Clay's Unwanted Blondie

Chapter 45

✧ ASHTON DRAKKON ✧

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, ASH?"

Standing on enemy territory that's what. With an expensive bottle of Pinot Gris nonetheless.

All for her.

Brooke hadn't flinched when Jessica Cervantes invited him to this dinner so like the lovesick pup he'd always been, he was here.

Outside the Cervantes mansion that echoed raucous laughter from inside.

He lifted his hand to give the knocker a good old knock and that very hand froze in mid air.

Like it had for the last ten minutes. God or even more.

Like the universe had had enough of his nonsense, the huge mahogany door -the good kind of hard mahogany- opened.

Standing in the doorway with an 'mama's home' apron, Jessica Cervantes gave him the biggest grin he felt guilty for merely standing there.

This woman....once upon a time had been his biggest supporter. A woman who believed that he and Clay would be the best of friends till they went back to the sands from whence they were created.

"You might have had a falling out with Clay but you are still the same boy I knew back then and you are welcome in this home"

She was wrong.

He wasn't a boy and most of all he wasn't the same person she knew back then.

The old him was tacky, reckless and a spiteful little kid. The new him might have been worse.

"I don't think I am, Jessica"

That didn't stop her. No, Jessica Cervantes got whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted.

Which was no surprise when she grabbed hold of his arm pulling him into the confines of what might have been his second hell.

Once they were in the kitchen, Jessica took the bottle off his hands and while she mumbled about getting the corkscrew and how nice it was of him to show, his legs wandered, his hands rushed to get a touch of those memories that had been buried deep he'd sworn he would never dig them up.

The countertops were still the same shiny—slimy brown, the marble tops the same grey that happened to be Clay's favorite color and that kitchen island no matter the ramifications made to it, he could still see a teenage Clay seating there teasing him while he got a coke from the fridge.

How had everything gone to shit ten years later?

How had he and Clay drifted so far apart those memories were now ashes fading slowly with the winds?

It was his fault. Damn, he lived with that feeling of having someone's death on him everyday and Clay couldn't forgive him.

He couldn't forgive himself either.

"This way, you remember where we used to have dinner, don't you?"

"Ofcourse"

"Good"

Jessica Cervantes was walking but he stood there rooted to the kitchen floor.

Out in the patio was trouble. Out in the patio was Clay Cervantes and he would show his displeasure the minute Ashton occupied a seat on his mother's dinner table.

The ironical thing was he wasn't worried about Clay or his cousins and brother but about Brooklyn.

Would she be happy he showed?

That he was atleast trying to be good for her?

All he needed was a smile from her and he Cervantes men could kiss his ass for all he cared.