One Tiny Lie (Ten Tiny Breaths, #2)(72)

Those pretty green eyes flash with amusement. “Don’t be. They’re going to love you. Stay right here.” In many ways, I’m more worried about that than his mother pointing an accusatory finger at me while she screams “whore” in front of thousands of people.

I watch his lean form weave through the crowds.

And then I turn to look for my towering, beautiful man. I see him almost immediately. He’s impossible to miss. His hair is damp and pushed back, falling at different angles around his face. His muscles are tight from the recent exertion. A slick sheen covers his body, as it did Connor’s. I realize I wouldn’t hesitate for a second to throw myself at Ashton, though.

He’s walking up from the water with a towel around his neck as he wipes the sweat off. When his head lifts, he catches my eye and my breath in an instant. I haven’t seen him in a few days and my body instinctively gravitates toward him.

I give him a wide smile and mouth, “Congratulations.”

His head bobs once.

And then he turns away and walks toward the pretty blond waiting at the sidelines with a group of people. I watch Dana dive into his side, grinning wide. Without hesitation, he puts his arm around her shoulder and smiles down at her as if there isn’t anyone else in the world for him. As if I’m not right here, twenty feet away, watching it all.

Whether real relationship or not, it reminds me that Ashton is not mine. He never was mine.

He probably never will be mine.

The air is temporarily knocked out of my lungs.

Fighting against the sting, keeping the tears from slipping out—tears I have no right to shed—I swallow and turn my attention to the two older couples with them. One I quickly deduce as Dana’s parents—she shares too many facial traits with them to be otherwise. I turn my attention to the other couple, to the stylish blond woman of maybe thirty. She’s scanning her phone, her expression one of boredom, suggesting she was dragged here and can’t wait to leave. Next to her is a well-dressed and attractive older man with gray streaks running through his hair.

“That’s Ashton’s dad,” Reagan whispers to me as I watch him reach out and extend his somewhat stiff arm to Ashton. Ashton immediately takes it, dipping his head as he does so, I notice. As a sign of respect or submission, I’m not sure.

I study the man, looking for signs of the devil hidden within, of the manacle he has clasped around his son’s neck. I see nothing. But I know that’s meaningless because I’ve seen the proof. I’ve seen the scars, the belt, the resignation and pain in Ashton’s voice the few times he’s let it in. And this man’s smile doesn’t touch his eyes. I notice that.

I look between him and Dana’s father and I wonder how those conversations went. Does Dana’s father know his daughter is being used as collateral over Ashton’s head?

Reagan’s hand rubs my back. “He’s a jerk, Livie. A ridiculously hot, brooding jerk that even I’d have a hard time saying no to if he made me scream like that . . .” I have to look away from Ashton as my cheeks flame with the reminder. Through the snippets of teasing, I’ve quickly deduced that Reagan walked in right at the pinnacle moment. She sighs. “There’s nothing worthwhile beneath all that. It’s just who he is. He likes the game.”

Is she right? I can’t play this game with you, Irish.

Have I fallen for Ashton’s act? Everything in my heart says that the answer is no. But my head . . . This is all such a mess when it doesn’t need to be. I have a wonderful guy bringing his parents over to meet me while I fight back tears over a guy who makes me lose all control, all sensibility. Who makes me hurt.

“Gidget!” Grant’s loud call for Reagan pulls my attention away from my inner turmoil for a second to see him grab her from behind, folding his long, lean arms around her body in a fierce hug.

She squeals and spins around to loop her short arms around his neck. “Stop it! Daddy’s somewhere around.” She places a kiss on his cheek.

As if on cue, Reagan’s dad booms from behind, “Grant!”

Reagan breaks away quickly, her eyes widening for a split second. “Shit,” she mumbles, edging away from Grant before Robert’s looming stature appears beside him.

Slapping his hand over Grant’s shoulder, he says, “Good race, son.”

“Thanks, Coach.” Grant flashes his trademark goofy grin, but I notice he can’t hold Robert’s eye, his focus quickly shifting to the crowd.

If Robert notices Grant’s nervousness, he doesn’t let on. “Ty’s looking for you.” Pointing to the water, he adds, “Down there.” Away from his daughter.

With a salute, Grant spins on his heels and disappears into the crowd.

“Young lady . . . ,” Robert starts to say, his brow pulled together in a frown as he regards his tiny daughter.

She throws her arms around his sizeable belly. “Great race, Daddy! I’m going to go find Mom.” Like a small child in a crowd, she easily slithers between two people and vanishes before he can utter another word, leaving him shaking his head in her direction. “I wonder how long it’s going to take before she admits to me that they’re together.”

My mouth drops open, my eyes no doubt wide with shock. Is he testing me? Does he want to see if I’ll confirm his suspicions?

“Oh, don’t tell her I know.” Robert’s head shakes dismissively. “As long as she thinks I disapprove of Grant, she’ll stay with him.”