Kiss My Ash Read online

  “But if you’d rather I call you Ms. Richards, then who am I to argue?”

  Several excruciating beats later, she released a full exhale, her shoulders slumping forward. She dropped her chin to her chest, as if she needed a moment to catch her breath, and after a few seconds, she went back to the dishes, disregarding everything I’d said.

  Laughter rolled past my smiling lips, but it quickly fell flat when Emma returned to the kitchen. She regarded her mom, and then me, suspicion marring her brow as she studied us for several moments.

  “Am I interrupting something?” Apprehension weighed heavily in her tone.

  While Kristy’s spine went ramrod straight and her shoulders became stiff, I shook it off and acted casual, completely ignorant to her need to question anything. “Nah, we were just joking around about me calling your mom Ms. Richards.”

  Emma’s nose scrunched, and her top lip curled in disgust. Based on the deep creases in her brow, one might assume I had called her mom a MILF. But then she rolled her eyes and shook her head. “That’s stupid, Ash. No one calls her that. Anytime Thomas has tried, she corrects him. She says that makes her feel old, and having a teenager is enough to make her feel that way.”

  What I wouldn’t give to see Kristy’s face right now. But while Emma was in the room, I couldn’t even look her way—especially after the doubt in Emma’s eyes when she had first walked in. I didn’t have a clue what she’d seen, or what she thought she saw, so doing anything right now could be risky. I couldn’t chance drawing any unnecessary attention.

  “Anyway…I’m heading out, Mom. Thanks for dinner.”

  “You’re leaving already?” Even though I couldn’t see her face, Kristy’s apprehension rang loud and clear. “But you just got here.”

  Emma laughed while checking her watch. “Actually, I’ve been here for over an hour.” She walked over to her mom and kissed her cheek. “Love you. I’ll see you Friday night. And I promise…I’m all yours this weekend. You’ve been too sad lately, so we’re going to fix that with a little mother-daughter bonding time.”

  I tried to act like I wasn’t listening, yet I had heard every word Emma said, paying special attention to the part about Kristy’s recent mood. In a very twisted, fucked-up way, that was a good sign—it meant she cared about me. But on the other hand, it killed me to hear.

  “You staying, Ash?” Emma raised one brow like her mother often did.

  “Just long enough to finish setting this table up. There are parts for the pull-out drawer I still need to add, and then I have to go over the cleaning instructions. If you’re waiting to walk out with me, just give me like five minutes…ten tops.”

  “Oh, you’re fine. I’ll see you later.” She waved over her shoulder on her way to the front door.

  As soon as I heard it close and the latch clicked into place, I released a long exhale I didn’t realize I’d held. There was so much I wanted to say, except now that I had the freedom to get it all out, I couldn’t organize my thoughts enough to speak. Leaning into the new table with my hands pressed against the smooth top, the only thing that came to mind was, “So you don’t care if Emma’s other friends call you Kristy? They’re younger than I am…is it only against the law for me?”

  Kristy set two cups in the dishwasher and turned to face me, settling against the countertop with her arms crossed. This was the first time she’d looked at me since Emma had shown up, and it seemed all the anger and building frustrations over the last hour were about to explode.

  “Call me whatever you want, Ash. It’s not like you’ll take my feelings into consideration or anything. You seem to do what you want when you want. I guess it’s my fault for not knowing I was living in your world.”

  The only thing that separated us was the island, yet it might as well have been a football field. She had never felt more distant than she did right now. And if I thought going to her would help, I would have. Except, I was smart enough to know it would only make things worse.

  “What are you talking about, Kristy? My world? You think I wouldn’t take your feelings into consideration? I don’t even know what all that means or where it came from. This entire time, I’ve done nothing but respect you and your feelings.”

  “Oh, by putting me in a position to lose everything? I just assumed you only thought about yourself, not the fact that I could go to jail.” Her anger wasn’t unjustified, yet it wasn’t exactly warranted, either.

  In fact, all it did was provoke my own temper. I slapped the wood top and held her dark gaze for a beat. And with a tense jaw, not quite clenching my teeth, I explained, “You were the only one I fucking thought about. If not, then I would’ve fucked you weeks ago. Age of consent is seventeen. So technically, we could’ve had sex, and it wouldn’t have been against the law, yet I still chose to wait until my birthday. Don’t ever accuse me of not putting you first. Because that’s all I’ve done. Maybe you’re not used to someone looking out for your best interest or making you a top priority, and when it happens, you can’t recognize it. But that’s exactly what I did, Kristy—whether you want to admit it or not.”

  Either she wasn’t prepared for my harsh tone or she didn’t know how to process what I had to say, because rather than respond, she stood motionless, the only movement was the low dip in her throat as she swallowed.

  I pulled in a long, slow breath and held it for a second to calm down. And with a softer voice, I attempted to bring her back into the discussion. “So, is that why you won’t even look at me when you drive by? Or why you refuse to answer my texts?”

  “No, Ash. It’s because you’re a child. I had a hard enough time wrapping my mind around being with you when I thought you were twenty-two. Knowing you’re only seventeen makes me want to vomit.”

  “Why, though? Help me understand.” I was two seconds away from jumping over this counter, desperate to hold her until she gave up the war we both knew she didn’t want to be in. “You were into me—me, Kristy. Despite my age then or now, I’m still the same person. And don’t stand here and pretend you only stuck around for the promise of sex, because no one in their right mind would hang on for as long as you did if they didn’t care for the person. So tell me, why does the thought of me make you sick?”

  “Because!” She covered her face with her hands, yet the lack of eye contact didn’t stop her from explaining. “I shouldn’t be attracted to you. You’re barely eighteen. You’re still in school.” When she dropped her arms to her sides and lifted her gaze, there was no denying the painful struggle that tore her up inside. “And I’m a single mother—whose daughter isn’t much younger than you. I have a job, a mortgage, responsibilities you can’t begin to understand. I have no business entertaining the idea of any kind of relationship with someone your age.”

  “Is that your master plan? To mention our age difference enough so that I feel inadequate or unworthy and eventually give up on the idea of us being together?”

  Her eyes became so dull I wondered if all the color was gone; ironically, it matched her lackluster tone. “Is it working?”

  “Not one bit. Because I know you don’t believe the garbage you’re telling yourself. I understand why you’re having trouble wrapping your head around being with me right now. Trust me, I get it, which is why I was waiting until next month. But in three weeks, that problem—real or otherwise—is solved.”

  “Your age is only part of it, Ash. Turning eighteen won’t eliminate the rest of the hurdles or obstacles that will always be in the way. Your birthday won’t change the fact that I’m sixteen years older than you or—”

  “Fifteen,” I corrected, as if that would somehow make her feel better.

  “Regardless, I was learning algebraic equations while you were in diapers. You weren’t even two when I gave birth to my daughter. Do you not see anything wrong with that? At all?”

  I couldn’t stand having this countertop between us for a moment longer. So, I eased around it until we stood a foot apart, nothing stopping me fr
om reaching out to touch her—other than her panicked disposition. In order to keep myself from cradling her jaw or settling my hands on her curvy hips, I grabbed the edge of the table behind me until the corners of the wood bit into my fingers.

  “Trust me, Kristy, I haven’t forgotten for one second that a significant age gap exists between us. But let me be very clear about something. I don’t care if you were performing open-heart surgery when I was born, or if your kid was in high school when I started daycare. It doesn’t matter what you were doing eighteen years ago. The only thing I care about is that from now on, I’m what you’re doing. I don’t give a shit about where you used to be, as long as you’re with me now.”

  She glanced away and forced a smile on her lips, as if that would convince me that I hadn’t just gotten to her. Even if it had made me question it, when she faced me again, the burning desire in her eyes would’ve ended the charade. “You have a thing for middle-aged women? Or just lonely thirty-something-year-olds? Next, you’ll tell me you have some rare disease and you’re not expected to live long, and your dying wish is to bang the old maid next door. I hate to break it to you, Ash…but I don’t work for the Make-A-Wish Foundation.”

  Fuck holding back.

  Fuck keeping my hands to myself.

  Damn the rules and what was appropriate and what wasn’t.

  I let go of the counter and eliminated every ounce of space between us. When I slid my palm along her cheek, she met my gaze without a single attempt to move away. And when I opened my mouth to speak, she held her breath, as if she worried that the sound of her exhales might prevent her from hearing my every word. “You have no clue, do you? No idea how much I want you—Every. Piece. Of. You. How badly I need you.”

  “Ash.” It was only a whisper, yet the warning couldn’t have been missed.

  I ignored it and carried on with my attempt to make her hear me. “I lie in bed every night and wonder what your red hair would look like sprawled out across my chest. How long it would take before my pillowcase smelled like your shampoo. Every night I wonder what it would feel like to run my fingers through it while you drift off, curled into my side.”

  “Ash, please.”

  “Your eyes leave me dreaming of what color they turn right before you fall asleep. Or what they look like when you first wake up.”

  “Come on, that’s enough.” She shook her head, but that still didn’t stop me.

  “Your voice is soft and smooth, and I can’t help but imagine what you sound like first thing in the morning—if it’s scratchy or light as air.”

  “Asher!” She pressed her palms against my chest to stop me, though she didn’t do or say anything. She didn’t push me away or drop her hands, just stared at her fingers while maintaining her hold on me.

  And while I wished she would’ve yelled or screamed or said anything to keep this moving forward, I couldn’t be upset that she chose to withhold her thoughts, because it offered me a chance to get mine out. “I never thought I stood a chance with you…because of my age. But when we were at the pool together, and you asked me to hang out, everything changed.”

  Kristy chose that moment to find her strength, stepping back before withdrawing her hands from my chest. “Ash, stop. I’m not sure if I’m some kind of conquest to you, or if you have some sick bet going with your friends, but I’m not into whatever game this is. I want no part of it.”

  “It’s nothing like that. Just let me talk. Hear me out, please. After that, if you want to slam the door in my face and never speak to me again, then fine. There’s nothing I can do about it. But as of right now, I can try to explain, so please, let me.”

  Her shoulders deflated, yet she didn’t turn me down.

  I took a deep breath, straightened my spine, and prayed that I wouldn’t leave here with a broken heart. “You made it very clear that you weren’t interested in anything beyond sex, and I won’t lie, at the time, I wasn’t either. Or…I didn’t think I was. I just had to make it to my birthday, so I asked for the chance to get to know you and told you I’m not the kind of guy to jump into bed with a stranger. The last thing I expected was to develop feelings for you. But somewhere along the way, that’s exactly what happened. And I can’t take it back. I can’t rewind time and change it any more than you can.”

  She lifted her gaze, and in the shimmering, golden flares embedded in the sea of blue, I found my confidence. I discovered the reason to continue, to push forward, to make her understand my truth. Because in her eyes, I saw recognition—her own acknowledgment of the things I’d said, letting me know I wasn’t alone in this.

  “There’s nothing we can do about my age or how many years separate us. You will always have a daughter who was born before I was potty trained. And no matter how old we get, the fact that you were applying for colleges or studying for your SATs when I took my first breath will still remain.” I leaned forward and placed my hands on the counter behind her, caging her between my arms while refraining from actually touching any part of her. When I dipped my head to bring our faces closer, I was rewarded with her eyes on mine. “But none of that affects how I feel about you. It doesn’t have a damn thing to do with what we could have together. And it certainly won’t impact whatever future might be in store for us.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say, Ash.” While her whispered words feathered my lips, the grit in her voice ripped me open. The desperation embedded in each raspy syllable raked across my skin, leaving behind gaping wounds as raw as her unmasked emotions.

  However, everything she didn’t say became the salve I needed to get me through.

  At first glance, her reluctance to speak her mind appeared to be uncertainty. But after taking it all in, I was able to see it for what it truly was—fear of admitting she wanted something society would condemn her for. So, rather than expose her vulnerability, she had turned it back on me by making it about what I wanted her to say.

  I’d take that over rejection any day. I could work with fear. What I couldn’t do was convince her of something she didn’t agree with.

  Dropping my forehead to hers, I closed my eyes and sighed. “Play a game with me.”

  “What?” She tried to pull her head away, but I refused to let her.

  “Humor me, please. Close your eyes, and when I say something, tell me the first thing that comes to mind. Don’t think about it. Just blurt it out, okay?” I waited for a second, and when she didn’t argue, I continued. “A ripe tomato.”

  She hesitated for a beat, but eventually, she gave in. “Salad.”

  “A fur coat.”

  The smile on her lips lilted her voice when she said, “Snow.”

  “Two baby ducks.”

  “A pond.”

  I decided to try one last random idea before using this to my advantage. “Waves rolling onto a white, sandy beach.”

  “Sunburn.” Giggling, she added, “And aloe.”

  “Whispered words in your ear.”

  Her breathing slowed, though that didn’t stop her from responding. “Warmth.”

  “Talking on the phone until three in the morning.”

  A shaky exhale delivered her answer. “You.”

  “Me.” And then I held my breath while waiting for the unknown.

  Even though she wasn’t supposed to contemplate her response, that was exactly what she did. The seconds dragged on, each one more painful than the last. And when she finally spoke, I wished I could’ve gone back in time and ended the game after the last question, just to keep from having to hear her say, “Lies. Deceit. Pain. The boy next door who broke my heart.”

  I dropped my hands from the edge of the counter to her hips and pulled her body against mine. Surprisingly, she didn’t fight me, and instead, tucked her face into my chest. I brought my lips as close to her ear as I could without creating space between. “It’s not broken, Kristy. It just feels like that right now. But that tight, bruising pain in your chest is just your body’s natural response to the unexpected bum
p in the road we hit.”

  She didn’t speak, only pressed her face further into me while fisting the sides of my shirt. The heat of each erratic, panic-filled breath seeped through the thin material at the center of my chest. It blistered my skin while desperately attempting to turn my heart into a charred pile of ash and dust.

  “Don’t give up, Kristy. Please, babe…whatever you do between now and August ninth, don’t give up on me—on us.”

  Finally, she pulled her face away from my chest, and without making eye contact, she nudged me until I took a step back. “You should go. Thank you for the table, but I think I can handle moving everything over from the old one.”

  I told myself this wasn’t rejection, that her asking me to leave didn’t mean we were over, just that she needed to be alone to absorb it all. I had to tell myself that; otherwise, I never would’ve left, and despite my need to fix this now, I had to respect her wishes and do as she asked.

  Walking away from her had never been harder than it was at that moment. Hell, leaving her house the night she’d discovered my age had been easier. Although, there was a good chance that was only because my unfounded hope had left me delusional. But after fourteen days of utter silence, being completely shut out of her life, that hope had died, which made saying goodbye to her this time that much worse.

  I ran the pad of my thumb across her cheek, along her jawline, and down her neck while she stood motionless, her lowered eyelids guarding her true reaction to me. The only hint I got was the slight hitch in her gasping breath when I pressed a soft, chaste kiss right next to her lips. But even that didn’t give away anything other than her surprise.

  “Goodnight, Kristy.” I didn’t wait for a response before heading to the door. I refused to give her the opportunity to land one final blow to the little bit of hope I had left, which by this point, was the equivalent of wishing on a shooting star.

  Except in my case, it’d be a falling satellite, crashing back to Earth in a raging ball of fire going eighty-four thousand miles per hour. But I was too desperate to care about the details. In fact, had I thought about it, I might’ve done the same with a penny—tossing it into my toilet and calling it a wishing well.