One Tiny Lie (Ten Tiny Breaths #2)(87)
“He stopped hitting me the day we moved my mom into a high-end research and treatment facility. I was fourteen. At the time, I still held out hope that she might get better, that the treatment would reverse or stall the disease. She still laughed at my jokes and sang that song in Spanish . . . She was still in there, somewhere. I had to hope that we could buy enough time until they found a cure.” Ashton’s head dips. “That was the first day my mom asked me who I was. And when he came at me that night . . . I knocked him flat on his back. I was a big kid. I told him to go ahead and hit me as hard as he could. I didn’t care anymore. But he didn’t. He never laid a hand on me again.”
With a resigned sigh, Ashton gazes up at my face as he brushes the never-ending stream of tears from my cheeks with his thumbs. “He found a better way to punish me for breathing. I just didn’t realize exactly what it was at the time. He sold our house and moved us across the city after that, for no reason other than to remove me from the life I knew, forcing me to change schools, to leave my friends. He could have shipped me off to boarding school and washed his hands of me as a responsibility, but he didn’t. Instead, he started dictating who I would speak to, who I would date, what sports I would play.” With a snort, Ashton mutters, “He’s actually the one who demanded I join crew. Kind of ironic, given that rowing is the one thing that I love to do . . . Anyway, one night when I was fifteen, he came home from work unexpectedly to find my unapproved girlfriend and me fu—” Dark eyes flash to my face as my back stiffens. “Sorry . . . messing around. He called her a whore and kicked her out of the house. I snapped. I had him off the ground, ready to pound the shit out of him.” Ashton’s arms tense around my body as he holds me close to him. “That’s when he started using my mother against me.”
I feel my brow furrowing with confusion.
“He threw around numbers—the price of keeping her in her expensive facility, how much it would cost if she survived another ten years. Said that he was beginning to question the point of it. She wasn’t going to get better, so why waste money.” Ashton’s tongue slides over his teeth. “A waste of money. That’s what the love of his life became to him. He hadn’t gone to see her since the day he put her there. His wedding ring was long gone.
“I didn’t want to believe that. I couldn’t just give up on her. She was all I had and he knew it. So he made my choice very simple—I could either live the life he permitted me to live or her last few years would be spent in some shithole, waiting to die. He even found newspaper clippings, examples of horror stories from those kinds of places—neglect, assault . . . That’s the day I realized how much my dad despised me for being born. And I knew he’d follow through with his threat.”
I release the air I’ve been holding. So this is what he’s been hanging over Ashton’s head all this time.
His mother.
“So I gave in. Over the years, I’ve kept quietly accepting his demands.” With a snort, Ashton mutters, “The worst part? I could never really complain. I mean, look at my life! I’m going to Princeton, I have money, a car, a guaranteed job at one of the most prominent law firms in the country. It’s not like he’s torturing me. He’s just . . .” Ashton heaves a sigh. “He just took away my freedom to choose how I live.”
“Well, forcing you to marry someone is something to complain about,” I mutter bitterly.
Ashton’s head bows, his voice turning gruff. “That was the worst day of my life. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the engagement.”
“Look at me,” I demand, lifting Ashton’s face with a finger under his chin. I want so badly to kiss him right now but I can’t cross that line. Not until I know . . . “What happened with Dana? Where do things stand?” Is the wedding still on? Is what we’re doing right now, sitting here together, wrong?
Those gorgeous brown eyes take in my features for a moment before continuing. “Three years ago, I was at the firm’s summer golf tournament, playing with my dad, when a new client introduced himself and his daughter to me. She was there, playing with him. That’s how Dana and I met. I guess Dana’s dad mentioned something about how much he’d love his daughter to be with a guy like me . . .” Ashton’s neck muscles cord. “Dad saw an opportunity. Dana’s father had given the firm only a portion of his businesses while three other law firms represented the rest. Getting ‘in’ with Dana’s dad was a huge financial win for the firm. Worth tens of millions, maybe more. So I was instructed to make Dana love me.” Ashton’s arms shift to pull me tight to his chest as he buries his face against my collarbone, making my pulse begin to race. He keeps talking, though. “She was pretty and blond and really sweet. I never felt anything real for her but I couldn’t complain about having a girlfriend like her. Plus she lived across the country most of the year, going to school, so it’s not like she cramped my lifestyle. Not until you came along.” I resist the urge to lean down. It would be so easy . . . just a little shift and my mouth could be on his.
“Three weeks ago, my dad called me and told me to propose. Dating Dana had secured a larger portion of her dad’s business. He figured marrying her would secure him the rest. I refused. The next day, I got the call from the facility with questions about my mother’s impending transfer to a nursing home in Philadelphia. I was barely off the phone when I got an email from my father with at least a dozen reports of neglect at this place. Even a sexual assault case that got thrown out of court on a technicality. The sick bastard was waiting and ready for it.” Ashton’s chest lifts and falls against me in a resigned sigh. “I had no choice. When he handed me the ring two weeks ago, after the race, I asked Dana to marry me. I told her she was the love of my life. I couldn’t risk her saying no. I was going to convince her to have a long engagement, until I finished law school. I just needed to hold out until my mother died and then I could break it off.” The self-loathing in his voice is unmistakable. He hates himself for it.