The Arrangement

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Blair

The gentle knock at my door has me shifting myself up in the bed as I call for whoever it is to come in. My voice lacks the usual vigor, a tired whisper that speaks volumes about my state of mind.

It's quite late into the morning and I've already told Ashton once that I just want to stay in bed so as he strolls into my room I can't help but sigh.

I know last night I said to Lennox that I'd stay and hear them out but just because I am it doesn't mean I'm happy about it. And after what they did they have no right to expect me to be either.

I'm tired, my hands and feet have been excruciatingly painful all night, and in truth I'm fed up.

As he steps into my room there's a hesitant smile there, his steps careful as his eyes search my face. Gauging my reaction to him. He's cautious and I don't know but something about the way he moves, makes it seem like he's worried I'll spook again.

"I said I didn't feel like getting up yet" I grumble, hating the pitiful tone of my voice.

He closes the door softly behind him and takes a few steps closer, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, as if to keep them from reaching out to me. The air between us feels heavy, charged with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

"I know, but I thought maybe you'd want something to eat?" he offers, his voice gentle, almost soothing.

"I'm not hungry" I reply, biting back the frustration that threatens to spill over. It's not just the physical pain that's wearing me down; it's the emotional turmoil that lingers.

Ashton steps closer, his gaze steady. "You need to let us take care of you," he says softly, his tone coaxing rather than demanding. "Let me take care of you."

I shift slightly under the covers, the fabric brushing against my skin like a reminder of my own fragility. I can see the concern etched into his features, the way his brow furrows ever so slightly as he studies me, searching for a crack in the wall I've built around myself.

"Take care of me?" I murmur, skepticism lacing my voice. It sounds both comforting and terrifying. The notion of being cared for feels foreign, almost alien, and I'm not sure I know how to accept it especially when he's part of the reason I need looking after in the first place.

Ashton takes another step closer, his hands still tucked away as if he's afraid of what might happen if he reaches out. "Yes," he replies, his tone unwavering.."How about a shower or bath instead?" He offers and that does have me scoffing.

"What, are you trying to tell me I smell?" I accuse. "Delightful"

He doesn't even warrant me with a response, he just crosses his arms and peers down at me with his brow arched.

In truth I feel disgusting and could really really do with cleaning myself up. Washing myself down in the sink yesterday just hasn't cut it and I think it's making me feel ten times worse.

I gesture towards my feet, which throb with discomfort. "You may have forgotten, but I can barely stand. My feet hurt too much," I point out, frustration creeping into my voice.

"So let me help you" he replies, his voice steady. He steps closer, the distance between us shrinking, and I can see the sincerity in his gaze. "I won't force you to do anything you don't want to. But I can be there for you."

I search his face for any hint of impatience or mockery, but all I see is genuine concern, a steadfast willingness to support me in whatever way I need. It's disarming, and I hate how much I want to lean into it.
"Why?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why do you care so much? You don't have to do this."

His expression softens, and he uncrosses his arms, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "Because I do care. I care about you. I know things have been tough, and I'm part of the reason for that but I hope this can be a step towards attempting to make up for massive fuck up this has all become."

I take a moment to absorb his words, letting them hang in the air between us. The sincerity in his voice pierces through the barrier I've built around my heart, and for a split second, I contemplate dropping my guard.

"You say that you care," I reply, my voice still shaky but edged with skepticism. "But how can I trust that? Trust doesn't just come from words; it comes from actions. And the actions you all took caused the pain I'm in right now" I say gesturing to myself. "Physically and emotionally" I then add my voice a little strained as I have to speak past the lump forming in my throat.

His eyes flicker with a mix of regret and determination, and he nods, acknowledging the truth in my words. "You're right," he admits, his voice steady but tinged with remorse. "I can't deny the role I played in all of this. My actions or lack thereof have hurt you, and I hate that."

He pauses, running a hand through his hair, clearly grappling with the weight of his mistakes. "I know that apologies are just words, and they can only do so much."

I watch him carefully, noting the sincerity etched into his features. There's a vulnerability in his eyes that wasn't there before, a raw honesty that gives me pause. It's as if he's stripped away the bravado and defenses, standing before me in an unguarded moment.

He continues, "I want to make things right, or as right as they can be given everything that's happened. I can't undo what happened, but I can be here for you now. I can help you navigate through this mess, in whatever way you need. I'm not expecting you to just forgive and forget. I know it's not that simple."

A part of me doesn't want to believe him, especially when he seems so genuinely sincere yet I find myself accepting the offer of support he's extending.

"Okay," I finally say, the word feeling both like a surrender and a small victory.

With that, I push myself up slowly, wincing as my feet touch the floor. The ache is sharp, but I can feel Ashton's steady presence beside me, a reassuring anchor. He reaches out, offering his arm, and I hesitate only for a moment before taking it.

Together, we slowly move toward the bathroom, each step as excruciating as the last but as I walk beside him, I feel the walls I've built around myself begin to tremble just a fraction. Maybe, just maybe, I can start to let him in.