Ashley
I walk—no, stumble—right past Gray like he's invisible, aiming for my front door with all the grace of a baby deer on roller skates. The world tilts sideways, and nausea licks up the back of my throat.
C'mon, b***h. Just make it to the bed, I chant, clutching my keys like they're the last lifeline on earth. My palms are sweaty, my fingers useless, and the damn things keep slipping. Trying to shove one into the lock feels like solving a Rubik's cube with oven mitts on.
I don't even hear him move—just feel it. The sudden heat at my back.
Then his hand closes over mine. Smooth. Steady. He plucks the keys right out of my grip like I'm some reckless kid who can't be trusted with sharp objects.
The metallic click of the lock echoes way too loud, way too easy.
My stomach twists. Not
