19. Ally

Chapter 19

Ally

I woke up in the morning, tangled in my sheets and in Tom. His arm was draped over my waist, a heavy but comforting weight. I felt the warmth of his breath on the back of my neck. For a moment, I just lay there, eyes closed, wanting to remember this, how it felt to be held so securely.

The sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. I could hear the distant hum of the town waking up outside, but inside this room, everything was still. Tom’s chest rose and fell against my back, each breath steady and calming. I tried to memorize the rhythm, the way his presence made me feel less alone.

I shifted slightly, careful not to wake him. My hand brushed against his, and I intertwined our fingers. It was such a simple gesture, but felt monumental in its intimacy. I wanted to stay like this forever, suspended in this moment where nothing else mattered.

His grip tightened slightly as he stirred. I turned my head just enough to see his face. His eyes were still closed, but there was a faint smile playing on his lips. Even in sleep, he seemed content. It was a stark contrast to the tension that usually lined his features.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes again, letting myself sink into the feeling of being close to him. The world outside could wait.

Eventually, Tom’s breathing changed, becoming more alert. His fingers gently squeezed mine before he shifted behind me.

“Morning,” he murmured against my ear.

“Morning,” I replied softly, turning to face him.

His eyes opened slowly, meeting mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. He didn’t say anything for a moment; instead, he just looked at me like he was trying to capture this memory, too.

“Sleep well?” he asked finally.

I nodded, not trusting my voice to convey what I felt.

He brushed a strand of hair away from my face and kissed my forehead. “Good.”

I nestled closer into him, feeling his heartbeat against mine. For now, everything else could wait—this was where I wanted to be.

My face stung slightly, but I ignored it. The light from the window felt too bright, too intrusive for this moment. I shifted away from Tom’s embrace, trying to gather my thoughts.

"Go back to bed," I murmured, sitting up. "I need to get ready for work."

I leaned over and kissed his cheek. He groaned, a sound that was both endearing and exasperated.

"I’d rather go back to bed with you," he mumbled, even as his eyes closed again.

I laughed softly, the sound a rare but welcome release of tension. Standing up, I stretched, feeling the pull of muscles still sore from our time together. His shirt lay crumpled on the floor, and I grabbed it, slipping it over my head before heading to the tiny bathroom attached to my bedroom.

The mirror greeted me with a reflection that seemed both foreign and familiar. My hair was a mess of auburn tangles, and there were faint shadows under my eyes. A bruise marred my cheek, thanks to Nick. I knew I'd have to cover that up before Tom saw it. He'd be furious—with Nick, and with me for not telling him about it. But there was something else there too—a glimmer of contentment that had been missing for far too long.

I turned on the faucet, letting the water run cold before splashing it on my face. The sting faded slightly as the water hit my skin. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the day ahead.

As I brushed my teeth, I could hear Tom shifting in bed behind me. I smiled. As dangerous as it was, I could get used to this.

I stepped into the shower, letting the water cascade over me. The hot stream felt like a welcome balm against the lingering soreness in my muscles. I tilted my head back, closing my eyes as the water soaked my hair, turning it into a heavy curtain that clung to my back. For a moment, I just stood there, letting the steam envelop me and wash away the remnants of sleep.

The shower had always been my sanctuary, a place where I could let my guard down, even if just for a few minutes. As I lathered shampoo into my hair, the familiar scent of lavender filled the small space, grounding me in the present. Each motion felt deliberate, almost ritualistic—an act of self-care that I often neglected.

Rinsing out the shampoo, I watched as the suds swirled down the drain, disappearing like so many of my unresolved emotions. It was strangely therapeutic, seeing something so tangible be washed away. If only it were that easy to cleanse myself of everything else—the grief, the guilt, the complicated feelings for Tom.

I reached for the body wash next, squeezing a generous amount into my palm. The creamy texture felt luxurious against my skin as I worked it into a lather. The scent mingled with the lavender from my shampoo, and then conditioner. As I scrubbed my arms and legs, I focused on the sensation—the slight roughness of my loofah against my skin and how it contrasted with the silky smoothness of the soap.

My thoughts drifted to Tom lying in bed just a few feet away. It felt surreal to have him here after everything that had happened between us. Yet, his presence was also a comfort, a reminder that not everything was lost. That maybe we could rebuild what we had… what we might have had…

I turned around and let the water rinse away the soap, feeling cleaner but not quite lighter. The heat had turned my skin pink and softened some of the edges of my tension, but hadn't erased them entirely.

Finally, I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Grabbing a towel from the rack, I wrapped it around myself and took another deep breath. For now, at least, I felt more ready to face whatever came next.

I finished up in the bathroom, ducking my head so hair fell in my face and hid my cheek. I returned to the bedroom to find Tom half-awake, watching me with those intense eyes that always seemed to see right through me.

"Don’t you have practice or something?" I teased, pulling on a pair of jeans.

He grinned lazily. "Practice can wait."

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling back. "You’re impossible."

"And you love it," he replied without missing a beat.

Maybe he was right. Maybe amidst all the chaos and unresolved emotions, there was something here worth holding onto. But for now, I had to focus on getting through the day.

"See you later?" he asked as I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.

"Yeah," I said softly. "See you later."

With that, I left the apartment, ready to face whatever came next—one moment at a time.

Driving through town, I couldn’t shake the image of Janet from my mind. Her smug face, the way she’d leaned in as if her words were precious secrets meant only for me. The threats, the demands—they replayed in my head like a broken record.

My grip tightened on the steering wheel as I navigated the familiar streets. The studio wasn’t far, but each red light felt like an eternity, giving me too much time to stew in my frustration. The morning sun cast long shadows over the pavement, highlighting every crack and imperfection. It mirrored how I felt—fractured and raw.

I thought back to her exact words, how she’d twisted the knife about my loss, something so deeply personal and painful. It wasn’t just about money for her; it was about power, control. She was getting back at me. My chest tightened at the thought of her using something so intimate against me.

How could I have ever let it come to this? I’d kept so much hidden, thinking it would protect me, but now it felt like those secrets were ammunition for someone like Janet. Each turn of the wheel brought a new wave of anger and helplessness.

What was I supposed to do? Giving in to her demands wasn’t an option—I couldn’t let her win. But ignoring her threats seemed equally dangerous. The studio came into view, and I smiled. I loved it here, loved my job, even through the hard parts.

Parking the car, I sat for a moment, letting the engine idle as I tried to collect myself. The familiar hum of the motor did little to soothe my nerves. I needed a plan, something concrete that could keep Janet at bay without unraveling everything else in my life.

With a deep breath, I killed the engine and stepped out of the car. The cool air hit my face, nice and refreshing. Each step toward the studio door felt heavy, burdened by more than just Janet’s threats—it was everything.

Pushing open the door to the studio, I forced myself to focus on the present task at hand. Clients needed their photos; projects needed completing. Maybe if I threw myself into work, even for a little while, I could find some clarity—or at least some temporary peace.

The familiar scent of developing chemicals hit me as I entered, grounding me momentarily in routine. Yet behind every click of a shutter or flash of light was Janet’s voice echoing in my mind. And with each passing minute, the weight of what lay ahead grew heavier.

But for now—for these next few hours—I had work to do.

Carl was hunched over his desk, a mountain of paperwork in front of him. I approached, trying to push the morning's turmoil aside.

"Hey," I said, hoping my voice sounded steadier than I felt.

Carl looked up and did a double-take. "What are you doing here?"

"You scheduled me for today," I replied, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh, shit," he murmured. "You haven't checked your texts, have you?"

"My phone's been dead since yesterday," I said. "Why?"

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Ally, I'm sorry, but you're fired."

"Wait, what?" My stomach dropped. This had to be some kind of joke.

"You're fired," he repeated, avoiding my gaze.

"Why?" The word felt like a punch to the gut as it left my lips.

Carl fumbled with his papers, eyes darting everywhere but at me. "Uh... well... it's... budget cuts."

"Budget cuts?" I echoed, disbelief coloring my tone. "You can’t be serious."

"It's not personal," he stammered. "It's just... we have to make some changes."

I stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. "Carl, come on. We both know that’s bullshit. What’s really going on?"

His face flushed red as he struggled for words. "It's... look, it's just... complicated."

"Complicated?" I snapped. "Or convenient? Did someone get to you? Was it Nick or Janet?"

Carl’s eyes widened slightly before he quickly looked away again. The hesitation was all the confirmation I needed.

"This is because of them, isn’t it?" My voice wavered with a mix of anger and betrayal.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Ally..."

I cut him off. "Save it. Just be honest with me for once."

Carl finally met my gaze, but didn’t say anything more. His silence spoke volumes.

"Unbelievable," I muttered under my breath before turning on my heel and walking out of the studio. "We both know I'm the best photographer this studio ever had. You're going to regret this, you know. I can't believe you would listen to him. What did he get you? Huh? Can you tell me that much?"

Carl muttered something as I stormed toward the door. "The studio gets to do the official NHL photos."

I stopped in my tracks, spinning around to face him. "You seriously think Nick can pull that off?" My voice dripped with incredulity. "He's a young kid with maybe twenty points all season. His team didn’t even make the playoffs. You're delusional, Carl. That won't happen."

He didn’t respond, just looked down at his papers again, pretending to be engrossed in something other than the mess he’d just created. Shaking my head, I turned back and walked out of the studio; the door closing behind me with a finality that felt like a slap.

My hands trembled as I fumbled for my keys. Anger bubbled up inside me. How could Carl do this? How could he let Nick and Janet manipulate him? The injustice of it all made my blood boil.

Once in my car, I slammed the door shut and took a moment to steady my breathing. It didn’t help much. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing the anger coursing through my veins.

I had no idea what to do next. My job had been my lifeline, the one thing grounding me amidst all the chaos. And now that was gone, too.

There was only one place I could go where I might find some semblance of peace: home.

I started the car and drove, the familiar streets blurring as hot tears threatened to spill over. The weight of everything pressed down on me, and now this.

By the time I reached home, my body felt heavy with exhaustion. I parked and walked up to my apartment, each step feeling like it took monumental effort.

I slipped into my apartment quietly, careful not to make a sound. The door creaked slightly as I closed it behind me, and I winced, holding my breath. Tom was still asleep in the bedroom, and the last thing I wanted was to wake him.

As I walked into the room, my eyes fell on him sprawled across the bed. He looked so peaceful, so different from the intense man I knew. His dark hair was tousled, and his chiseled features were softened in sleep. The rugged handsomeness always took my breath away—strong jawline, broad shoulders—was still there, but muted by the morning light.

I paused at the foot of the bed, taking in the sight of him. His chest rose and fell with each deep breath, the covers tangled around his legs. Even in sleep, he exuded a quiet strength that drew me in.

A part of me wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed beside him and feel his arms around me. To find solace in his embrace, even if just for a moment. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Not now. Not with everything weighing so heavily on my mind.

Instead, I tiptoed around the room, grabbing a few things from my dresser as silently as possible. My heart ached with the need for comfort, but I knew waking him would only bring questions I wasn't ready to answer.

With one last glance at Tom, I turned and slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind me. There were things I needed to figure out, and for now, I'd have to do it alone.

I leaned against the door after closing it behind me, letting out a shaky breath. The silence of the house enveloped me, echoing in my head.

I sank onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. The tears finally came then—silent and relentless—each one a small release of the overwhelming emotions inside me.

What was I supposed to do now? The question echoed in my mind as I sat there, feeling lost and adrift in a sea of uncertainty. This was my dream, and now…

Now what?