Chapter 52: Twisted Hate: Chapter 52

I took that Friday and Monday off from the clinic and returned to the office Tuesday morning, more confused than ever. I’d spent the past few days agonizing over Josh, but I still didn’t know what to do about us. The more I thought it, the more my head hurt, so it was nice to settle into the mindless rhythm of work again. At least it took my mind off my utter mess of a personal life.

Luckily, there’d been an influx of new cases while I was out, and they kept me busy well into the afternoon until the bells over the front door chimed.

We were closed for lunch, so it had to be a staff member…or a volunteer.

My heart jumped in my throat when I turned and saw Josh walk in, still wearing his scrubs and sneakers from the hospital.

Everyone else was eating out or in the kitchen, so it was just the two of us.

“Hi.” Somehow, the word made it past the parched desert of my throat.

“Hi.” Josh stopped next to my desk, his eyes drifting to the bandaged cut on my forehead. A visible swallow worked its way down his throat. “How’s the cut?”

“Better. I’ll survive.” I mustered a smile. “Shouldn’t you be resting right now?”

Now that he was closer, I could see the faint purple smudges beneath his eyes and the lines of exhaustion bracketing his mouth.

“I should. But I wanted to see you.”

A swarm of butterflies soared through my stomach and left a trail of tingles in their wake. “Oh.”

God, I sounded like an idiot, but I’d lost all ability to function properly.

Josh’s lips curved with a faint hint of bitterness. He’d kept his promise to give me space to think, but the air between us hummed with so many unspoken words I was drowning in them.

Frustration welled in my stomach. What was with me? Why couldn’t I let go and get back together with him the way I wanted? I wasn’t upset about his hurtful words. I understood why he lashed out the way he had, but something held me back.

Josh opened his mouth like he wanted to say something else, but after a beat, he closed it and walked to his desk. We worked in tense silence until my phone rang and interrupted my pitiful attempt to focus on the clinic’s latest case.

Surprise coasted through me when I checked the caller ID and saw who was calling. We’d exchanged numbers at Bridget’s wedding, but I hadn’t expected to actually hear from him again.

“Hi, Asher,” I said after I picked up.

The sound of Josh typing fell silent.

“Hey, Jules.” Asher Donovan’s smooth drawl flowed over the line. “Sorry for calling out of nowhere, but I’ll be in town tomorrow for a last-minute trip and wanted to see if you’re free for drinks. I’d love to catch up.”

“I…” Asher was gorgeous, charming, and a world-famous athlete. I should be all over his invitation, especially considering how much I’d enjoyed our brief bonding over a certain British royal’s drunken shenanigans at Bridget’s wedding.

But in that moment, I wasn’t thinking about drinks with the man magazine deemed The Most Eligible Bachelor in Sports. Instead, I was trying my damn hardest not to look at the man sitting less than ten feet away.

The heat from Josh’s stare seared into my skin and distracted me so much I wasn’t even starstruck by the fact I was on the phone with Asher Donovan.

The universe really was throwing everything at me at once, good and bad.

“It’s not a date,” Asher added. “Just two friends hanging out. And…okay, you’re the only person I know in the city. But I’d hang out with you regardless.”

“Good to know.” I laughed. “But tomorrow…” Honestly, all I wanted was to sleep my nights away like I’d had the past week, but maybe going out would do me some good. It’d make me feel more human and less like a sad shell trudging through the motions of life. “Okay. Let’s do it. The Bronze Gear at six? It’s a bar downtown.”

The heat consuming my left side erupted into an inferno. Despite the frigid air conditioning and my flimsy silk blouse, sweat trickled between my breasts, and it took every ounce of willpower not to sneak a peek at Josh.

“Perfect,” Asher said. “I’ll be in disguise. Baseball cap, blue shirt.”

“Does that actually work?” I doubted a mere baseball cap could disguise him. His face wasn’t one people forgot.

“You’d be surprised. People see what they expect to see, and no one expects to see me hanging out at a D.C. bar on a Wednesday night. See you soon, Jules.”

“See you.”

When I hung up, the silence was so oppressive I swore I could hear the rush of my blood through my veins.

“Asher Donovan?” Josh’s casual question was at odds with his tight voice.

“Yes. He’ll be in town and wants to grab drinks.”

More silence.

Why was it so freaking hot in here? I lifted my hair off my shoulders and finally glanced to my left. Josh’s jaw clenched so tight I was surprised it didn’t crack.

My heart skipped a beat. “It’s not a date,” I added softly.

I didn’t know why I felt the need to clarify that. Josh and I weren’t dating anymore, and my meetup with Asher was platonic. Still, a frisson of guilt snaked through me at his granite expression.

“Maybe you don’t think it’s a date.” A grim smile touched Josh’s mouth before he turned back to his computer. “But trust me, Jules. Any man would be an idiot to let you go if there was even a chance with you.”

“I figured I’d drop by D.C., pick some poisonous mushrooms, and use them to concoct a special pre-game brew,” Asher said. “What do you think?”

“Sounds great.” I fiddled with my straw.

As promised, Asher and I met up the next night for drinks at The Bronze Gear. Normally, I’d want to hear all about his latest feud with another major soccer star, but I was too distracted to pay much attention to our conversation.

What was Josh doing right now? Sleeping, probably. He’d showed up again at the clinic that day after another long shift, despite Barbs’s insistence he go home. He’d looked ready to collapse at his desk.

Asher’s laugh dragged me out of my thoughts. “Part of me is offended you’re so blatantly ignoring me.” His tone was drier than the gin in his glass. “Another part is intrigued.”

Heat warmed my cheeks. Admittedly, I was awful company right now.

I also bet Asher didn’t get ignored often, and not only because he was a Ballon d’Or winner. If he weren’t such a talented soccer player, he’d make a killing as a male supermodel.

Sculpted cheekbones, green eyes, dark hair…and I felt nothing except my earlier frustration over my situation with Josh.

I pissed myself off sometimes for more reasons than I could count.

“Your ego can take it,” I said lightly, trying to shake off my melancholy. “Though I’m surprised the cap is actually working.”

Asher had pulled his baseball cap so low it shadowed half his face, and his plain T-shirt and jeans were a far cry from the stylish outfits he usually wore. Thick stubble covered his usually clean-shaven cheeks and jaw. Still, I was surprised by how many people passed by us without sparing him a second glance.

He was right. People saw what they expected to see.

“Why are you in D.C., anyway?” I asked, switching subjects. “You said you were in town for a last-minute trip?”

“Can’t say, or my agent will kill me.” Asher finished his drink. “But I have several meetings in the U.S., and one of them is in D.C.”

I was surprised his U.S. trip wasn’t all over the news. Then again, I didn’t follow sports updates, so maybe it was, and I just didn’t know.

“Does it feel weird, being so famous?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine having my every move dissected.

“It was, but I got used to it.” He flashed a sardonic smile. “Can I tell you a secret?” When I nodded, he said, “I never wanted to be famous.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Come on.”

Some celebrities shied away from the spotlight, but Asher seemed to thrive in it. He was always dating the latest supermodel, driving the fastest car, and attending the hottest party.

“It’s true.” He leaned back in his chair. “There’s a certain liberation to being a so-called nobody. No expectations, no pressure, just me and my love for the game. For the longest time, I held myself back because I was afraid of hitting the big time. Me, a nobody from Berkshire, playing for the biggest clubs and against the best players in the world? I didn’t deserve it. But I love football—or soccer, as you Americans call it—and that mindset affected my game. I didn’t even realize until my old coach called me out on it. And now…” Asher shrugged. “Like I said, I got used to the fame. But more importantly, I can play to my potential. I just had to get out of my own way.”

The words echoed in my head and filled my lungs with sudden, icy realization.

Maybe the reason why I—

“Enough about me,” Asher said. “Let’s talk about why that guy is staring at me like he wants to rip my head off for the past fifteen minutes.” He tilted his chin toward someone over my shoulder.

Had someone finally recognized him?

I turned, and my realization gave way to shock when I saw Josh sitting a few tables over. I had my back to the door, so I hadn’t noticed him arrive..

Instead of looking away, Josh held my gaze, his eyes dark and his jaw lined with tension. The air suddenly crackled with an electricity that lit up my nerves.

“He’s the guy from the wedding, right?” Asher drew my attention back to him. Amusement glowed in his eyes. “Boyfriend?”

“Not really.”

The amusement deepened. “It’s complicated, then.”

“You could say that.” Complicated, messy, and one of the few beautiful things I’d experienced in my life.

Even though I was no longer looking at Josh, the sparks from our two seconds of eye contact remained.

Any interest I had in continuing drinks with Asher dissipated into dust. “I’m so sorry, but—”

“Go.” He waved me off. “I had a feeling our night would be cut short. And I’m ninety percent sure my cover is blown, so save yourself while you can.”

I followed his gaze and spotted two men beelining toward us, their eyes fixed on Asher with the enthusiasm of overzealous fans.

“Good luck.”

Asher laughed. “Thanks for that, and for keeping me company for a few hours. If you’re ever in Manchester, let me know.”

“I will.”

I got out of there right as the men reached our table.

“Are you Asher Donovan?” one of them asked. “I’m a huge fan! That goal you scored against Barcelona last year…”

I shook my head, hoping Asher didn’t get mobbed once figured out who he was. But like he said, he was used to it. I had a feeling he could take care of myself.

I, on the other hand, had a bigger issue to deal with.

Instead of approaching Josh, I exited the bar and lingered on corner of the sidewalk outside. The Bronze Gear was getting more crowded, and I didn’t want to hold a conversation in there.

As expected, Josh appeared less than a minute later.

“You’re not very subtle,” I said. Despite the thick summer heat, goosebumps peppered my skin.

“I’m not here to be subtle, Red.” He stopped in front of me.

Warmth dripped from the air and into my veins. “What are you here for, then?” I attempted to sound lighthearted despite the flutters in my chest. “Are you stalking me, Josh Chen?”

“Are you trying to forget me, Jules Ambrose?”

I gulped at his dark tone.

“Because if you are…” Josh took another step toward me. “It’s not going to work.”

The flutters went wild. “You have an awfully high opinion of yourself.”

A hard smile cut across his face. “I promised I’d give you all the time you needed, and I will. But I’m not going to sit back while you date other guys, Red.”

“I told you it wasn’t a date.”

“And I told you I don’t share. Not when it comes to you.” Josh’s eyes burned into mine. “I don’t give a fuck if he’s a multimillionaire and plastered on every magazine in the world. He could be the King of fucking England, but he’ll never give you what I’m willing to give you.”

The goosebumps multiplied. “What’s that?”

“Everything.” He’d closed the distance between us until our mouths were only centimeters apart. I stood my ground, but the electricity from earlier returned in full force and buzzed through my veins. There were a handful of other people on the sidewalk. They weren’t close enough to hear us, but it didn’t matter anyway. The rest of the world didn’t exist when Josh was near me. “My heart. My soul. My . What do you want me to do, Jules?” His voice splintered into something jagged and painful. “Do you want me to fucking beg? Say the word, and I’ll be on my knees.”

Moisture gathered behind my eyes. I shook my head, my chest aching.

Josh’s question from Bridget’s wedding echoed in my head. I didn’t have the answer then, but I had it now.

I was afraid of me.

Even when I started falling for Josh, part of me knew we wouldn’t work out as long as I was keeping a secret from him. But now that nothing stood in our way, I was terrified—of being hurt, of not being enough, and of actually being loved when I didn’t deserve it.

I wasn’t the little girl from Ohio anymore, but some things were so ingrained from childhood that they became a part of us without us even knowing. After a lifetime of being unwanted, I had no clue how to handle someone who wasn’t willing to walk away.

Maybe it was time I learned.

“Promise me we’re real,” I whispered.

I could drag this out, make triple sure he wouldn’t break my heart again. But I was so of resisting and sabotaging myself. After years of swimming against the current, it was time to sink into something I wanted for once, no matter where it took me.

And at the end of the day, no grand gesture matched that of making a promise…and keeping it.

Josh cupped my face with his hands. “I promise.” A tiny smile tipped his lips, and his eyes searched mine with cautious hope. “You’re stuck with me forever, I’m afraid.”

His words sank into my skin and filled every inch of me with their warmth.

After one last beat of hesitation, my lips parted in tentative invitation.

Relief exploded across Josh’s face before he took it, his mouth moving over mine in a deep, almost desperate kiss that made my toes curl. I melted against him, savoring the taste and feel of him again.

My chest loosened, and every nerve ending sparked with awareness.

Some kisses you felt in your bones. This one I felt in my soul.

“Twelve days, eight hours, and nine minutes. I spent every second thinking of you.” Josh’s lips brushed against mine as he spoke. “I thought I knew what I wanted before. Becoming a doctor, chasing the next high. Being the most popular, most liked person in the room. I thought those things would make me happy, and they did. Temporarily. But you…” He rested his forehead against mine. “You’re the only thing that could make me happy forever.”

I choked out a half laugh, half sob. “Careful, Chen. Keep saying things like that, and I might never let you go,” I said, mirroring his words from our first date.

That beautiful dimple of his appeared in all its glory. “I’m counting on it.” He curled his hand around the back of my neck and pressed another, softer kiss to my lips. “In case it’s not clear, I fucking love you, Jules Ambrose, even when you drive me crazy.

when you drive me crazy.”

“That’s because you’re a masochist.” I couldn’t contain my smile. “It’s okay. I love you anyway.”

It was my first time saying those words to a guy, but they didn’t feel strange. They felt like they’d always been there, just waiting for the right time and right person before they revealed themselves.

Josh’s hand stilled. “Say that again.”

“I love you,” I breathed, body thrumming, heart so full it could burst at any second.

A small grin blossomed on his face. “Damn right. I’m pretty fucking lovable, unless I’m being an ass…which I was for the week after you told me about the painting.” He glanced at the group of teenagers staring at us, and I realized we were starting to attract attention from passersby. “But maybe we should continue this somewhere more private.”

My apartment was only two blocks away. Stella wasn’t home, and we barely made it into my bedroom before Josh kissed me again and sank to his knees before me.

“Twelve days, twelve orgasms.” He pushed up my skirt, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of my thighs. “That seems fair, don’t you think?”

A small fire kindled in my lower belly. “What—”

My question died an ignoble death when he pushed my panties aside and ran his tongue over my clit.

I fisted Josh’s hair as he licked and sucked until my orgasm ricocheted through me. I didn’t get a chance to come down from my high before he delved in again, and soon, I was little more than a gasping, boneless mess. If it weren’t for his strong hands bracing my hips and holding me up, I would’ve already collapsed.

But despite the orgasms rocking through me and the thick scent of sex in the air, what we were doing didn’t feel like sex.

It felt like love.