest and closing my eyes as he started to drive off.
“Yeah. Me too,” he mumbled, breaking my already shattered heart.
I kept my eyes closed as I felt him do a U-turn, beginning our journey back to Willing Hearts.
Back to my home.
Or so I’d thought.
“You are fucking insane if you think I’m taking you back to a homeless shelter,” he boomed as the car bumped over the curb of his driveway.
My eyes flew open as he once again drove into his garage. Grabbing my wrist, he restrained me while waiting for the door to seal us in.
“You liar!” I screeched.
“No, I didn’t lie at all. I already told you this was your home now,” he said smugly.
I wanted to slap that stupid look off his face. Or kiss it. I wasn’t sure which.
“Flint, you can’t tell someone where to live.”
He lifted his eyebrows and leaned in closer before whispering, “Watch me.”
Yep, I definitely wanted to slap him.
And maybe still kiss him a little.
“I think you’re the insane one.” I snatched my arm away and swung the car door open. Frantically, I tried to figure out how to open his garage as he lumbered out of the car.
“You can try to run, and I may not be able to chase you physically, but we need to be clear on one thing, Ash. I will not let you go again.”
I froze.
“You belong with me. And I will do whatever I have to do in order to keep you. I fucked up the first time. I won’t do it again. You can walk out that door, but know that I will find you. I will chase you for the rest of my life if that is what it takes to be with you.”
I’d waited my entire life to hear someone say those words to me.
Anyone to say those words to me.
My mom. My dad. Hell, I would have even been okay if Quarry had said them when he was fourteen.
But Flint saying them was almost too much.
Slowly, I turned to face him. I had no idea how to respond, but if he was going to be honest, so would I.
“I can’t stay in this perfect house in this perfect neighborhood where I’m the dirtiest thing in it.” I shrugged and offered him a tight smile that served no purpose because I knew it was transparent.
“Jesus.” He immediately made his way over to me. Supporting himself on one hand, he dropped a crutch to the ground and folded an arm around my waist, pulling me against his chest. “Don’t say shit like that.”
“I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you to live here. I thought we were gonna go back to your old apartment, where dirt lined the streets and people like me lived upstairs.”
“Stop.” He kissed the top of my head. “What did I do to you?” he asked rhetorically.
I answered anyway. “Nothing. You didn’t do anything to me, Flint.”
“And that’s exactly the problem.”
I didn’t understand his response, but I didn’t have time to harp on it.