Free Ash: A Bad Boy Romance by Lexi Whitlow

Without Borders form I had to fill out.  
    The painful part wasn't hearing what the doctor had to say. I knew that endometriosis might lead to problems having a baby.
    The painful part was everything that was missing .  
    My mother, my aunt, my country. And most of all, Ash wasn't there.  
    The cold depths of that hospital room were so much worse because I sat there, utterly alone, my name tangled up with the man who told me he had never loved me—that he never wanted me. There's an emptiness that comes with a loss like this, but it was far more profound in that moment, soul-crushing and stultifying.  
    I don't like to remember it, but the pain still haunts me. And try as I might to prevent it, Ash still brings it up.  
    He walked with me today, his body close to mine, our hands nearly touching. Every time he sees me, I see the blissful unawareness on his face. Why, after all, would he be to blame? He never said he loved me back then. He never said he wanted to stay with me, and when he agreed to go with me to Syria, the decision seemed forced.  
    When I speak to him, anger is all that comes out—but when I come home and close my eyes, I feel something entirely different. The love, the longing, pervasive and always with me. Even in my darkest moments, even spread out over three years, I never stopped loving him.
    The thought hits me like a poisoned arrow, piercing my heart and sending a deeper ache throughout my body. The sensation starts to pound in time with the undying ache where the doctors in Damascus removed my left ovary, taking a piece of me away. I was so resigned to it then, because Ash had already removed something too, even if it wasn't tangible. The deep and horrible loss of my fertility seemed like a natural consequence.  
    Maybe it turned out I mourned the surgery more than I ever mourned the loss of Ash. When I saw him again today, it was like no time had passed at all. Old wounds tore open, and I felt like a bloody mess in his presence. The only defense I had was my irritation, the way I could cut him down with my words.  
    How dare he claim he'd contacted me? But the emails were all there, copied and dated. And the lawyer had shrugged like an idiot.  
    Just give me a chance.  
    I must be an idiot too. Because I want this chance too. I want that day to be all wrong. If I could erase it from my memory like it never happened, covered up with a second chance, then maybe these old scars would fade.
    But there it is again, the interminable pulsing at the bottom left of my abdomen. It feels like a nail catching over and over again, like the worst day of my life is rewinding and repeating over and over again.  
    Outside, it starts to rain, gentle drops falling over the tin roof of my mother's inn. It's three in the morning, and I'm as alone as I always am.
    It's stupid. It's foolish. But as the raindrops fall, I start to wonder what the harm is in letting Ash into my life again. As a friend, as a fantasy. Until the separation ends, at least.
    Maybe I'll let him walk me home again tomorrow, too.
    It couldn't do any harm.  

CHAPTER NINE

    Three Years, Four Months Ago

    I still don’t have a plan, and the clock is ticking. I’ve been able to hold Cullen off bit by bit. And apparently Bianca saw to her own safety for another few weeks by paying up five thousand.  
    But things are desperate, and Summer is getting scared.  
    I lie awake, thinking, as she sleeps next to me. Since the night she saw her aunt crying, she’s been here. I’ve distracted her as well as I could with what I have to offer—but both of us know that Cullen’s vendetta against Bianca is coming to a head.  
    Before all of this, Summer thought it was all fun in a way—visiting the mafia man in his fucked up world, getting goosebumps while we watch her aunt’s bar. Not that she hasn’t been scared—any person in their right mind should be. But it’s like it hadn’t occurred to her that her life could contain actual