4. Sunday

FOUR

Sunshine -

One day, I hope to earn the right to talk to you about what happened that night. Just know it wasn't you. Not ever. I know you won't take my help, but I'm here if you need anything, even just a person to talk to. My number is below, in case you deleted it.

-Charming

PS - Yes, I'm still going to call you sunshine. Don't like it? Guess you'll have to tell me to stop.

PSS - I like charming.

Ifeel myself biting my bottom lip to stop my smile before rolling my eyes and groaning in disgust. What's wrong with me? I mean, I know what's wrong with me. I haven't gotten laid in months, and if I'm honest with myself, I'm still very much stuck on that stupid date, and the man Ash was then. But I need to stop. Ash isn't the man I remember. Hell, maybe he never was that man. He ran out and then spent the last couple of years acting like he didn't remember me. Like he didn't even know me. Just because he left me this note last week doesn't mean I should be changing my view of him.

He's so cute though…

I mentally whine as I sit in the passenger seat of the moving truck. I swear, if the mover looks me over one more time, I'm going to beat his ass. And there it is: his beady eyes land on my exposed thighs, and I see the slightest hint of the tip of his nasty tongue.

"If you find any enjoyment in having that tongue attached to you," I say casually while staring at my phone. "It might be in your best interest to keep it in your mouth and keep your eyes on the road." I see the man shift uncomfortably, but he chooses to heed my warning.

The damsel in distress act has never been my thing. Maybe if I had grown up differently, in a home with loving, more attentive parents, I would've felt able to allow myself to feel… vulnerable.

Ugh. Even the word makes me ill. The very idea of it sends a chill down my spine. Why would a person want to feel weak? Want to rely on another person? The thought of giving up power or control, yeah, never again. I made that mistake once. The last time I opened myself up to that, I was thirteen. Thirteen fucking years old, and the then twenty-seven-year-old blond-haired deputy sheriff took advantage of me. More than advantage… I got caught shoplifting one of those premade sandwiches at the local gas station in my hometown, and the owner called the cops. Ridiculous, I was a kid. It was less than two dollars, and everyone in my town knew my family had no money. But no mercy was shown to me, and when I tried to explain the situation to the cop, he gave me two options: jail or him in the back of the cruiser.

I went home and tried to confide in the two people I thought would protect me. They were so angry. They blamed me and told me that if I didn't keep my mouth shut, I would ruin a ‘good man's career.' And then I became pregnant and was kicked out of the trailer shortly after Wade's first birthday and moved into the back room at the local bar, where I was paid under the table as a loader until I was able to save enough to get Wade and me a bus ticket to New York City where I had a spot waiting for me to train with the ballet. I grabbed that opportunity and never looked back. He and I haven't been back to Alabama since. Now, though, it's the only place we'll have to go after I sell the studio. I can't afford it out here with just the studio, not when I have all this debt to pay off.

When the mover parks the truck, I waste no time hopping out and looking at the overly modern building. Multiple floors of beige tones and sharp corners with glass balconies. All of which I find completely impractical. I hate apartments, but it's one of the few places I found in my budget in Wade's school district. No one would take me, even with Janie as a co-signer. So, we had to get creative and even though this seems reckless, I agreed because I have no other choice.

Walking inside, I'm greeted by my property manager. She's cute with her purple-tipped black hair and olive skin. She"s a little more extroverted than I prefer, but it's not like I'll see her often. I take my key cards and head to the elevator to beat the moving crew to the apartment on the third floor.

"Oh, Mrs. Simmons!" She calls as she runs to the elevator; I cringe at the name.

"I'm still Sutton," I say softly. "I never changed my name."

"Right, my apologies. Well, your husband, Fox, mentioned you have an exotic pet coming to stay, right?" Yep, Fox found the apartment for me, filled everything out, and told me where to move. I was equally grateful and humiliated when I discovered what Janie and Fox did for me. I hate feeling like a charity case.

"Yes," I confirm while leaning on the elevator door to stop it from closing and signaling to the girl that I really don't have the time for a conversation. "I do have an… exotic bird." Never did I think I"d be referring to the bitch, Alice Cooper as an exotic bird, but here we are.

"Okay, well, I just want to confirm that the rooster wouldn't be, um, crowing? If we receive noise com–"

I cut her off while walking into the elevator. "Alice is a hen, not a rooster. I've heard her crow, maybe once, and it isn't loud. Anything else?" The girl smiles apologetically before stepping back, and I hit the button to my floor.

Walking off the elevator, I hear a light feminine voice curse and notice it's my neighbor across the hall. She and I share the end of this floor. Our apartments are in an L shape, meeting together at the end. She's a tiny thing with wild black curls and fair skin. She's juggling grocery bags, and I spot her keycard on the ground. Heading toward her, I pick up her card and hand it to her. "Need some help?" I ask, motioning to the bags.

"Thanks," she smiles appreciatively as she hands me a bag and swipes her card. "If I set them down, I won't be able to pick them up, and my stupid brother isn't answering his phone or my knocks," she grumbles as she opens the door.

"No worries, I'm moving in across the hall," I say as I point to the door directly across from her before she motions for me to walk into her apartment. I'm about to step in when something—no, someonestops me. A wet, shirtless, towel-clad someone.

"Sunday?" Ash says in shock as he walks over to me. The girl"s head whips to me, her bright blue eyes wide.

"Wait, you're Sunday Sutton?"

Fucking shit… I'm living next door to Ash Johnson and his sister.

A low groanescapes my lips as I sink into the plush cushions of my couch. My hands instinctively reaching for my aching knee, gently rubbing the soreness away. I still can"t believe I tripped over that fucking chicken the other day. After everything I've done for Alice, she tries to take me out every chance she gets. I should revoke her exotic pet status.

The tapping on my open front door grabs my attention, and I see Ash leaning in the doorway, grinning ear to ear.

"Howdy, neighbor." He beams, and I groan again. Of all the apartment buildings in this city, I end up renting a place next door to Ash fucking Johnson. I'm going to kill Fox. Why would he do this to me? "You know, sunshine, I kind of feel like this is destiny. Like the red string of fate."

Rolling my eyes, I stare at him, hoping my annoyance shines through. But he seems unfazed as he strolls into my living room, completely uninvited.

"If I ask, will you kindly leave my apartment?"

A wide, confident smile stretches across his sharp features, highlighting the perfect symmetry of his face. It"s almost unfair how effortlessly handsome he looks, with his chiseled jawline and piercing eyes that seem to hold a million secrets. Every move he makes seems calculated and smooth, adding to the air of charm and allure that surrounds him. It"s fucking annoying.

"We both know if you really wanted me to leave, you'd be hurling shit at my head." Eyeing the remote sitting on the couch, I think about it for a second before moving past it.

"Alright, charming, what's the red string of fate?" I ask out of sheer morbid curiosity. Ash's dark eyes twinkle, and happiness washes over his strong, angular features as he sits on the chair across from my couch. I hate how good I feel knowing I pulled that emotion from him.

"The legend is there's this invisible red thread that connects one person to the other person they're supposed to meet, like our soulmates. The string's supposed to symbolize that no matter how far apart we are, we'll always find each other."

I give him my best dry, deadpan stare. "So, now we're soulmates?" Ash shrugs, his grin still firmly planted on his smug face.

"Just saying, this is kind of one of those moments."

"We're going from you pretending you don't know me to us having a connected string?"

He chuckles lightly, "Sunshine, I don't control fate." His overly confident voice is annoying.

I look at my hands. "Hm, no string."

"It's invisible, sunshine." He sighs.

"If it's invisible, how do you know it's red?" I raise a brow, and his face drops.

"Well…" I watch the wheels spinning, and I can't help but chuckle.

"Exactly. Now, if you don't mind, I gotta ice my knee before going to get my son. Go on, get before I chuck the remote at you." Grunting, I go to stand, but Ash stops me.

"I'll grab you some ice. Also, your knee needs to be elevated higher to help with the swelling. You laying it straight out like that will only hyperextend it and won't help swelling or inflammation." I raise a skeptical brow, and he shrugs. "What? I know things. I used to be a paramedic." He goes to the kitchen and returns a moment later with some ice in a dishtowel. Ash tries to place the towel on my leg, but I snatch it from him and do it myself.

"A paramedic, huh?" I hiss as the ice presses against my sensitive flesh.

"What?" He chuckles. "Do I not look the part?" I shrug nonchalantly.

"Honestly? Not really. You're all about self-image. I can't imagine you doing a job where you wear a uniform instead of a designer shirt." He scoffs as he sits on the arm of the couch.

"I am not all about image." He almost sounds genuinely offended by my words. I glance up, looking him over.

"Ash, you're a label-whore," I chuckle dryly. "I mean, go for it. It's your money, but paramedics aren't known for their salaries, so yeah, it's hard for me to believe you ever did a job that would have caused you to have to budget." The smile he's had on his face since he got here disappears as his lips form a tight line and his clean-shaven jaw flexes.

"I didn't always have things like this," he mutters, standing up. "I gotta go. If you need help moving in, just ask. I left my number on the counter since you probably threw the note away. Put a couple of pillows under—never mind." Shaking his head, he turns, and my gut twists.

"Ash," I go to apologize, but he walks out of the apartment, shutting the door behind him with a little more force than necessary, and I cringe. I sit in silence, chewing on my bottom lip as I feel guilt creeping up on me. Maybe ‘label-whore' wasn't the best term. Though it's undoubtedly better than: "And what's your name?"

I grumble to no one as I stand from the couch and grab my phone to text my girlfriends, but first…

Me: Ash Johnson's apartment building? REALLY Fox?!

It doesn't take long before I get a response.

Fox: Oh no… that's his apartment building. I am SO sorry Sunday. I must've forgotten. The mind starts slipping after 40, you know.

Me: I have done nothing to you to deserve this.

Fox: Luca

Fucking dick. Back when Janie and Fox were still in the will-they-won't-they of their relationship, I might've suggested that Janie take my escort friend, Luca, to a party to make Fox jealous.

Me: Way to hold a grudge. And you and Janie ended up fucking at that party, so really, a thank you is in order.

Fox: I am thanking you. I got you a killer apartment in Wade's school district that"s accepting of Alice, and you"ll have the quietest neighbors.

Me: This isn't over, Simmons.

Fox: Yeah, yeah, I live with Torch. Your threats don't scare me.

Sighing, I switch over to the group chat with my girls.

Me: I moved into the apartment next door to fucking Ash. Thank you very much, Fox.

Janie: Okay, rude he didn't tell me that, he and I will be having a talk tonight.

Janie: But also….Yesssssss *fire emoji*

Me: Yes? Yes What?!

Ren: OMG the forced proximity trope! It's got the best heat!

Me: Ren… you've been narrating romance books too long. Put down the smut.

Ren: I'm going to pretend you didn't say that.

Stevie: Okay, I'll be the normal one. Sunday, how does that make you feel?

Me: THANK YOU, STEVIE!

Me: It pisses me off. If I had known he lived here, I would've looked somewhere else.

Me: But then I tried talking to him and I don't know, it got weird

Janie: We like weird.

Ren: We LOVE weird.

Me: NOT THAT KIND OF WEIRD. Jesus, how is it that the two women with dicks on demand are the horniest of our group?

Janie: I can't say anything on Ren and Atlas but, Fox is a fucking freak, and you can't just get one hit of that.

Janie: You get a taste, and you want it ALL. THE. TIME.

Janie: We did it on the beach the other night and while it's not as comfortable as you might think, that ocean air hitting your naked body–all hot and slick…

"Oh my god, Janie. Really?" I groan, shaking my head.

Me: Are you two just without a bedroom now? What is it with y'all and the outdoor fucking?

Janie: Winston looks at me weirdly after the act. I've even tried putting him in his room with the TV on, and he still knows what's happening.

Ren: Janie, babe no *crying laughing emoji*

Stevie: Nope, dead… this isn't real life.

Me: You fuck in public so that your CAT won't know you're fucking?

Janie: Noooo, so my SON doesn't witness his father attacking his mother, or hear it and mistake our cries of ecstasy as distress. I can't be quiet. Fox is massive in EVERY sense of the word.

Me: I am SO happy I texted y'all to talk about MY problem just so we can ONCE AGAIN hear how weird Janie is.

Janie: rude

Ren: Okay, what is the problem?

Me: He told me he used to be a paramedic. I told him he didn't seem like the type. He asked why, so I called him a label whore, and then he looked like I smacked his ice cream cone on the ground and walked out.

Janie: You monster *eye roll* what a ruthless, cold-hearted thing to say.

Stevie: LMAO, no way that hurt his feelings. Girl, the man lives to show off his designer stuff.

Ren: Oh, I know. For my birthday, Atlas had to explain to him why I didn't want a designer handbag and that I WANTED a generic backpack. I wonder why he is so insistent on it.

Me: Dunno. I don't really remember him wearing all the expensive clothes a couple of years ago. Anyway, he"s pissed off at me for that, and I'm pissed off at him for living next door. Janie, will you be able to pick Alice up from Derek's?

Janie: Yep, I'm headed there now. Why don't you just relax, and I'll get Alice and pick up Wade and bring them to you, so you don't have to ride the bus or get an Uber.

Me: I would appreciate it. Love you.