Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Not…not this.
“But—” Ash struggled for words around his choking, halting breaths. “If I could—”
“It’s not your decision, young Master Ashton,” Brand said softly, reaching for him. “Sometimes you have to accept tha—”
Ash jerked free from the warm hand that fell on his arm. “Let me go,” he bit off—then skittered back a few steps when Brand straightened, that hand still outstretched. Ash shook his head sharply, glaring at him. “No. Just…just…fuck, just go away. I need five minutes of my life without you breathing down the back of my neck.” He couldn’t stop the vicious, hateful torrent spilling past his lips—all his confusion and hurt and frustration condensed down into piercing bullets and spitting out of him at Brand. “I haven’t had a fucking minute alone since I hired you. Just…if you’re not going to help, just fucking leave me alone.”
Ash spun on his heel, turning away. He didn’t even know where he was going—just that he was running. Running away from Brand, from that confused, almost wounded look on the supposedly impenetrable man’s face. Running away from the specter of death that hadn’t just faded; it had only followed them home, and spread its wings over the Harrington house.
Running away from himself, when he was too useless to fix anything.
“Ashton!” Brand called, raw, almost desperate, but Ash wouldn’t stop.
He just closed his eyes, closed his ears, and ran.
CHAPTER SEVEN
BRAND STOOD HELPLESSLY IN THE drive, watching as Ashton vanished down the road. Everything in him wanted to chase him—to drag him back, to hold him here, to keep him safe.
But Ashton had said no, leaving Brand locked and frozen and not even sure what had happened or why he felt as if he’d been struck a violent and bone-shaking blow.
“He has my temper,” a soft, gently accented voice said from behind him. “My fears, too.”
Brand glanced over his shoulder. Amiko Arakawa leaned in the doorway of the house, watching him with a sort of melancholy amusement, though not unkind.
“Miss Arakawa…?”
“Amiko,” she corrected wryly. “I’ve spent enough time in the West that I’m used to it.” She pushed away from the door, descending the steps on light, delicate steps to stop before him, looking up at him assessingly. “Ash runs when he’s afraid, Mr. Forsythe. Just like me. And he has quite a bit to fear, right now.”
“I…” Brand curled his fists helplessly. “I am supposed to be with him. I am supposed to be there for him.”
“And you would hold him down to do so?”
Yes, Brand realized with a sharp and sudden ferocity. If Ashton wanted him to. If that something inside Ashton that pulled on Brand was really twin to the unnamed thing coiled and waiting inside him.
Was that what this was?
Recognizing a kindred spirit, and hoping beyond hope that someone, that Ashton could understand and crave this need inside Brand, this yearning he didn’t even have the words to articulate?
He let his gaze drift toward the road, and the spot where Ashton had last disappeared. “If he would let me,” he murmured.
“That’s between the two of you,” Amiko murmured. “But it would only make me run farther…though Ash may be like me, but he isn’t me. It’s strange to know him so well, and not know him at all.” She tucked her hair back prim. “I used to come back to Calvin…before I stopped coming back at all.”
“What made you come back, before you stopped?”
“Knowing that he would always be waiting for me.”
Brand returned his full attention to the petite woman at his side. “Then…young Master Ashton needs to know that I am waiting for him?”
“I have a feeling he already does.” Amiko lingered on Brand, studying him, seeming to weigh and measure him. “…you want to be something more to my son than simply his manservant, don’t you?”
“I…” Brand struggled, fists clenching once more, fingernails digging into his palms. “I don’t…know. I have been in his employ for approximately three days. But I will say I am drawn to him. As if some part of me recognizes some part of him. Yet I know my place, and I know I must remain in it.”
“You’re blunt. Honest.” Amiko chuckled. “I should disapprove. I don’t.”
“I value honesty, Madame.”
“Then I will be honest with you.” Amiko sighed, gaze drifting away from him. “Sometimes you just…feel things. And they don’t have an explanation. They don’t follow logical sense. One day you can wake up and realize you’re in love with your best friend…or you’re out of love with your husband. You can be indifferent to someone one day, and then the light catches them just right the next day and they take your breath away, and they’re all you can think about. I could tell the moment I met you that my son consumes your thoughts—and you are so busy trying to figure out why that by the time you finally do, he’ll be gone.”