ASHLEY
Two days.
It had been two days since I’d seen him. Two days since I’d locked eyes with the man who once made me feel like the center of his world and then shattered it without warning. Two days since I’ve seen Kyle and the shock hasn’t worn off
I pulled my coat tighter around me as I walked into the lobby of my hotel, the chill from outside clinging to my skin. New York in January wasn’t forgiving, but it wasn’t the cold that had my thoughts scattered–it was him.
Kyle Blackwood. Of all the places, of all the moments, it had to be there.
I hadn’t expected to see him so soon after returning to New York. Hell, I hadn’t expected to see him at all. My plans had been simple: check on Violet, make sure she had the support she needed, and then head back home once everything stabilized.
But now, with Violet’s condition requiring more frequent hospital visits, my stay in the city was stretching longer than I’d planned. And that meant there was no escaping the ghosts of my past–not when they were walking, breathing, and standing just a few feet away from me.
I sighed as I stepped into my room, tossing my bag onto the bed. The hotel was nice, luxurious even, but it wasn’t home. Nothing about this city felt like home anymore, not since everything had fallen apart.
I kicked off my kicks and sank onto the edge of the bed, replaying the moment Kyle’s eyes met mine. Well, that is what my brain has been doing the past two days…replaying that night on an endless loop
He had looked… surprised, maybe even conflicted. But he didn’t approach me. He didn’t say a word. And neither did I.
“Coward,” I muttered under my breath, though I wasn’t sure if I was talking about him or myself.
Seeing Kyle again had thrown me off balance in ways I wasn’t prepared for. But I couldn’t let myself dwell on it.
Still, as I closed my eyes and tried to will myself to sleep, one thought refused to leave me.
Why was he at the hospital in the first place?
Turns out, Sleep and I had been waging war against each other ever since I got back to New York. One moment, I’d be lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, willing myself to relax, and the next, I’d find myself somewhere else entirely–like the hotel bar, chasing solace in a glass of wine.
Tonight was no different.
The bar was dimly lit, with warm, golden tones that gave it an inviting yet lonely feel. It was the kind of place where people came to disappear, to drown their thoughts in the bottom of a glass, and tonight, I was no exception.
I claimed a stool at the far end of the counter, somewhere I could fade into the background unnoticed. A glass of red wine sat in front of me, and I took a slow sip, savoring the way it warmed my chest. But no amount of alcohol could quiet the thoughts tumbling through my head, pulling me back to the hospital. Back to him.
Kyle.
Seeing him again had stirred something deep inside me, something I couldn’t quite name. But it wasn’t longing. It couldn’t be.
I’d moved on.
No, the only reason I felt so unsettled was because I hadn’t seen him in so long. That was all it was. I hadn’t expected to run into him, especially not there.
It had caught me off guard, nothing more. People react strangely to surprises all the time, don’t they? It didn’t mean anything.
I gritted my teeth and took a sip of my wine, the liquid warming my chest but doing little to quiet my mind. I couldn’t let myself spiral. Whatever emotions his presence had stirred, they didn’t mean anything. They were just echoes of a past life, a past me.
Get a grip, Ashley,” I muttered under my breath. “You’re better than this.”
“Rough night?”
The smooth, deep voice startled me, pulling me out of my spiral. I glanced up, blinking in surprise.
1/2
Chapter 6
Standing next to me was a man who could’ve stepped straight out of a high–fashion ad. His dark hair was perfectly styled, not a strand out of place, and his sharp, chiseled jawline gave him an almost regal air.
“Mind if I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the stool next to me.
I hesitated, caught off guard by his sudden presence. “Uh, sure,” I said finally, nodding toward the seat.
He smiled–a small, confident curve of his lips–and slid onto the stool, resting his forearms on the counter. “You look like you’re having a conversation with your wine,”
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