Page 98 of Ash Storm

Ash

Ash smiled to himself as Reka’s drool fell onto his shoulder. They’d be landing soon, but until then, he was happy to let her sleep.

In truth, he couldn’t stop smiling.

And he knew he was going into battle. He understood, as he always had, that he might not make it back alive.

But he also understood something he’d never understood before—he now knew what people meant when they said they could die happy.

He could die a happy man—hell, he would die a happy man, if it turned out tonight was his time to do so—because he’d met Reka.

You just need to save her friend first.

His tongue burned with all the things he wanted to say to Reka. He wanted to tell her how grateful he was that he’d had a chance to be part of her life, even for this short a time. He wanted to tell her how much he wished that things were different—that there could be a future for them beyond this—even though that wasn’t in the cards, and that was something they both had to be okay with.

He didn’t say any of those things, of course. The less he said, the easier it would be for her to move on.

She was alive and free, and those were by far the most important things. She would go back to Chicago, back to her job, and to a family who clearly loved her and, eventually, she’d move on. She’d meet a man who would love her the way she deserved to be loved—fucking unconditionally.

Ash wondered how she would think of him, if she thought of him—hopefully fondly.

Shit.

He had to stop this. He’d never been the self-pitying kind, but now he was getting awfully close.

When he felt her wake up, he closed his eyes and pretended to sleep, his face turned towards the window, while she surreptitiously wiped her drool from her mouth.

Moments later, he felt her head towards the bathroom.

He opened his eyes and watched her butt swaying gently in those stretchy jeans.

He didn’t even blink until she disappeared behind the closed door.

“Don’t do anything stupid, man,” Griffin said, walking up.

“Jesus. We’re going to have to put a bell on you,” Ash muttered. Then, louder, “What are you now, a mind reader?”

Griffin shrugged. “I’ve seen you with her. We all have.”

“How are you feeling?” Ash said, changing the subject to a safer one.

Griffin touched his midriff gingerly. “Fine.”

“Right,” Ash said, translating Griffin’s words in his mind.

He feels like shit.

The man had been lucky, Ash knew, that the bullet had been through-and-through and hadn’t hit anything vital. But Ash had recently been shot in the shoulder—for days, the wound had oozed stuff he didn’t want to think about. Even now, six weeks later, the area still felt tender to the touch.

Griffin wasn’t fine.

Dark, Slate, and Rogue came up to them.

“The pilot says we’ll be landing in fifteen minutes,” Dark said. “The car’s already waiting to take us to Bristol. Any comments or concerns?”

“Let’s just get there quickly,” Rogue said.

“We’re moving as fast as we can,” Dark said. “What’s your concern, Rogue?”