Chapter 17
1152 Words
[Not edited]
Chapter 17: {Emerging Heat}
It was a quarter after nine. Almost three and a half hours since I saw my mother or Ashton Hadley.
It was eating me up inside.
But when the door finally opened, all I could do was rush to her and pull her into my arms. Ashton stood quietly behind us as we hugged.
I watched him, closely. In fact, I had to remind myself to blink a few times.
Mom looked flushed when I pulled back. Her skin had a new peachy color that revived her to a youthful, more pleasant appearance. Her eyes also had a new brightness to them.
"Come in," I gestured, offering an extended stay to Ashton as a thank you for taking care of my mother.
He chuckled. "I can't."
"I insist. Please, Mr. Hadley?" My mother turned her head to look at him. With fluttering lashes and pout lips from the both of us, Ashton finally gave in to our pleading and begging.
As soon as everyone was inside I ran to the coffee maker to start a batch. I doubted anyone would actually drink the caffeinated drink, but I made it as a way to have my hands do something.
"She's fine," Ashton said behind me, probably replying to my reaction just minutes before when they walked in.
"Jesus, you scared me!" I yelped, turning to face him. In reality, however, I had sensed him standing there when I first got to the kitchen. He stood, leaning his chiseled body against the archway, watching me with crossed arms.
"I'm sorry I stole your mother." He pushed himself off the wall and made his way closer to me. I only froze, not moving a muscle.
"It's no big deal," I scoffed avoiding his eyes as I turned around.
Not a good idea, Lydia.
This is wrong.
He leaned his weight against the countertop beside me, his fingers gripping the hard surface for support. His knuckles turned white as a raspy sigh escaped him.
Everything about this situation was wrong, on so many different levels, yet I'd never felt so right. It's cliche and cheesy, but now I understood the meaning, "wrong never felt so right." It's when you know in your brain that it could never happen, but something deep within your core, your soul, whispers differently. It's almost primal how the feeling creeps up on someone.
On me.
"I promise I'll take you out." His stance was relaxed, his voice unwavering. "Wherever you want, I'll take you."
I sighed. "There really is no need, Mr. Hadley-"
"Ashton."
"Sorry," I mumbled watching him inspect his clothes. This was becoming awkward. "I know the city already."
The way he twisted his tie around his fingers told me he was nervous. He smoothed it down, then smooth it again. It wasn't like it could get any straighter.
My heart thudded in my chest. Maybe I was nervous, too. "Thank you so much for taking care of her today." I jumped up on the counter next to him. Our hands were centimeters away from touching. "She's a bit uptight at times and can be too overbearing."
"Tell me about it."
We both laughed.
"Tell me how the trip went."
He chuckled. "Your mother is a very unique person, just like her daughter." I rolled my eyes at that. I was trying not to be unique and here he was, Mr. Hot-Boss, telling me I'm special.
"We went to a few art galleries, and then to a symphony downtown. She loved the music. But there's one thing that I remember her saying-" He took in a slight breath.
"What?"
"That you used to sing." His grin got even bigger when he saw my face. With my eyes wide and my mouth gaping, I probably looked terrified. No one knew I sang, not even my mother. At least, I thought I had kept the secret well hidden.
I remembered those nights like I knew how to breathe. It was a habit. Back in high school, I would stay after sixth period every day for months just to sing with the school's choir.
At first, it was a dare from one of my 'friends,' but then it grew into a passion. I loved it. It was like an escape from the outside world.
My excuse for being late every day was hanging out with friends, and from what I knew, my parents believed me. Honestly, I don't think they cared that much. But singing was everything to me back then, and the fact that I had to keep it a secret from everyone hurt me. It made me insecure about myself and how I portrayed myself in the world.
"Sing something for me," He said smirking like a child. A child with too much sugar in his system.
"No. Not a chance in hell I'm singing for you." I was about ready to jump off when he grabbed my wrist, holding me in place. I sucked in air, filling my lungs to maximum capacity.
"I want to hear you sing." It was more like a demand this time, but it still held a soft tone.
I just sat there, staring at his god-like features, wondering how he got into my house. Did I invite him in? I doubted an independent woman like myself would invite a man like this into her home. Yet here he was, touching my wrist and asking me to sing for him.
"Lydia!" Mom called from the living room. "Could I get some water?" I sighed but hopped down anyway. I had almost forgotten she existed. Almost.
I took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with tap water. I knew she hated the stuff, but I honestly didn't care what she liked and didn't. She was invading my space, she deals with what I have.
After giving her the glass, I made my way back into the kitchen. He was still there, watching me intently as I walked up to him. The same way I'd watched him.
"Do you love her?" I caught myself thinking out loud just after I said it. I mumbled a curse and tried not to look him in the eyes. Of course, he loved her. He married her for a reason.
Jenna was beautiful and smart and caring. She was a bit snobbish at times, but she had never treated me with anything less than kindness. She respected her employees and worked hard for her company.
"I don't know anymore."
Wait? What?
We both looked at each other in shock. Are we really doing this? Here of all places? Apparently we were because we both had gotten closer. It was like embers igniting into a flame. It was small. Dwindling. But as our bodies leaned, the heat within grew until it was burning us up.
Until I couldn't take it anymore.
I stepped back.
- Writer
