‘Ash, that was years ago.’ There was no distress in her eyes, no embarrassment, no concern. She certainly wasn’t blushing. Because she really wasn’t bothered. If anything, her smile had grown bigger and more carefree. ‘Have you been feeling bad all this time?’
He hesitated.
‘Forget it,’ she said. ‘Truly.’
He’d thought he’d devastated her. That he’d blighted her life. He clearly hadn’t. She barely batted an eyelash about it now. She didn’t look at him with any adulation, any interest even. Just courtesy. He mocked himself bitterly—it had been so arrogant of him to assume he’d truly hurt her. But he’d thought he’d really damaged her. The way his mother had been damaged. Had he confused the impact on Rose with the devastation his mother had felt? And his mother had so many other reasons to react so angrily, so devastatingly, to that foolish, selfish act. Everything had got jumbled up inside him, and he’d been so upset he’d thought of everything in extremes.
Now he’d never been so relieved to be wrong about something.
‘You seem really well,’ he said feebly.
‘I am, thanks.’ She glanced past him. ‘But I’m afraid I need to get going—there’s someone I really have to see.’
‘Yes. Of course.’
Yeah, she wasn’t interested in lingering to talk to him. She wasn’t interested in him at all any more. She’d grown up and moved on. Whereas he? He’d got stuck back there—in that hot mess of guilt and betrayal and hurt. But maybe he didn’t need to be there any more. Maybe he’d been an idiot.
He kept a grip on himself long enough to chat to a few more guests. From a distance he saw his half-brother shoot him an appreciative nod of the head. A few women smiled, ‘available and interested’ signals lighting their eyes. He smiled but kept his distance and talked up Leo’s new development plans some more as, inside, feelings crystallised into hard rocks of unavoidable truth.
Suddenly he couldn’t stay a second longer. He couldn’t find Leo to say goodbye. He’d send him a text tomorrow. He asked his driver to just drive. He didn’t want to go to his empty penthouse, didn’t want to stay at the party, didn’t want to take up any of the offers he’d had.
Instead, he took the back seat and closed his eyes, partially soothed by the low hum of the powerful engine and the constant movement. That sensation of escape was essential. But what he was struggling with was stuck inside him. There was no escape from that.
He’d been wrong. Seeing Rose had made him reassess the fallout of those actions of so long ago. Leo was bold and in control. Grace happily doing her thing in Melbourne. Rose was clearly confident and in control of her life. Apparently the only person still bogged down in all that horror was him—stuck in resentment and isolation and self-loathing. Stuck so he couldn’t get out to where he wanted—and needed—to be.
Merle Jordan didn’t like good-looking or popular guys. She didn’t trust anyone’s motivations. Ash didn’t blame her. She’d judged him, and that long-burning rebelliousness in Ash had meant he’d encouraged her to. He’d made it so easy for her—playing up to that image. He’d been everything she’d been wary of. But then, with that perfect eyesight of hers, she’d seen through him. She’d seen more in him than he’d wanted to believe was there. She’d seen right from the start that he was hiding.
Of course he was hiding—he’d been hiding, faking, for years. Just as his father had. No matter that the lies were different, he was still living a lie. Still using a facade to hide behind. He’d hated who he was beneath it. And now he hated that he couldn’t be the guy she needed. The last thing he’d wanted to do was hurt her, but he had. Badly. He’d hurt himself too. The cavernous hopelessness had become a physical pain. She deserved so much better than what he’d offered. Than what he was. Or what he’d thought he was. Because maybe he’d taken it all too far?
For so long he’d thought he was just like his father. For so long he’d tried not to be but felt that hopelessness deep inside. That there was something within him that he couldn’t escape. That he was someone who’d hurt the people he loved the most. But that wasn’t entirely true, was it? Because he hadn’t hurt Rose the way he’d thought. Or maybe he had, but she’d long forgiven and forgotten and moved on to better things. Because people failed and people made mistakes but they tried again. Ash wasn’t used to failure in a business sense. He didn’t have much experience of trying again. But couldn’t he? Couldn’t he be better?
Because the person he’d hurt recently? She was the one who mattered most. Her words—the ones he’d tried not to listen to—rang in his ears like town hall bells pealing through the county.
Don’t let him win.
Was that what he was doing? Wasn’t she right? Wouldn’t having a committed, happy, honest relationship be the ultimate act of rebellion against his father’s memory? Even when facing the worst, Merle had hope and strength. She wanted more for him. But also for herself. Because she could admit how she felt. She had courage. He wanted to be better for her—brave like her. And he didn’t give a damn about his bloody father any more.
He didn’t want Merle to be alone, and the last thing he wanted was for her to find someone else. In time, she would. She was too beautiful, too loveable not to. Suddenly his old arrogance soared inside. No one else—no one—could give her what he could give her. He wanted her to have everything she’d missed out on. Not material wealth or luxury. It was simpler than that. Scarier. But how did he create a bond that would only strengthen them? How did he reach out to her? How did he do any of this?
