Chapter One
Ainsley
~Four Years Earlier~
“You should talk to him, Ainsley,” my mother urges as we stand in the kitchen of Lachlan’s childhood home.
Lachlan West—my brother Caspian’s best friend and, if I’m honest, my friend—is outside alone, holding a bottle of alcohol, his head lowered.
Today we buried his mother, who had been a part of my life for as long as I can remember.
My heart is breaking for him.
The house was filled with family and friends, but they’ve all left. My mother and I stayed to put food away and clean up. I’m standing at the French doors while the man I secretly love grieves.
I turn to her, grabbing the towel off the counter to dry dishes. “And say what?”
My mother gives me a soft smile. “You’ll know.”
No, I never know with him—that’s the issue. Everyone loves to tell me how great I am in difficult situations, that I always know what to say, but most of the time I feel just as awkward as anyone else. I just . . . at least try.
However, in the last three years, things have changed so much between us. I’m no longer the annoying little girl who follows him and Caspian around. I’m a grown woman, in college, and desperately in love with him.
That last part is the real crux of the issue, because he’s definitely not in love with me.
She nudges me toward the door, and I sigh because I can’t watch him suffer. I open the glass door and walk barefoot onto the cool stone walkway.
He looks over, eyes glazed from the alcohol. “I don’t want to talk.”
I nod. “Good. I don’t either.” I grab the bottle from his hand and take a swig. Dear God, is he drinking acid? I cough, because it tastes like burnt wood, and hand it back.
Lachlan laughs and shakes his head. “Amateur.”
“Sorry, I’ve spent my college days actually going to class—not drinking sludge.”
“Good. You’re too smart to waste your life away.”
“Or I’m a dork, like you’ve said a hundred times.” I sway, bumping into his shoulder.
“You’re not a dork.”
“That’s the booze talking.”
He looks at me, really looks at me, and shakes his head. “It’s not.”
Well, there’s an improvement.
We both sit on the bench Lachlan bought his mother six years ago so she’d come out to the garden she loved so much. This was truly the one place she felt joy in this house. I grew up next door, and I can remember her little bamboo hat floating around her yard as she trimmed hedges and sang.
This place is like a magazine-worthy arboretum, complete with stone arches.
I rest my head on his shoulder and sigh. “I used to love sneaking over here to read. I always worried your mom would toss me out.”
He snorts. “Please, she built you a freaking nook with a swing.”
I grin. “She didn’t do that for me.”
He turns, forcing me to sit up. “She did. I had to install it because she wanted you to have a tranquil spot where you thought you could hide easier.”
“That’s so sweet.”
I wish I could thank her. I wish I could ask her a hundred questions, have another slice of her cake or cookies. So many things that Isabelle will no longer be able to give to this world.
“She thought you were special,” he says softly.
“Most people do.”
“Most people are right.”
“Are you saying you think I’m special?” I tease.
“No, I think you’re Painsley.”
I huff, hating that stupid nickname more than ever. I’m not a pain, I’m . . . unique and completely lovable.
Instead of going at him, like I normally do, I let the jab go and return to resting my head on his shoulder.
He takes another long drink from the bottle, and I can feel the sadness coming off him in waves.
I wish I could fix this. I would take all this hurt and carry it if it meant he wouldn’t be in this much pain.
“Lach, you don’t have to do this all on your own, you know? We’re here for you, we love you.”
He scoffs. “I’m always doing it on my own. Always.”
“That’s not true,” I say softly. “You have support.”
“You don’t get it, Ainsley. I do this on my own. All of it. I’m raising Rose alone. I was alone when my father deployed all the damn time and Mom would shut herself off because he left her.”
The order of that statement is a little off, and also very skewed, but he’s grieving and drunk.
However, Lachlan’s father didn’t leave. In fact, their marriage was one that I always admired. Two people who loved each other so deeply that when his father had to deploy with the navy, she felt his loss in her soul.
Where my parents barely tolerate each other and I’m pretty sure my mother is going to leave as soon as I’m done with college.
“Okay, let’s say that’s true. That doesn’t change the fact that you have people who love you and want to be here for you.”
He drinks more and then places the bottle on the ground. “I would never abandon the people I love.”
“I know.”
“You can’t know. You can’t see it. You can’t understand that all I want is to be a good man, better than my father. To give the people in my life stability, and all I do is fuck that up.”
He’s loyal beyond measure. When Lachlan cares about someone, he does it with his whole heart. It’s what made him the incredible father he is. He walked away from a chance at playing professional football and became a firefighter in a small town in Virginia because he wanted to give Rose the life he never had.
One where your father isn’t constantly absent because of his naval career.
I reach forward, resting my hand on his arm. “That’s not true. You’re not fucking anything up. You’re an amazing dad to Rose. She adores you.”
“She’s two.”
“And she loves you, Lachlan.”
He gets to his feet, pacing in the small space. “Because she doesn’t know any better.”
He’s not making sense. “Well, I know better. I know who you are, and there is nothing but goodness inside of you.”
He laughs once and drops his head back, staring up at the sky. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew what I thought half the time.”
I stand, moving closer to him. “What does that mean?”
Lachlan turns his head to stare at me. “You should go home, Ainsley. Please.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m piss drunk, and you shouldn’t be out here with me alone.”
“You would never hurt me,” I say, feeling as though I’m missing something.
“That’s not why you should go. It’s not hurt I want to cause.”
Slowly, as though time is in the process of becoming suspended, something changes. His eyes aren’t full of anger, but something else. Something I’ve never seen. There’s a charge in the air and my stomach drops.
Is he . . . does he . . . want to kiss me?
No. That can’t be.
It’s me who lives in this wild desire-filled haze around him.
Not Lachlan. I’m that annoying brat he had to have tag along when he was with Caspian.
I step back a little, and that look fades just a bit.
“What do you want then?”
“I want things with you I shouldn’t want,” he says aloud.
“What things?” I ask, unsure if he meant to say that.
He steps forward. “You.”
“You want me?” I move back.
“Every fucking minute, and I hate myself for it.” Another step forward.
My stomach tightens a little and I stand my ground. “What if I want you too?”
He shakes his head slightly. “You shouldn’t.”
I don’t know that I’ll ever get a moment like this again. If it’s a dream or a chance or something else, I need to take it. I step to him, pressing my hand to his cheek. “Lachlan.” I say his name with all the love in my heart.
Since I was fourteen, I’ve dreamed of him, wanted him, and never thought there’d ever be a chance for this.
He leans forward, resting our foreheads together. “It never makes sense.”
“What doesn’t?” I whisper, not wanting to break this connection.
“That I can’t have you.”
I suck in a breath, tension rolling through me and settling in my belly.
Instead of pulling away, like I normally would, I shift forward so he has no choice but to look at me. When his dark-brown eyes open, I see the longing there.
I lift my hand and cup his jaw. He doesn’t move, allowing me to touch him in a way I’ve imagined a million times. I think . . . I think he wants to kiss me, and heaven knows I want to kiss him.
“You have me now.”
I inch up on my toes, not letting my mind do the talking this time, allowing my heart to lead, and press my lips to his.
He moves quickly, lifting me in his arms. My legs wrap around his waist, and then the cold stones are against my back. He’s kissing me, his tongue delving into my mouth, and heat floods my veins.
Lachlan grips the skin at my waist, his body pushing me into the wall. We kiss and kiss, and gone are the nerves, now replaced with bliss.
He’s kissing me.
I keep saying it in my head because it doesn’t feel real or possible.
The whiskey taste on his tongue mixed with his cologne is an aphrodisiac that I could get drunk on.
Lachlan West is kissing me.
He moans, and I let his silky strands slide through my fingers like sand. Every sensation I commit to memory. The way he smells, the oak, tobacco, and chocolate scent that is all him. The feel of his calluses against my skin, slightly scratchy but absolutely perfect.
“Lachlan,” I sigh.
He groans and kisses me quiet again.
I don’t know how long this goes for, but I hope it never ends.
“Fuck, Ainsley.” His hand moves to my stomach, then lower. Everything inside me clenches in anticipation, and then, without warning, he pulls back.
His eyes seem to focus, and it’s as though he sees it’s me.
My legs fall from his waist, hitting the ground with a slap, and he takes two large steps back.
“What am I doing?” he asks, running his hands through his hair.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. What happened? We were having this amazing kiss, and now he looks as though he wants to throw himself in his mother’s fountain.
“We can’t do this. You . . . I’m . . . Jesus, I’m sorry. I’m drunk and we . . . I’m such a fucking asshole.”
He turns his back to me, grabs the bottle on the ground, takes a large sip, and spits it out. Like he can wash the taste of me from his mouth.
I’m standing here now, feeling the tingle of my lips, the smell of him embedded in my nose, and I would love for nothing more than to not see that look on his face.
“Lachlan, I’m sorry.”
That causes him to snap his gaze to me. “For what? You didn’t do anything.”
“I kissed you.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m drunk.”
“I know.”
“I never should’ve kissed you,” he says, still not looking at me.
And I never should’ve come out here. I’m so stupid. I thought he wanted me, that he felt something, but he was just drunk.
God, I can never look at him again. I’ve ruined everything.
“It’s my fault.” I choke the words out, fighting back tears of embarrassment and self-loathing.
“No, it’s . . .” He looks up to the sky. “Fuck!”
I stand here, my feet feeling as though they’ve been cemented to the ground. I want to run. To hide in my room and close the blinds so I never have to see this garden again.
“I should go.”
I wasn’t planning to go back to NYU for another three days. My parents asked me to stay and attend a ceremony for the Admiral, but there’s not a chance in hell I’m staying in this town another minute. My father will have to forgive me.
“That never should’ve . . .”
I lift my hand. “Please give Rose a hug and tell her I said goodbye.”
I turn to leave, knowing those tears aren’t going to stay away for another second.
As soon as I open the door, he calls my name.
I don’t turn. I can’t. Already my vision is blurry, and I won’t let him see me that way.
He speaks to my back this time. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow. When I’m sober.”
There won’t be a chance to do that, because I won’t be here. I kissed him, he rejected me, and now I can never go back to the way things were.
“Goodbye, Lachlan.”
Then I close the door and leave my heart in the garden with the boy who it has always belonged to.
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