ASHLEY
Of all the things Beckett could’ve done today, his silence hurts the most. I thought I could do this. I told him I could. Just s*x. Just that. But my lips tremble anyway.
I drag my hand over my mouth, as if I can press the shake out of them. What the f**k, Ash. What the actual f**k.
Beckett’s lying beside me but I know he’s already a thousand miles away. I try to say something—anything. But the words die in my throat, and it’s terrifying how quiet he’s being.
Beckett pushes himself up on one elbow, and for a heartbeat, hope blooms stupid and desperate in my chest. Maybe he’ll kiss me. Maybe he’ll call me by that dumb nickname he used to drop just to make me roll my eyes.
Instead, he scrubs a hand through his hair and grabs his jeans.
Oh.
Okay.
Cool.
So that’s what we’re do
