You're Mine

Chapter Ten

Ashley 

I unlock the front door, my body practically heaving in relief at the sight of my own house. I haven't been here in weeks and the hotels were certainly getting old.

My smile dampens slightly, spotting the bright orange peonies on the desk in the middle of the room with a note sticking out of them. I approach it cautiously, plucking the note out before taking a few steps back.

Congrats on all the shows.
Enjoy your well deserved break,
Cas xx 

I resist rolling my eyes, tucking the note into my pocket before dialling on my phone. A sigh escapes my lips as I glance at the peonies again.

A bang came from the door, frightening me. I tie my robe tighter around myself, padding towards the door cautiously. This apartment building has crappy locks on the doors, and I'm still looking to book a modelling job that pays me more than a few hundred dollars.

I peeked through the door, my eyes immediately going to Ryan's damp mess of hair on top of his head. 

"Open it Ash." His voice is low, almost angry and I swallow hard before unlocking the door. 

"What?" My tone is sharp, immediately defensive without even trying. Ryan rolls his eyes.

"Here." He shoves his hand forward, handing me a brightly coloured package of flowers. I step away from them, flinching. I'm so used to be handing flowers by family, friends, guests and coming out in a rash hours later because they don't realise.

But they're just roses- bright, red, beautiful roses wrapped with a neat bow. I wrap my hand around the stems cautiously.

"You missed my game." He says quietly. I sigh. "Scouts came. Everyone was there."

"I had a shoot, Ryan. I had to go." I say, crossing my arms. He stares at me, his shirt sticking to his back with the damp. "I'm-"

"Sorry? I know." He breathes out. "Congrats on the shoot Ash. I hope it blows up."

"Congrats on the game, I hope you get signed."

There's so much more left to say- so much more I want to say. Don't go, for starters. Let's make more time for each other, is another. But I can't. Neither can he. 

Maybe when we were young, we could've worked this out and made more time for each other. But he has football, friends, college, scouts watching his every move. I'm jumping from one city to another, desperately following work where I can. 

So I let him go- soaked, sad, worried. I let him walk back into that hallway and out the bottom door.

And I don't see him again.

"Hey, Patrica. Any chance somebody could come by to get rid of these flowers? I'm allergic. Cassian forgot."

(**)

I wriggle uncomfortably in bed, flinging my bra over onto the floor. I rub my forehead, running a hand through my shorter hair. It's been a long ass month.

It was nice to see everybody again in Van City- even Riley, who didn't want to see me. I couldn't really blame her, considering it was a surprise attack essentially. But she seemed better and worse all at once- her hands seemed less shaken, her posture more upright as if she had more confidence. Her hair had certainly grown out. 

But her eyes reminded me of my own mom's when my father had belittled her until she felt two feet tall- so hollow, searching almost. As if she was looking for something, or someone, to help her out of whatever hole she was in.