Ashley
I tried to hold it together, but the moment I blinked, I felt the tears slip down my cheeks. I told the coach I needed time to think—not because I hated the idea of being with Beckett, but because I was terrified.
If this really happens, if I let myself go there again, I’m afraid everything I worked so hard to bury will come flooding back. The hurt. The confusion. The quiet ache I carried for months because Beckett left without a real explanation.
He left. That’s the part I can’t forget, no matter how much I want to.
“Ash... hey, hey—”
Damn it.
Before I could step away, Beckett is right there, blocking me, his eyes desperate and fierce. I don’t want to look, but I can’t stop myself. For a long moment, I just take him in—how worn down he looks, how much frustration is carved
