Chapter 19

CHAPTERNINETEEN

Ashlyn sighed in relief when she closed the door of the Uber she’d called to pick her up from the bar. It was Jack’s birthday, another full-time employee who worked at Food For All, and a group of people had gotten together to celebrate at Arnold’s.

Natalie, the manager of the downtown location, had texted, asking Ashlyn if she would come. She didn’t want to. Had wanted to wallow in her misery all alone. But she’d forced herself to shower, change, and leave the apartment. Sitting around waiting for Slate to call wasn’t on the top of her list of fun things to do. In fact, it was torture.

Mustang had called, as had some of the others, but she didn’t feel strong enough yet to endure the pity in their voices while they tried to explain why Slate hadn’t wanted her help when he wasn’t feeling well. She didn’t know exactly what had happened on his mission—not that she’d given anyone a chance to explain—but Slate telling her in no uncertain terms that his friends would be there for him, instead of asking her to come over, repeated in her head like a broken record.

She’d waited all day Saturday for his call, with no luck, and with every hour that passed, she got more and more depressed. It sucked to be head over heels in love with a man, then have it made very clear that he didn’t feel the same. But she’d be okay. She always was.

The first step was staying busy and not moping around her apartment. So she’d told Natalie she’d be there. Not sure if she was going to drink anything or not, she’d called for an Uber. The afternoon had been fun…as fun as it could be when she was so damn heartbroken…but now Ashlyn was more than ready to go home.

Admittedly, she’d been relieved to finally hear from Slate. She didn’t hate him. Could never hate him. And despite everything, she’d been crazy worried. So getting that first text made the stress and worry dissipate a bit.

He claimed he didn’t remember calling her, and she supposed that could be the case. But he’d gotten home Friday. And it was now Sunday. Knowing he’d been home for almost two days, and he hadn’t reached out to her, was a reminder of where she stood in his life.

She’d forgotten he had the tracking app until his third message. If she was a different kind of person, she would’ve ignored that text too, but she had a feeling he really would march his ass down to Arnold’s to see if she was there, and the last thing she wanted was a confrontation in a public place.

Ashlyn wanted to see him. To see for herself that he was all right. Only after knowing for certain that he was truly uninjured would she explain that she thought it’d be better if they were just friends. It would hurt…absolutely kill…but she had to do it.

So she’d replied to his text. Reassuring him that she was fine. She’d planned to leave it at that, but Stupid Ashlyn couldn’t not ask how he was feeling.

Instead of responding to her question, he’d asked what she was doing at Arnold’s. She should’ve said she was at a work thing, but she’d been vague…it was too hard to type with tears in her eyes. He hadn’t replied back. Which was another blow. But whatever. She was steeling herself to move on.

Ashlyn hadn’t realized how lost in her head she’d been until the driver said, “Here you go. Have a nice rest of the day.”

Opening her eyes, Ashlyn saw that they were in the parking lot of her apartment complex. She thanked the woman and climbed out of the back seat. She slowly entered her building and walked up the stairs. She was digging in her purse for her key when something caught her eye.

Looking up, she paused halfway down the hall and stared at a frowning Slate, standing with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against her door.

Ashlyn drank in the sight of him. He looked good. A few scratches on his face. A little pale, but in one piece. The overwhelming relief swept through her so fast, it made her knees weak, and she had to put a hand on the wall to steady herself.

Slate pushed off her door and stalked toward her. He reached for her elbow, clasping it gently. “Are you drunk?” he asked.

Blinking in surprise, Ashlyn shook her head. “No.”

“Good. Because for the conversation we’re about to have, I need you to be stone-cold sober.”

“I didn’t have anything to drink.”

Slate jerked his chin down in a short nod and pulled on her arm, getting her to walk once more. Not protesting, and hating herself for how her stomach fluttered at his touch, Ashlyn walked next to him without a word. When they got to her door, she fumbled once more for her key. He took it from her as soon as she pulled it out of her purse and unlocked her door.

She dumped her purse on the small table in the foyer and walked into her apartment. She winced at the condition it was in. Dirty dishes piled in the sink, her trash needed to be taken out. She’d slept on her couch the last two nights, not wanting to go into her bedroom because it reminded her too much of Slate, and the blanket she’d used was on the floor. That, and her pillow on the end of the couch made it very clear she’d slept in her living room.

Used cups were on the coffee table, and she hadn’t bothered to pick up the many crumbled and used tissues on the end table and floor before she’d left for Arnold’s.

When she glanced at Slate, his gaze was locked on her, not on the shape of her apartment.

“You look tired,” he said gently.

Ashlyn shrugged. She wasn’t about to admit that she’d slept like shit, too busy worrying about him and crying her eyes out.

The stern look on Slate’s face faded away, and Ashlyn could’ve sworn she saw nervousness take its place.

“You look good. Glad you’re okay,” she told him.

“Me too. Although my head still feels kind of fuzzy. If what I just went through was even half of what you felt when you had that migraine, I don’t know how you got through it.”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” she told him.

“True. Can we talk?” he asked.

Ashlyn’s brows furrowed. “We are talking.”

“I mean…I need to apologize. Explain what happened.”

“It’s fine. I understand.”

“I don’t think you do,” he countered. “I need to go back to Wednesday and Thursday in Afghanistan. Explain what led up to me calling you Friday night.”

“I didn’t think you were allowed to talk about your missions,” Ashlyn said in confusion.

“I’m not.”

Her mind was spinning. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear details about what happened to him, because it would scare the shit out of her, but at the same time she was desperate for more information. “Okay.”

Slate gestured to the living room. “Can we sit? I hate to admit it, but I’m still really shaky.”

Ashlyn immediately nodded. God, she was a horrible person. While she hadn’t been ready to see Slate at her door, and she definitely wasn’t looking forward to breaking up with him, she didn’t want to cause him any pain.

He followed her into the living area, and she was glad he didn’t comment on the tissues and general disarray. She sat on one end of the couch, further relieved when Slate didn’t sit right next to her. He gave her space, sitting on the other end.

“Things went to shit right when we arrived in Afghanistan. The insurgents were targeting the base, and everyone was on edge. We headed out into the city a couple nights in, trying to track down the leader of a group of Taliban fighters. We got intel about where he lived and went to check it out. Long story short, he wasn’t there, but while we were inside his house, he, or one of his followers, shot an RPG at it, hoping to kill my entire team.”

Ashlyn gasped.

Slate continued. “But whoever it was, they were a shit shot, or maybe they weren’t prepared for the kickback of the weapon, because instead of hitting the building dead center, the shot went wide. The shitty construction of the house also probably saved me.

“I remember kind of trying to surf a bunch of bricks and boards as they slid under my feet…but that’s all. I was knocked unconscious. I woke up at the base. The guys had dug me out of the rubble and got me to the base clinic. I guessed I was super aggressive—I don’t really remember—and refused to stay there, and got really pissed when they suggested sending me to Germany. I don’t know how he did it, but Mustang talked the doctors into releasing me into his care, and we left to come home.

“I don’t remember calling you, babe,” Slate said quietly. “I don’t remember getting off the plane, into Mustang’s car, or to my house. I don’t remember anything but bits and pieces until around noon today, when I woke up a little more clear-headed. I just know I hurt you—and that kills me.”

Ashlyn stared at the man she loved more than anyone she’d ever dated…and shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Slate said firmly. “You should’ve been there.”

“And I would’ve,” Ashlyn said, hurt and anger rising a bit at his words. “But you made it clear that Mustang could take care of you just fine. It doesn’t really matter that you don’t remember saying it, Slate. It might actually mean more that you don’t.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just that maybe your subconscious was saying what you were truly thinking.”

Slate shook his head. “No, you’re wrong.”

“Am I?” Ashlyn asked with a tilt of her head. “I’m just the chick you’re having sex with,” she said, trying to keep the sadness from her tone. “Mustang’s the one who saved you. Who’s been with you through thick and thin. You knew deep down that he’d protect you while you couldn’t protect yourself. And you know him far better than you know me. It’s only natural you’d want his help instead of mine.”

“I know you,” Slate said firmly.

Ashlyn didn’t say anything.

“I do,” he insisted. “You’re the most generous person I’ve ever met in my life. And I’m not talking monetarily. Anyone can donate money and forget about it the next minute. You give yourself. To everyone who’s smart enough to recognize how valuable you are. You babysat Jazmin’s baby for two hours, giving her one of the first breaks she’d had in months. You praise Brooklyn when she’s at the end of her rope with her toddlers. You’ve encouraged and supported her dreams of going back to school, something she never thought she could do until you started delivering meals to her and her family. You care about whether a handicapped woman is getting enough sunshine in her life. Enough to encourage her to sit outside and laugh with you for twenty minutes every time you visit. And let’s not forget James. You’ve made that man feel less lonely, and like part of the world again. Not everyone would invite someone like him to their friend’s wedding. You give every bit of yourself to everyone you meet, Ashlyn, and you’ve made my life a hundred percent better.”

Ashlyn could only stare at him. She had no idea where he was going with this, but she couldn’t get one single word out in response.

“You’ve made me a better man simply by existing. I’m not as impatient as I used to be. If you don’t believe me, ask any one of my teammates. I laugh more. I’m actually taking an interest in the people around me, not just analyzing them to determine if they might be a threat. Hell, I got caught in the damn house for that very reason.

“There was a kid. Maybe seven or eight years old. He signaled to whoever had that RPG, letting them know that we were inside. Everyone ran like hell to get the fuck out of there because we all knew what was coming. But I couldn’t leave that boy. He hated me. Was willing to die if it meant killing my team…but just as I turned to run, my conscience made me hesitate. I turned back to grab him.

“It was what you would’ve done. I knew it. Deep in my soul, I knew you wouldn’t have left without trying to save that boy. Even as I was dragging him toward the stairs, I realized I wasn’t going to make it. You know what flashed through my mind then?”

“What?” Ashlyn whispered. She was crying now, but she couldn’t stop.

“I hoped the guys were clear. I wished the boy would stop clawing at my hand, trying to get me to let go. But more than anything else, I thought about you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, babe. You. I was pissed that you’d never know just how much I cared about you. That I’d never get to explain our casual dating thing is total bullshit. There’s nothing fucking casual about our relationship. Not for me.”

Ashlyn’s eyes widened. Was she hearing him wrong? Maybe she was so desperate for him to feel the same as her, she was hallucinating.

“I truly don’t remember calling you. In my defense, my brain had gotten knocked around pretty good inside my skull. It’s really not an excuse…but the first thing I wanted to do this morning, when I finally woke up and felt slightly normal, was talk to you. Then you told me you were on a date…”

Slate took a deep breath. “I fucking hate that I hurt you so badly that you went out with someone else—but I’m not giving up on you. On us. I’ll do whatever it takes to regain your trust. If you want to continue to see other people while we’re fixin’ what we had, I’ll deal with it. I won’t like it, but I’ll prove to you that I’m not only your friend, I’m the man who loves you. The man who will throw a temper tantrum in front of a military doctor like a three-year-old so he can get his way and come home to see the woman who owns his heart.”

Ashlyn felt as if she was going to pass out. Instead of admitting she loved him back, all she could think to say was, “I wasn’t on a date.”

“Babe, you were at a bar, and you said you were with a friend.”

“I was. But…it wasn’t with a guy. I mean, there were guys there, but it was a group thing. Today’s the birthday of one of the guys from Food For All. A bunch of us went out to help him celebrate.”

Slate sat up straighter. “You weren’t on a date?”

“No.”

His entire body slumped, and he closed his eyes and bowed his head.

“Slate?”

“Give me a second,” he whispered.

Ashlyn wasn’t sure what to do. A week ago, she would’ve climbed into his lap and reassured him the best way she knew how that he was the only man in her life…

And the moment she had that thought, Ashlyn wondered what was holding her back.

He’d apologized. He had a concussion. He didn’t even remember the last two days.

He said he loved her.

She was moving before she realized what she was doing. Walking the couple of steps it took to stand in front of him. Then she put her knees on either side of his thighs.

The second he felt the cushion give beneath him, Slate’s eyes popped open and his hands went to her hips. He held her steady as she scooted closer.

Ashlyn put her hands on his cheeks and met his gaze. She was scared to death, but this was too important to beat around the bush about. “You love me?” she whispered.

“Yes,” Slate said without hesitation.

“I love you too.”

He didn’t move for a nanosecond after the last word left her mouth. Then he let out a long breath, pulled her close, and buried his nose in the space between her shoulder and neck.

“Fuck me,” he whispered.

Ashlyn was crying…again…but she smiled.

“Fuck!” Slate repeated.

“Not sure you’re up to that yet,” Ashlyn teased.

His head moved back, and she saw his eyes were shiny with tears. “Say it again,” he ordered.

“I love you. Have for a while now but I was too chicken to admit it, even to myself. When I heard you were hurt…I’ve never been so scared. Then you said you didn’t want to see me, that Mustang could look after you, and all that fear morphed into agony. I couldn’t even talk to our friends because it just hurt too much.”

“I’m so damn sorry,” Slate said softly.

Ashlyn shook her head. “I didn’t say that to make you feel bad or to get you to apologize again or anything. We’re moving on from that. I messed up too. I should’ve ignored you and gone to your house anyway. I should’ve listened to what our friends had to say. I should’ve admitted long before now that I wanted so much more than a friends-with-benefits thing. I was too scared that was the only way I could have you.”

“If there’s ever a next time,” Slate said, “I don’t give a shit what I say, you get your ass to my side. Okay?”

Ashlyn swallowed down the fear that spiked through her at the thought of him getting hurt in the future. But she wasn’t an idiot. Her man was a SEAL. His job was dangerous. She just had to hope and pray that his team would have his back and the bad guys wouldn’t get lucky a second time. “Okay.”

His hands framed her face. “You weren’t out with someone else.” It wasn’t a question.

“No. You’re the only man I’ve been remotely interested in for more than a year. I’ve had a crush on you forever.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know if I can claim the same…but I know I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Worrying about you. Needling you so you’d go off on me.”

Ashlyn rolled her eyes even as Slate wiped the lingering wetness from her cheeks with his thumbs. “So you acted like a grade-school kid picking on the girl he likes because he didn’t know how else to get her attention.”

“Pretty much,” Slate agreed. Then he slowly leaned toward her.

His kiss was light, almost hesitant. As if it was the first they’d ever shared. And in many ways, it was. The first of their new, serious, very committed relationship.

When he pulled back, Slate rested his forehead against hers.

“How in the world are we gonna tell everyone, after all these months of insisting that we’re nothing but casual, that all of a sudden we love each other and we’re in a serious relationship?” she mumbled.

In response, Slate moved a hand to her hip to hold her steady, then leaned enough to reach into his back pocket with the other. He brought out his phone, using both hands to type something.

“Slate? What are you doing?”

“Give me a second.”

“Seriously, Slate, what—”

“There. It’s done. Everyone knows, so no more worrying about it.”

“What’s done? What did you do?”

He turned his phone around, and Ashlyn stared at the group text he’d just sent.

Slate: Ash and I are in love. We’re gonna get married someday in the hopefully not-too-distant future. The first person who says “I knew it” or “I told you so” isn’t gonna be invited to the wedding.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe you just sent that. Who did you send it to?” Ashlyn asked, torn between being mortified and laughing hysterical.

“Everyone.”

“You did not!”

“Yup.”

Just then, his phone started vibrating in his hand as people responded to the message. Not only that, but Ashlyn could hear her own phone, still in her purse by the door, dinging with notifications.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you love me anyway.”

She smiled. “I do.”

His facial expression turned serious. “I’ll do my best to never hurt you like that again, babe. But if I do, don’t just take it. You give as good as you get. Always. I can’t deal with the thought of you sleeping on your couch, crying your eyes out over something I did or said, ever again.”

Figures he didn’t miss that was exactly what she’d been doing for the last two days. “I will.”

“I mean it. I’ll always get my head out of my ass, but you calling me on my shit will help that happen sooner.”

“Okay.”

“Now that we’re good—we are good, right?”

“We’re good, Slate.”

He nodded. “Okay. Now that we’re good, I’m thinking I need to lie down for a while.”

Ashlyn frowned in alarm. “Why? Does your head hurt? Should I call a doctor? Maybe Mustang should come over. Since he’s been looking after you, he’ll know if you need to go to the hospital, right?”

“Shhhh. I’m all right. I’m just tired. And my head still hurts a bit. But nothing like before.”

“Are you sure? You’re not just telling me that so I don’t freak out?”

“I’m sure.”

Ashlyn breathed out a sigh of relief. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Before I came over here. Aleck made me eat eggs and a shake.”

“How about you go lie down and I make you something for dinner. Maybe some lasagna? I’ll put lots of meat in it for more protein. And the carbs will probably do you good.”

“How about I lie here while you cook?” he countered.

“Okay. That’s better. I can keep an eye on you,” Ashlyn agreed. Then said sheepishly, “And there’s already a blanket and pillow out here anyway.”

Slate frowned. “Hate that I hurt you, babe.”

“It’s okay. Done and over with. We’re moving on. I mean, apparently we’re getting married at some point, even though I don’t remember you asking, or me saying yes.”

Slate grinned and leaned forward and kissed her deeply. “I know when I’ve found something good, and you, babe, are the best fucking thing to ever happen to me. We’re getting married. Maybe not tomorrow, or next month, but it’s gonna happen.”

“You that sure we’ll work out? That we won’t get tired of each other?”

“I’m that sure,” he said without a shred of doubt in his voice. “I didn’t live through that RPG attack to continue being a dumbass.”

Ashlyn couldn’t help but smile, even though she still hated to even think about what he’d been through. Then something else hit her. “Do you think he’s okay?”

Proving they were on the same wavelength, Slate didn’t have to ask who she was talking about. “I don’t know. My gut says no, but my heart hopes that since I survived, maybe he did too. Maybe his parents came and dug him out after we left. The guys didn’t find him while they were searching for me.”

“It’s all so sad,” Ashlyn said.

“It is. Kids are innocent. I hate that someone twisted his little mind into harboring such hate so early in his life.”

Ashlyn leaned forward and rested her body weight against Slate. His arms went around her and they sat like that for a few minutes.

“Food,” she said, eventually sitting back with a sigh. When she looked into Slate’s face, she could see the way he furrowed his brow as if his head was hurting. She climbed off him, leaned down, kissed him briefly, picked up the blanket that was still on the floor and pointed at the pillow. “Lie down.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And to think you could’ve had this excellent bedside service for the last couple of days,” she joked as she spread the blanket over him when he settled on his back.

“Yeah.”

Except he didn’t sound as if he found her words funny.

“I was joking,” she said.

“I wasn’t. I made you cry. And almost lost you. It won’t happen again.”

“I know.” And she did. “Nap, Slate. When you wake up, we’ll eat, then get you settled into bed. Wait, do you need to work tomorrow?”

“No. I’ve got the week off.”

“Okay, cool. I’ll call Lex and see if she can get someone to cover for my delivery route for a few days.”

“I’ll be okay hanging out while you do your thing,” he protested.

“Nope. I’m putting my foot down. I almost lost you,” she said, whispering that last part. “Give me a few days.”

“Done,” he said without hesitation. “I’d love to have you look after me while I’m recuperating.”

Ashlyn nodded, then reached for the lamp next to the couch. She turned off the light, then went to the curtains on the windows and shut those too. She knew how painful sunlight could be when she had a headache. Slate probably felt the same. His relieved sigh told her she was right.

“Oh, by the way, I’m not answering any of the texts from our friends. You sent the message, you can deal with them.”

“No problem. I’ll deal by ignoring them,” he said with a small smile, even as he shut his eyes.

Ashlyn watched him for a while. Even if she was slightly overwhelmed by how she’d gone from wanting to break up with Slate to admitting that she loved him, she couldn’t help but smile. She’d totally be talking to the other women about everything that happened. They would be thrilled for her, and probably smirk and say they knew all along she and Slate were gonna end up together…for real together.

Taking a deep breath, Ashlyn turned to the kitchen to start getting the lasagna ready. She needed to build Slate’s strength back up. Get him back to the bossy, slightly annoying, protective man she knew and loved. She didn’t like it when he was unsure and hurting.

Somehow a day that had started out miserable had ended up as one of the best of her life. Being in a relationship with Slate wouldn’t be without its ups and downs, but as long as they said they loved each other at the end of each day, and promised to deal with the bumps in the road, they’d be okay.