Ashlyn hasn't spoken a word since the age of eight, and her heart's never felt more protected. But, when the confident and ever so charming Derek stumbles into her quiet little world, her emotions-and forbidden desires-have never been so loud.
...
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A heavy sigh escaped her lips, and Ashlyn walked towards the living room, her hand tangling in her hair. Before she made it to the sofa, she turned suddenly on Derek.
I thought I knew how to say what I wanted to say. I've been thinking about this, about us all afternoon. But no words seem right to explain how I feel, and I just... Her hands moved in a flurry, and she was sure that Derek wouldn't have caught many of them. She felt frustrated. Why did the words have to be so complicated to find?
She turned on the spot again and fell onto the sofa with a huff. Her hands covered her face, her fingertips massaging her temple to kickstart the part of her brain responsible for the emotions that had all too willingly plagued her earlier.
The sofa dipped beside her, a shoulder bumping against hers. Firm hands covered Ashlyn's and pulled them away from her face. Tucking her hands inside of his own, Derek shifted so that he faced her.
"We do this at your pace, remember? I'm not going anywhere, however long it takes," he spoke softly, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. "When you're ready to talk, we'll talk," he added.
Ashlyn looked down at their clasped hands and squeezed. Words would never be enough to capture her appreciation for the patience he displayed.
The lack of words now, when she'd thought of so many things to say earlier, was puzzling. She didn't understand how all thought could seize so quickly, leaving her a bumbling fool, her intentions behind this visit rendered pointless.
The look she gave Derek was apologetic, her frustration with herself tainting the set of her lips and the crease in her brow.
"Why don't we watch a movie? Have a quiet night in?" He brushed a curl back from her cheek, his finger smoothing the lines in her forehead. "I've never seen The Princess Bride, you know." He chuckled.
Ashlyn raised a brow in disbelief. She waited for him to deny it, to admit it was a joke but he didn't. She disengaged her hands from his and turned to face him, scrutinizing his expression, searching for the sign that he was lying.
Wait, you're serious? She asked. This man who had entire bookshelves dedicated to Romantic Classics hadn't watched one of the greatest classics of all time? She found it hard to believe.
No, you're lying. She chuckled and shoved him with a cushion.
"I'm not, I swear." He laughed, fending off her playful attack. He caught her hands in his and held them in his lap, fiddling with her fingers. "My grandmother used to read me the book whenever I was sick. We were going to watch the movie together when I was a little older, but then she passed, and well." He shrugged, the patterns he drew on the back of her hand, causing a tingle to course through her.
Ashlyn hoped that her sorrow was evident in the set of her eyes. She knew all too well the pain of losing someone before you got to do all the things you'd planned to do together.
