Ruthless Love (Ash and Innocence 1)

“I’m thinking we can show you a few tricks you could take back to your boyfriend,” the guy said. “It’s the least we can do.”

I had only managed to back up a few steps before I saw Cassian, Gage, and Logan come running into view. I never thought I’d be happy to see Cassian, of all people, but I was.

“You okay, Kennedy?” Gage asked. “I saw this creep get his friends to run after you when you left.”

The older guys looked toward Gage and his friends. Even though they were younger, the three of them were covered in muscle and big for their ages. It seemed like the college guys realized it, too. “Fuck ‘em. She’s not worth it.”

They tried to walk past Cassian too closely, which earned one of the older guys a hard shove that nearly sent him toppling off the path and down into the underbrush.

I held my breath until they were out of view.

“You good?” Gage asked again.

I felt an unexpected welling of emotion that made my throat thick and my eyes sting. “I’m okay.”

“C’mon,” Logan said. “We’ll walk you home.”

We headed back to my place in silence until we reached the porch. “Thank you, guys,” I said.

“It’s just too bad they didn’t want to fight,” Cassian said.

“Don’t mind him.” Gage smirked. “Cassian is a bloodthirsty lunatic. What he means is you’re welcome. We’re glad we got there when we did.”

Logan seemed to read the look on my face. “Tristan was inside, I think.”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I know. Are you guys going to tell him?”

“If we don’t,” Logan said. “He’ll find out.”

I nodded. I wasn’t sure why I dreaded the idea of him knowing he hadn’t been there when I needed help. Maybe it was more that I knew how much he’d beat himself up over it. I wished I could spare him that.

“You guys had better go before my mom comes home. She might try to run all of you over.”

Cassian nudged Logan. “That might work out nice for you. Maybe you could sue her insurance to pay for some groceries.”

Logan’s voice was dry. “You’re hilarious. Stay safe, Kennedy.”

Gage and Logan gave me a quick wave before the three of them headed back to Tristan’s place.* * *Later that night, I was standing over the stove waiting for spaghetti to boil. Mom was going to be coming home a little before midnight, and I wanted to have something ready for her. I didn’t always make her food when she got home this late, but ever since Tristan had come over for dinner, she’d seemed on edge. I wanted to smooth things over between us.

My wheelchair was nearby, but I took special pleasure in walking freely as I prepared the meal. Little conveniences like not having to dangerously move boiling water from the stove to the sink to dump the pasta while seated were amazing. My mind wandered while I cooked.

When I was with Tristan, I’d felt strangely free, even before I got out of my chair. He made me feel like it was okay to take risks and be daring—to live. It was the one thing I had never quite figured out on my own.

Now that it felt like he was drifting away from me, I could already feel the iron chains threatening to close in on me again. Without him, I’d wind up closing myself off again and letting the world turn back into something I just read about and watched on TV.

I could still hear the dull thumping sound of music coming through the woods from his house. Cars occasionally rolled down the road behind our house to his gated driveway. I wondered if Haisley was in any of them, if she’d feel less complicated than me right now.

My cheek twitched at the thought.

I tried not to imagine it, but I saw the two of them in my mind in a darkened room while music bled through the walls. I saw his hands on her and their naked bodies twining together on the bed. I heard him whispering the same dirty jokes in her ears that he had told me.

I grabbed the pot, swearing when I burned my hand from forgetting to use an oven mitt.

I was being stupid, and I knew it. I just needed to let him have a little space and trust that he wasn’t the same Tristan who had tormented me over the summer.

I plated the food, doing my best to stop dwelling on it. I could talk to him tomorrow and we’d clear everything up.

My mom came home about ten minutes later.

We both sat quietly at the table—me in my wheelchair and her to my side. She was watching me closely. The paranoid part of me felt like she somehow knew I didn’t need the chair anymore.

Her attention made me want to do something stupid, like let my eyes go unfocused and pretend I was extra dizzy. I fought the urge and smiled tightly. “Is the sauce good? We didn’t have the right kind of tomato paste, so I tried to fiddle with the recipe a little.”