Before she could explain her thoughts, he stood. “I don’t see that there’s any reason to stay here any longer. I expect a full refund on our deposit, Ms. Kennedy.”
“Of course. And I can offer you a twenty-five percent discount on a future event booking.” The woman smiled.
How magnanimous of her.
Ashley followed Derek out into the lobby. As soon as Janessa’s office door shut behind them, she dropped her head into her hands. “I’m so sorry, Derek. I can’t believe this.” Tears burned her eyes. Oh no. She couldn’t cry. How unprofessional.
It had gotten so quiet she was sure Derek had left her there. But after several achingly long moments, he placed a hand on her back. The warmth traveled all the way to her toes.
“Why are you sorry?” His voice had gone soft, and she looked up. “It’ll be okay. We’ll just get our heads on straight and start calling around, looking for another venue.”
“Derek, you don’t understand.” Ashley stepped back, and his hand slipped away. “There won’t be any more venues. It was a pure miracle this place was available.”
He looked away, breathing out steadily as her words soaked in. “Come on.” He put out his hand.
She just stared at him.
“Ash. Come on.”
Ash. It was the first time he’d called her that since returning. And it was like a blanket thrown over her shoulders on a winter day. Like a chocolate chip cookie straight out of the oven.
Like coming home after a long trip.
Slowly, Ashley reached out and accepted his hand—and nearly sighed at the immediate warmth of her fingers tucked inside his.
Derek led her out the front door and to his beat-up blue Jeep. Without speaking, he took her notebook and purse from her, stuck them in the back, and grabbed a few water bottles before handing her one. Then Derek locked the doors and snagged her hand again.
The air was crisp and cool, a beautiful seventy degrees or so, and as they walked down the long driveway of the lodge, dead leaves and rocks crunched beneath their feet. Today, she’d opted for her nicest jeans, a blazer with three-quarter-length sleeves, and comfy flats—a good thing if she were right about Derek’s intentions.
And yeah, it was most definitely wrong of her, but she allowed herself to relish the feel of her hand in his. His fingers had always been slightly roughened from all the work he did around the vineyard. But instead of chafing against her skin, his calluses served as an anchor, holding her hand more securely so it didn’t slip.
They crossed the property until they got to a service road they’d frequented many times together before. A small wooden sign was the only thing marking this as a sanctioned hiking trail, one that locals had managed to keep a secret from tourists so it wouldn’t become overcrowded.
As they passed the sign, Ashley’s shoulders relaxed. The gentle slope of the trail, the twittering of birds high above them, the commingled smell of pine needles and ocean were all as familiar as breathing.
“Feeling a little better?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Good.” He dropped her hand and kicked at a rock, shoulders hunched forward as they moved down the trail.
“Thanks for bringing me here. I’ve always loved it.” Always loved being here with you.
“Being out in nature has a way of calming me down.” He peeked at her for a moment. “I thought it might work for you too.”
“Always the problem solver.”
That got a smile, albeit a sad one. “Some problems are easier than others to solve.”
What other problems were weighing on his shoulders?
A slow ache ambled through her whole body. Ashley wanted her friend back—the one who had told her everything. She’d been the first person he’d confided in about the full extent of his dad’s illness, what it meant, even how he felt about it.
Ashley bit the inside of her cheek. Claire was the person he’d tell those things to now. He didn’t need Ashley.
And she needed to stop needing him.
“Maybe talking about the past—how you used to feel, how things used to be—would go a long way in helping you heal.” Madison’s words from three days ago drifted back to her.
But even if she wanted to, how was Ashley supposed to go about starting a conversation like that?
A butterfly floated past her nose and landed on a nearby log. Two squirrels scampered along the trail in front of them and raced each other up a tree. Amazingly, the only companions they’d met along the path today had been of the animal variety.
This was a world unto themselves, a sliver of time that belonged only to them. If she were going to talk to Derek—really talk to him—then where better to do it?
She stopped.
Derek looked back at her, tilting his head. “Everything okay?”
Ashley inhaled sharply, studying him. “Why did you only call me once when you were in France?”
A shadow crossed his face. “Ash.”
“No.” She marched toward him until they stood nearly toe to toe. “I need to know, Derek.”
For a moment, he refused to look at her. But finally, he lowered his chocolate gaze to hers. Oh, a girl could get lost in those eyes.
But not today. Today, she needed answers. “Why, when I tried calling and texting and emailing you several times, did you act like our friendship meant nothing to you?”
He opened his mouth as if to speak, then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.” Maneuvering around her, he started back down the trail toward the trailhead.
“It matters to me.” She stood her ground, waiting for him to turn around. Praying he would.
His gaze remained on the path ahead. “Just drop it, Ashley.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” His fingers gripped his water bottle so hard she heard the crinkle of the plastic from ten feet away. “It doesn’t do any good to dig up the past.”
Ugh, the infuriating man and his logic. For just once, couldn’t he show he was capable of feeling something? “It does if it’s still affecting the present or the future.”
“It’s not.”
“Maybe for you.
