One Tiny Lie (Ten Tiny Breaths #2)(88)
I struggle to wrap my head around this entire situation but I can’t. I can’t make sense of it. How could a man hate his own child this much? How could he find satisfaction in dominating another person’s life so completely? Ashton’s dad is sick. Just thinking about how such cruelty could be packaged in a sharp suit and successful career twists my stomach. I don’t care what dark demons lie in Ashton’s father’s past to make him like this. The person that I am will never find an acceptable answer for all that man has done.
I gently push against Ashton’s shoulder, enough to see his face again, and a few tears streaking his cheek. I search his features while his eyes rest on my mouth for a long moment. “When you came to my room that night and . . .” He swallows, his forehead furrowing. “I wanted to tell you. I should have told you before we . . .” Ashton’s expression twists in pain. “I’m so sorry. I knew I’d end up hurting you and I let it happen anyway.”
I won’t let him punish himself for another second about that night. “I don’t regret it, Ashton,” I answer truthfully, giving him a small, reassuring smile. If there is one mistake I will never regret for the rest of my life, it is Ashton Henley. “So, what now?” I hesitate before asking, “What happened with Dana?”
“She screamed and cried a lot. And then she said that if I promised to never let it happen again, she’d forgive me.”
Coils tighten around my stomach. Ashton is still engaged. His father still controls him. And I shouldn’t be here, getting this close to him. Shutting my eyes against the harsh reality, I sigh and whisper, “Okay.”
In a gruff voice, struggling to contain emotion, Ashton whispers, “Look at me, Irish.”
It’s through a haze of tears that I see his tiny smile, and I frown in confusion. Raising a hand to pinch my chin, Ashton pulls me into a soft kiss. It’s closemouthed and it doesn’t last long, but it leaves me breathless all the same. And all the more confused.
Ashton whispers. “I said, ‘No.’”
“But . .. ” I turn to take in his mother’s home. “He’ll transfer her from here to that awful place . . .”
“This is a new place, Irish. I moved my mom here a week ago.” A strange grin transforms Ashton’s face—a mixture of elation and relief and giddiness. It only amplifies his suddenly teary eyes.
“I don’t . . . I don’t get it.” My heart has gone from breaking into pieces to now galloping and skipping over beats with anticipation. I know that he’s hinting at something profound but I don’t know what and I need to, now. “Tell me what’s going on, Ashton.”
His expression turns somber. “I ended things with Dana. I realized that my life wasn’t the only one being ruined in this mess anymore.” A flash of pain crosses his eyes with a memory. “I saw the empty look on your face when you walked down the stairs and out the door that day. It destroyed me. After that, I did the only thing I could do. I went to see Coach. He’s . . . I’ve always envied Reagan for having a dad like that. Well, Coach cracked a bottle of Hennessy and I told him everything.” His words bring me back to my night of confession with Kacey and tequila. It’s kind of funny that we were doing the exact same thing at the exact same time . . . “Coach demanded that I stay with them for a few days until we could sort things out. Sure enough, my phone was ringing off the hook on Monday morning, my dad telling me to fix it with Dana or else. I bought myself some time, telling him that I was trying. Meanwhile, Coach and I started contacting friends of his—lawyers, doctors, Princeton alumni—looking for a way around my dad’s legal control over my mother, a way to get her somewhere safe. It didn’t look like we were going to get anywhere. I was sure I was trapped.” A wry smirk touches his lips. “And then Dr. Stayner showed up on Coach’s doorstep four days later.”
My eyes widen with shock. “What? How?” Four days later . . . That means he literally left me in Miami and flew to New Jersey.
“Apparently he tracked down Coach, figuring he’d find me that way.”
Of course. “I . . .” I heave a sigh, feeling guilty for divulging so much of Ashton’s personal life. “I’m sorry. I told him things about you when I was in Miami. I needed to get it all out. I didn’t ever think he would come here.” Why didn’t I think he would do that?
Ashton shushes me with a finger against my lips. “It’s okay. Really. It’s . . . more than okay. In fact, it has made everything okay.” Ashton’s head shakes as he laughs. “That guy is something else. He has a way of getting information out of you—you know you’re being interrogated but in a friendly way. I’ve never seen Coach defer to anyone like he did with Stayner.”
Rolling my eyes, I can’t help but giggle. “I know exactly what you mean.”
“In four hours—no lie, Irish, four hours—the guy had a full rundown of my past and my situation. He made a bunch of phone calls to colleagues.” Nodding his head toward the house, Ashton explains, “The director of this place is a very good friend of his. He lined up a room.” He smiles sadly. “They don’t think she has too much longer now. Maybe another year or two. Her old place was nicer, but it didn’t make sense for her to be there anymore, with the expensive treatment and therapy. Nothing is going to bring her back. I’ve accepted that. She just needs a place where she’s safe and comfortable. She needs peace now.”