Page 10 of Hash

She took what I said wrong, but I didn’t correct her.

It’s better this way.

I rather have her hate my fucking guts for the rest of her life than have something happen to her because my dark touched her light.

I saw her tears.

I didn’t trust myself to open my mouth as soon as I saw them because I knew if I did, I would be doing everything in my power to make them stop.

She doesn’t need a man like me.

Throwing a leg over my bike, I stare at her house.

I know I crushed her.

She’ll be okay.

I start my bike, the engine roaring to life, echoing throughout her quiet cul-de-sac as I pull out my phone and do the one thing my brothers would have my ass for.

I block her number.

Chapter

Five

AISLING

Sixteen Months Earlier

“Okay. You’re starting to freak me out,” Frankie says, crossing her arms as her eyes narrow as she studies me.

Normally, I’d have something smart to say back to her because she’s always worrying about something. Frankie is the conspiracy theory queen. You give her an inch, and she will run a marathon with it, leaving you so far behind that you don’t even understand how she got to the end in the first place.

Except today, I actually agree with her.

And that’s fucking scary.

“I’m late.” I finally spoke the words that had been floating around in my head since last week when it finally clicked.

I’ve always been a pretty regular girl, sometimes being off by a day or two, but the red dragon always appears within the timeframe of when it should. The past two months haven’t been the easiest since Hash walked out of my life. I didn’t reach out to him, and he didn’t reach out to me.

Why would he?

I don’t belong in his world.

It still crushed me. Part of me hoped he would have come back and apologized. Said he didn’t mean it. The more days passed and that didn’t happen, the more I cried myself to sleep every night. Missing something you never truly had is insane. He was never mine, and I needed to accept that.

Frankie got me through it. I would probably still be holed up in my depression room littered with double cheeseburger wrappers without her.

“How can you be late? Your next client isn’t even here.”

“No, I’m late, Frankie.” I emphasize, my eyes widening, hoping she will pick up what I’m putting down.

A brow raises as she looks at me confused. “I’m not under — oh, shit. You mean you’re late late.” Her mouth drops open in shock as her eyes about pop out of her head.

“Yup.” What else is there to say? At this point, I’m living in my own world of denial.

“Have you taken a test?”