The song for this chapter is Landslide, originally by Fleetwood Mac, but this is a over by Gwyneth Paltrow. This is a good song for Ash. A song where the singer is asking questions of herself, and trying determine if she's going to rise to the challenges in her life, be buried by the landslide, or if the landslide will reveal new landscapes to her...
Ashlynn
Leed spends the drive telling me why he loves vintage sports carsâbecause they have a history, he says. He talks about the places they have been before he owned them, the people who have owned them, raced them, had highs and lows in them, made love in them, ran out of gas in them, gunned them down streets in anger and arrogance. He tells me every owner of this car. The celebrities aren't the one that impress him. He tells me about an industry guy who owned it back in the nineties, who walked away from it all. Sold everything he owned and went to live in an ashram in India.
"Think about what kind of shit went down with him...maybe in this very car...to make a life change like that. I don't know if he made the right choice, but I know he was brave as fuck. I think about that sometimes, when I have decisions to make. I sit in this car, and I try to make them from a place of fearlessness, you know?"
I twist in the suit, so I can watch Leed drive. He looks so sexy and aloof, shifting those gears as he checks the mirror in sunglasses. And he has no idea what it does to me, when he so very casually shows me his depth like that. So unafraid to be real. He catches me staring.
"What?"
"You're hot and incredibly talented. Yet you are amazingly kind and interesting and surprisingly deep. I can't figure it out how a guy that looks like you, with your talent that has had so much success so young, is...like you are."
"Oh that's easy. I'm an old soul. I'm not quite ready to tell you about my past lives yet, though." He bites his lip.
There's a silence for a minute and then the evil grin spreads across his face. I slap his arm with the back of my hand. "You are such a liar! I thought you were serious for a minute! I was ready to believe it, too!"
"I know. You are so gullible, baby. It's fucking hilarious to mess with you. But I'm gonna stop making up shit. I want you to know you can trust what I say, okay?" He reaches over in the tiny sports car and lays a casual hand on my thigh. It's such a small gesture but I like it more than I should.
I try to breathe. I can't let my body get ahead of me. That will get me in such big trouble with this guy. Because he's so sexual, and the last thing I want is to rush into things and freeze up on him. The idea of getting naked with him fills me with an anxiety like I haven't known since I left Seattle, almost nine months ago.
He pulls into Ravi's place and walks in with me, reporting to Ravi that he's been working on the poses Ravi gave him and that he's ready to resume practice. Ravi says that he can join us. Leed looks at me steadily for a moment then shakes his head. "This is about her path. I don't want to mess with her concentration. I'll call you for a time. I have something I want to discuss with you, anyway. Something fun."
Ravi smiles serenely at Leed. "Your heart chakra is open, now. Leed. Very good."
Leed bows to Ravi. To me he says, "I gotta head back to Tam's, but can you come over and stay at my place Thursday night? That's when I'm gonna have Ollie."
"Thursday? I can't... that's when I have that date Riley set up..."
He rolls his eyes at me. "Nice try Sunshine, but your poker face is terrible."
"Shoot." I snap my fingers, winking at him. "Fine was just trying to pay you back...a lie for a lie. Yes, of course I'll help with Ollie. See you Thursday."
Leed slides his sunglasses back on and puts a hand to my back, giving me the LA half hug farewell. Then, he abandons the rock star gesture and draws me up on my toes into a solid, warm, embrace. "I...really like hugging you," he whispers in my ear. "I'll miss it, until Thursday..."
"You know what? I might...miss all of you, not just your hugs." I whisper honestly.
"You won't miss me so much. I'll be calling you, Sunshine..." His hand climbs to my hair, and he presses a kiss to my temple, and then he's gone.
Ravi says nothing more, we just begin our practice. I set a simple intention--to focus on the flow, and not Leed, for these two hours. Leed is rapidly becoming too big in my brain, and the practice recalls me to a lot of things. Why I am here. What I am doing this for. All the things I wantânot just Leed.
Two hours go by quickly, as centered in the practice as I am. I've been working on my handstand variationsâstraight up, split legs, touching my head with my legs. Today, for the first time, I achieve them all without Ravi correcting my balance to keep me from touching down.
"You're doing a second daily practice, aren't you? With a lot of inversions?" he murmurs after our sukasana meditation.
"Most days." I honestly don't know if I need a second practice daily to keep the headaches at bay, but I started out that way...a few minutes in the morning, and a few minutes at night. As I progressed in yoga, both practices increased, and I'm afraid to stop the nightly sessions, even though I'm working for two hours a day with Ravi, usually five days a week.
He smiles. "Your strength and focus is advancing rapidly, Ashlynn. But yoga is not a race, because the journey never ends. Be careful to avoid injury. Don't practice challenging poses at night when your muscles are fatigued, okay?"
"Okay."
"Girl stands on her head more than anybody I've ever seen," Trace's voice calls from the corner. "Except maybe for Leed."
"Inversions do have their benefits," Ravi says mildly. "You're the guitarist, right?"
Trace comes forward and shakes hands with Ravi, introducing himself, while I grab my bag and quickly go to change, brush my teeth and swipe on some mascara that Kat thoughtfully put in my bag. When I return to the studio Trace is complaining through a forward fold.
"Tight hamstrings," Ravi says with a wink to me.
I tuck back my smile, privately thinking that Trace is a little less tight everyday, thanks to Kat. It makes me so relieved to see Trace happy and...easy. The last couple of years were so tough for us both, but I really do care about Trace. Like up there in the top five. Nobody elseânot Cam, not even Leedâhas done more for me than that man.
I go over and push on his back slightly, "Owww!" he complains.
Ravi clucks. "Ashlynn, you should never push a student beyond their comfort."
"He's not a student, he's my childhood nemesis," I say cheerfully. "Whoa, stop!" Trace has grabbed my ankle out from under me and I'm hopping on one foot, beating on his back. He's trying to crack my toesâwhich he learned somewhere in the middle school years that I absolutely hate--but I jerk my foot out of his grasp.
"Truce, truce," I say quickly, putting my hands up as he looks at me with that same look he's had since he was sixâa bad-ass bent on mayhem. "I'm sorry I started it."
"'Kay. Truce." he says, straightening. "I'm fucking starving. Let's get lunch."
It's weird, being out in public with Trace. He's driving his tricked out Nissan, which gets more attention than Leeds vintage Ferrari, because he whines the engine just for fun at a stoplight. Something he never would have done when we were married. Call attention to himself if he were driving me somewhere.
"You aren't gonna peel out when the light turns green, are you?" I ask anxiously.
"Maybe." He's looking at the teenager guy in the tiny roadster whose giving him the "let's go" look. "Punk over there in daddy's car thinks he can take me. In a fucking Beamer."
"Trace, please...don't." I gesture to my head, and he immediately pushes in the clutch, disenganging the violently loud engine.
"Sorry, I didn't think." He looks at me just like the old days, assessing every point of tension in my face. "Headache?" he asks mildly.
"Threatening headache," I mumble."I just don't want it to get worse."
Headaches really do terrify me. When I get that tension in my head, my first thought is always...will this be the one that won't go away? Is the old pain coming back?
"Why?" he asks bluntly. "Is it stress? Everything that happened yesterday? Cam, Leed, me...did we cause it?"
I look out the window, not answering. I do not want to tell Trace it's a period headache.
"Ash...please. This ain't gonna work with the three of us, if you and I can't just...be normal. Cause I still feel like we're family. And I think...maybe...one day...there's a good chance you're gonna be my sister for real. I'm tired of this shit where you keep telling me it's not my job to look out for you. Of course it's my job. I promised your mom and dad, I'd look out for both of you."
"Fine. I don't think my head hurts from stress. I feel okay, emotionally. Happy, actually. Which is crazy, considering everything that happened yesterday, but I do. I feel happy. I just have a little...PMS." I'm a little past PMS, but he'll get the idea.
"Oooooooohhhhhhhh," he says. "Kay."
We drive in silence to the restaurantâa trendy little cafe that serves everything from craft burgers to vegan. It's a place we always used to get take-out, but Trace and I have never stepped foot in a Calabasas restaurant together. When he pulls up to the valet, there's a pap there smoking a cigarette. Trace ignores him as he tosses the keys to the attendant and takes the slip, and the pap just lazily adjusts his camera settings, like he's not even sure if a picture of Trace at lunch is worth it. Since Trace and Kat went public and Trace has been home off tour, they've been inseparable, and pictures of them were front page gossip mag for weeks and weeks. Marcy yelled at them for overexposing Trace's image, but Trace just told her if the expiration date on love in the media was two months, the whole fame engine could go fuck itself, as far as he was concerned, because he was absolutely proud to go everywhere with "his KitKat." They kept going out, and now the paps wait for them to doing something goodâlike kiss or sport brand merchandiseâbefore they bother to raise their cameras.
As soon as I step out of the car, the pap is on us. "What's your name, Beautiful? Are you a model? Trace, is this your new girl? Where's Kat?"
Trace ignores him, holding out a hand to gesture me into the restaurant, staying between me and the pap but also giving me lots of personal space so the pap can't get a misleading shot. "I'm gonna find out, you know..." the pap yells after him. "If it takes me weeks, I'll find out who she is. You tell me, I might not embellish what I dig up..."
I halt. "No," Trace growls. "Let him work for it."
"You might not have anything left to hide, but maybe I do," I say quietly. He looks at me in surprise.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks curiously.
I don't answer. His face darkens for a moment as he watches me. Then it clears as he whirls me around. "You're really bad at your job, you know." He pulls my sunglasses off my face. "You can't recognize the sister-looks? This is Ashlynn Ballard. She just recently moved out here. And my girlfriend is in class, douchebag."
Lunch is somewhat quiet, after that. We order, we eat, we talk mostly about mundane things...the apartment, which we are still decorating. Trace wants to know if I want any of my stuff that's left at his house. I moved most of the things I wanted already, but there are still a few boxes stacked in my old closet. I tell him maybe Kat and I will come by later this week and look through it. When I was high, I was not shy about spending Trace's money, and there are thousands of dollars of purses and belts and shoes in those boxes. Now I feel weird about owning it. Kat probably won't want any of it, though...it's all seasons out of date, and she is an Instagram star, after all.
I tell Trace I have an appointment with my old neurologist this afternoonâthe one he insisted I start seeing after we got married. My parents really want me to keep up with my conventional medical "check-ups"âwhich I consider pointless because the neurologists have never done a thing to help me, except the one that probably saved my life the night of the accident. I was going to blow it off, but ironically, Cam convinced me to continue seeing the brain specialist. "Just go get the scans and think of it like an experiment," he said. "It would be interesting for you to do your alternative therapy and have the comparison of the tests, to see if anything changes over time."
Trace insists on going with me to the appointment, which is completely unnecessary, but he's been to every one before, so I don't argue with him.
After we pay the check, Trace halts me from getting up. He crosses his arms, his Lucifer brows knitting together in speculation, his icy eyes firing.
"What did you mean, you have things to hide?"
I play with my napkin. "I don't know what might be out there...from the year I was running from you. Photos, videos, people with stories to tell, scores to settle. I did a lot of stuff I'm not proud of."
Trace nods, unhappy. He taps his fingers on the table. Very softly he says, "It fucking kills me, Ash. To know I drove you awayâdrove you to that. I would do anything to take it backâhow I acted when I went to Portland and left you behind. I would do anything to take New Year's back, too."
"I know." So many times he's said this, and so many times I wished he could take it back, too. For the first time, I'm starting to wonder if that's true. Could I maybe have a future that is worth all the pain I've been through? "We can't always be looking to the past, Trace. That's not where we are headed."
He smiles. "So beautiful and yet irritatingly wise. Just like someone else I know. Alright, setting regrets asideâyou need to tell me what we are talking about. What kind of stuff is out there, Ash? I can't protect you if I don't know."
I shrug. "I honestly don't know, Trace. Being perpetually high means you don't always know what it going on around you. Look, I don't want to dwell on it. I knew it was one of the risks of coming to LA and being seen with you and Kat and Leedâthat stuff I don't really remember might come to light. But I don't want to antagonize paparazzi. If I just look like the boring Big Sister of Soundcrush, I'm sure I'll stay in the background."
"Background," Trace repeats. "You and Leed? Background? Do you know what you two look like together? Both tall and sexy and all..." he gestures vaguely at my countenance, struggling for a description "boho beautiful? You two are front page, Hon."
I sip my lemon water, and say nothing. I hadn't really thought about thatâthat being with Leed might put me in the spotlight. The last year, on my own, I got used to being in the dark background with the men I was with. Even though a couple of them were West Coast music industry insiders, paps don't shoot the unknown strung-out chics that hang with entourage-types.
"Look, I know it's none of my business, what's going on between you and Leed. The truth is...he's my brother and even though sometimes we bitch and flex, I love him. I only want good for him. And for you. But he's not...like any guy you've ever been with, Ash. He's not...mild and even... like Cam. He's not...platonic...like me. Leed's a freight train to hedonism."
"Says the guy who was trying to sex my sister against the patio fence," I snark.
"Okay, okay, that was a stupid idea. I wouldn't have actually done it, I was just flirting, hoping to get a little something started and take it inside. I'm sorry y'all heard that. I never want to embarrass Kat, you know that. But we're talking about you and Leed, not me and Kat. I just don't want you to get in over your head. I don't want you to get hurt. We're family. Me, you, all of SCIC. I don't want...hurts in the family that can't be healed."
I take a deep breath. It's probably better Trace hears this from me, rather than Leed. "Trace, you don't have to worry about me and Leed. He understands where I'm coming fromâthat I need to keep things slow and light right now. But we like each other. We like hanging out with each other. We like...hugging and being close with each other. We're going to try...dating, and see where it goes."
"Dating," Trace repeats, just the same hollow, disbelieving way he repeated background, earlier. "Leed...he...he said that? That he wants to date you?"
"Yes."
Trace rubs a hand over his chin. "Exactly what did he say?"
I roll my eyes and throw my napkin and Trace. "Jesus, Trace! I'm not a child and he's not some evil...creeper...or something. He's said it more than once, now. That he wants to try...dating. We're gonna go out in a couple of weeks, when he gets separated from Tam's household and on a time-share schedule with Ollie. So you need to just...get used to the idea. That we are going to be...seeing each other."
Trace leans forward on the table and puts his head in his hands. After a long moment, he shakes it, and throws himself back in the chair. Now, he has the rock star face on. He takes a deep breath. "Okay."
I blink. "Okay?"
"Yeah. Okay. I mean...what the hell else am I supposed to say? If there is anybody that could flip Leed's rock star switch, I suppose it would be ...you, Ash. You're gentle, and extremely nice. Leed needs someone that won't hurt his big giant baby feelings," Trace grins.
"He is not a baby," I chide. "He's just...very different than you. Wide open, where you are mostly shut tight."
"I know. Listen, just...keep one thing in mind, okay?"
"What?"
"If anything should happen that...hurts you...and I'm not just talking about with Leed, but in general...please...don't skip town without letting anybody know. Without letting Kat know. Can you promise me that?" His eyes are ice again, pleading, demanding the promise.
"I promise Trace. No more running."
"Mmmmm..." Trace checks his phone. "We better run right now."
My doctor's appointment is just a consultation to review the scans that were ordered last week, so Trace joins me in the doctor's office, just as he did the two years we were married.
Dr. Reynolds smiles brightly as he shakes my hand. "Ashlynn, you look very healthy. You're feeling well, then?"
"Yes." I explain to the doctor, whom I haven't seen in about nine months and who knows my history of prescription drug abuse, that I'm using yoga and acupuncture to manage my headaches, and that I am completely drug free, beyond an occasional dose of ibuprofen, which is all I need to manage the occasional mild symptoms I have now.
"Well, it doesn't surprise me to hear that your symptoms have alleviated, because your EEG looks perfectly normal now," he says, pulling up two graphs on the his computer, each with a wavy line. He points to the first one, which is filled with sharp spikes and declines.
"This is the EEG taken nine months ago. As you'll remember, none of your EEG's since your accident have actually recorded any seizures, but the slightly abnormal, shifting brain activity we have seen lead me to believe that you might be experiencing mild brain seizures that were imperceptible to you as a seizure event, but that left you with the debilitating headaches as an after-effect. All of your past records indicate the same, and as you know, you have never responded to any of the anti-seizure drugs you were prescribed by me or past doctors. Only pain medication alleviated your symptoms. But now..."
He indicates the lower graph, the one with a smooth, rolling line. "Now, your brain activity looks much more normal. It appears that whatever you are doing with your lifestyle changes is treating the underlying condition. That is a very good thing. As long as the measure you are taking are generally positive health measure, I say keep doing exactly what you are doing. You may very well have found a long-term solution to your pain, where conventional medicine has failed you."
I stare at the picture of my normal brain activity. Of course, I knew that what I have been doing is working, but to see it validated by my brain scan is incredible.
"How is your aphasia?"
"Better," I murmur, still looking at my gentle brain wave.
"So much better," Trace echoes. "I don't think I've seen her struggle for a word more than a couple of times in the last two months."
"Excellent. Then, I would say...keep doing what you are doing...we'll schedule scans in six months, and...call us if you need us."
"Can you email me the scans? The last one, and the new one?" I want to send them to Cam, so he can see. He was right, and I'm so glad I came in for the scans. It feels amazing to see the proof that my brain pattern has changed for the better.
"Of course." Dr. Reynolds makes a few clicks with the mouse and then rises to shake hands with us. "I'm glad to see you both looking...happy. The first couple of years of marriage are always challenging, but I know you've had an extremely hard time. You two are doing a great job, supporting each other through Ashlynn's condition and her recovery."
Trace nods and says nothing, but I just can't let it go. "I guess, we should probably update my records," I tell the doctor. "Trace and I aren't together anymore. We annulled our marriage about eight months ago."
Dr. Reynolds blinks. "Oh...okay. Just let Bailey know up front and she'll make the changes to your personal info. I'm...uuhhh," he shrugs, not knowing what he should say.
"It's all good," Trace puts a hand on my back, "We were always meant to be friends, not husband and wife. But our privacy is still extremely important to us. Can you please remind your staff that their medical ethic AND the NDA's still remain in effect?"
"Of course, of course." The doctors shakes hands with us both. "Good luck to you both. See you in six months, Ashlynn."
âââââââââââââââââ
"It's so beautiful!" Kat is laying on my bed with me, looking at the smooth sin wave on my recent EEG. "Ash, you're totally healed! I'm so fucking happy right now!" She throws the phone down, rolls over, and hugs my head. "We need to celebrate! Let's go out to dinner and then go shopping for our big triple date!"
"I just ate lunch." It's not true...it's four o'clock now, and Kat just got home from classes at her community college.
She has classes on Tuesday and Thursday, works at Marianne's office on Mondays, does school work on Wednedays, conferences with Marcy on Friday morning to manage all her Instagram branding stuff and has several events per months she hosts for Marianne's various charities, but she has officially given up her WITCH status, so she doesn't have to do all the prep work and service stuff like the other witches do. Marianne has bigger plans for Kat. As evidenced by Kat being the lead on Marianne's Loving Marcs campaign.
The big kick-off eventâthe big Art Auction at Seb Morrigan Galleries, is finally happening. Kat has been pulling out her hair trying to get Seb to finish all the photorealism painting for the show, which she anticipated happening months ago. But you can't rush art, Seb told her. And Marianne.
In fact, the triple date Matt arranged is for this event. Kat will be busy hostessing, so Matt was looking for a way to make sure interference was run between Street and Trace, who will both be attending. Sticking me with Street's friend, Mason, who won't know many people there, was a good way to keep Mason stuck to Street and me stuck in the middle between the two del Marco brothers.
So much fun. I hope I don't end up with thirty-four stitches like Kat did, when she got stuck in the middle between them.
But I do need a cocktail dress.
"Let's go to the Japanese place. You can get a Miso soup and a roll, and I can get a sushimi platter. I'm starving."
"You are always starving."
"I know," she sighs, putting her hands on her concave belly. "It's because of the marathons."
"A 10K is not quite a marathon," I tease.
She rolls over so that we are face to face. "I'm talking about the sex marathons, of course."
I roll away from her, groaning.
"Don't," she says quickly. "You always freak out when I say anything about sex. Ash...we're sisters, and I don't really have any girlfriends right now...high school is over; I'm not really close with any of the WITCHES that work for Marianne...I can't talk to Bridge or Row about sex with their brother, that's just weird..."
I sigh and turn back toward her, propping up on my elbow. "Okay, what do you want to talk about?"
She bites her lip and buries her face in a pillow, then pops back up, her amber eyes shining with mischief and joy. "I mean...it's just sooooo good. I feel like...a sex addict or something. Trace makes me feel...like a goddess. And I'm just wondering...is it always like that? I don't really...know, you know, because he was my first..." she drifts off and winces. "Did you know that?"
"No, honestly I didn't." It surprises me a little. Kat was with Colin for over a year, so I just assumed. "So...you and Trace...it was recent? Like since he's been back from tour?"
She shakes her head. "No, I jumped him early in the summer. After we made up from...you know...him hiding your fake-marriage from me. We only had sex a few times over the summer, though, because he was on tour...and it was awesome, but now it's just so...so so wonderful. He's so sweet and playful, but also, really really serious about it. Like the way he kisses me and holds me and talks to me during...it's just wildly exciting and the orgasms are nothing like...you know...taking care of it yourself. And I just want him inside me all the time...you know? Is it just because I'm new to sex that I think we have something so great?"
"Okay, okay, I get the picture," I smile at her. "So the answer to your question...in my experience...is no, it's not always like that. I think you and Trace are really special and very very lucky. Enjoy it, and trust it, because I know Trace really really loves you, and I think even though you are very young, when love is real, you can grow together and make it last."
Kat bites her lip again, "You think? Really?"
"I really do," I tell her.
She throws her arms around me. "Thank you, Ashlynn."
Then she's tugging me up and dragging me to dinner.
When our sushi arrives and Kat is stabbing it with chopsticks like it's her last meal, I get a call from Leed.
"Hey Ginger," I tease him.
"Mmmmmm...that's worse than Red. They are so many appropriate nicknames you could call me...Knee Melter, Sr. Come-Again, Sex Warlock, Spicy Dunkaroo, any of those would work..."
"You don't get to choose your own nickname. Especially since all of your ideas are terrible," I tell him. "I'll just stick with the Lion, I suppose."
"I'm sure eventually you'll be...inspired to give me a much more personal nickname..."
"Yes, I've noticed you're very sure of yourself."
"True. Especially when I'm sure of what I want."
I feel the flush creeping up my chest. Damn.This.Man. Is he always going to have this effect on me? Is this real feeling or just anxiety? I look across the table at Kat, who obviously knows from the ginger comment who is on the line. She is simultaneously chowing down and giving me the look like she expects me to relay the whole conversation as soon as it's done.
I think about what I told her. That she and Trace are special. I do believe that. I've always believed that. But they've had a lifetime to build their love. This thing with Leed is so new. I have to be so careful.
"It must be nice to be so self-assured," I murmur to Leed. "It's been a long time since I trusted myself like that."
"I know that, Sunshine. But you don't need to doubt yourself, baby. A new dawn is breaking for you. Don't you feel it?"
The flush hits my face. Everything he says makes me feel like he gets it. Gets me. Understands my fears and likes me anyway.
"Well, I'm not sure when sunrise is, but you're right, I kinda feel the earth turning."
He laughs. "You're so smart, Ash. I love the way we riff off each other."
Kat tired of me being rude, grabs my phone. "Hey Leed. How's your day going?" she asks sweetly. "Really? Well that's good news. Can you tell Ashlynn about it later? We're having dinner and then we are going shopping. Cocktail dresses." She laughs. "For our triple date, of course. Oh hush, you are going to be there anyway...it's the Loving Marcs Art Show. You are coming, right? Well, good. You'll get to see Ash in her pretty dress."
Several tables around us have vacated, and we are virtually alone in this room of the restaurant, so I don't feel weird reaching over the table and grabbing the phone back from Kat. "Sorry, Kat is so rude sometimes," I stick my tongue out at her. "You do NOT have to come to the auction, considering..."
"I was always going, but now that I know that's your date night, I wouldn't miss it for the world, Sunshine. But right now, I should leave you to you dinner. I'll call you around ten?"
"Sure," I say. "Talk to you then..."
"Ashlynn," the Lion growls like a warning call and my inner fangirl leaps to attention.
"Yes, Leed?"
"The night I met you, you were a wearing baby pink cashmere sweater. I think about that all the timeâthe way that pink looked against your creamy skin. I'm almost embarrassed to tell youâI've dreamed of you in pink."
"Is that a hint for my shopping trip?"
"Not a hint. A straight up request.You showing up at that auction in pink would make me crazy and sane at the same time. So I'm asking...will you dress for me? For us? For the memory? For the dreams? For the future? And not for your blind date?"
A lover, a fighter. A poet, a lion.
The warm flush goes internal and spreads to places it can't be seen.
I maybe shouldn't like his territorial request so much, but I do.
"What you said...makes me feel...pretty in pink already," I whisper.
He makes another deep throated sound. "Good. I'll call you later, baby."
"Okay."
I hang up. Kat's mouth is hanging open.
"Dayum." She hisses.
"You uhhhmmm...heard that."
"Of course I heard that. It got quiet in here and Leed's voice carries, and I was already focused in on it, from talking to him. What he said...it was so fucking amazing. And hot. Are you...are you really about to get busy with the Lion?"
I put my palms into my eye sockets and slowly nod my head "yes", admitting to Kat what I haven't admitted to myself.
Kat claps.
"Oh god," I moan. "Katâit's not a performance. I'm...terrified.I don't know if I can...well, if I can."
Kat slides from her place across the table and into the booth with me. She slowly pulls my hands from my face, searching, her own face crumpling in empathy. "Ash...Trace didn't tell me much, but he told me that the night he took you to Vegas...that he realized...someone had hurt you."
I just nod. Before Vegas was bad. After I left Trace was worse. But Kat is so young and innocent. I don't want to burden her with this.
"I'm so sorry," she hugs me tightly. "Maybe...maybe Leed is what you need. He's...sensitive. I bet if he knew..."
"He knows," I interject quickly.
"Oh," she breathes in relief. "Then it will definitely be okay. He'll be so good for you."
I release her. "It's just hard to take the leap."
"But if you're gonna jump, he's a pretty good guy to catch you, I think," her eyes twinkle. "They say he's amazing, Ash. Of course, Trace is just as good or betterâhe would have to be because I can't imagine it any betterâbut they say being with Leed...it's like dying, and going to heaven, and being reincarnated right underneath him."
I laugh at that. I can't help it. "Did someone actually say that?"
"Yes," she holds up a hand. "I fucking swear. I heard the fangirls talking at the Call-Out."
"Kat, I know you are trying to help, but that freaks me out too."
Her eyes go wide. "The fangirls. I'm sorryâ"
"Not the fangirls. Well, actually, yes, the fangirls do bother me, but that's not what I meant. I meant, it's a lot intimidating, knowing that a sex god wants to be with me. I'm...I'm not...there...where he is...when it comes to the sexy feelings."
Kat stares at me, uncomprehending. "Huh? You're not hot for Leed? I mean, I get it, I'm not hot for Leed, but I'm more into the bad boy type. But even I can see, Leed is fucking hot in that eccentric, sensitive artist way..."
"Leed's very hot. Very sexy," I agree. "I'm just not..."
"Bitch, please. You're smokin' hot. You've got nothing to worry about like that," Kat rolls her eyes.
"It's not my shape or my looks I'm worried about...I am anxious about explaining some scars I have, but mostly...I'm just...I'm bad at sex, okay?"
"Bad at sex?" Kat muses. "Is that even possible?"
"Yes, it's possible," I hiss. "The way you love it, can't get enough of it, have all these orgasms while Trace is sexing you? That doesn't happen for me. It's mostly awkward and I can't relax, I'm...I'm not good at being in the moment. Letting go."
Kat's face is full of sympathy. "Okay, yes, I can understand how it was like that with guys in the last few years. But remember what it was like with Cam? You loved him, he loved you. It was good, right?"
I sigh and look down at my hands. "Yeah, it was...nice. But I don't think Cam and I had the kind of...intensity that Leed brings. I'm just worried that I...that I'll disappoint him, in bed. Then it will all fall apart."
Kat is quiet for a moment. "I think you should just...take things slow. I'm sure Leed will understand. And if he's been dreaming about you since the night he met you...five years ago...I mean think about it, Ash...he's waited as long for you as Trace has for me. He's not gonna rush in now and mess it all up. Not if you are honest with him. But I also think you should tell him the whole truthâthat you've never really had great sex. Leed fucking Lawson? You think his ego could suffer being another mediocre notch on your bed post? Hell no. He'll make it his personal mission to light up your world."
Kat has a ferociously earnest look on her face, like we are discussing world peace. Trace has trained this girl to take good sex very seriously.
What in the hell is wrong with me? Seeking sex advice from my baby sister?
I lay my head on the table, laughing until I cry.
I am so fucked.
Wow. Leed in love is really upping the art of wooing with words, but he's still taking things really slow. Thoughts on his A-game? Pitched just right to win Ash or is he scaring her away with his intensity?
What about Ashlynn's interactions with Trace and Kat in this chapter. Trace seems more encouraging here, but do you feel there's an underlying feeling of doubt in his "support"? Is he doubting Ashlynn's capacity for the relationship, or Leed's? Or both?
How do you feel about Ashlynn and Kat's recovering relationship? Who seems more like the big sister, or do they trade this real depending on what they are dealing with?
Please do all the things. Vote/comment/list/follow. Thanks!