Chapter 26

Chapter 26
Ashley
The car ride to Gray's—or I guess our house now—is oddly sobering.
Not because the alcohol magically disappears from my bloodstream or something. Trust me, the tequila is still tequila-ing real hard. 
But somewhere between dropping Chelsea off and watching Alyssa sneak into her house like she's trying not to wake up her entire damn family, the chaos in my head starts settling into something quieter.
Heavier.
The kind of silence that creeps in after the music stops and suddenly you're left alone with every thought you've been trying to drown all night. 
Luther keeps glancing at me through the rearview mirror like he's debating whether I'm gonna bite his head off again if he breathes too loud. 
Honestly? 
Valid concern.
I spent half the night treating that poor man like he personally forged Gray's wedding ring with his bare hands and delivered it straight from the pits of hell. 
My cheek presses against the cool window as streetlights streak past outside in blurry smears of gold and white. Moonshadow Creek feels different at night. Softer somehow. Like the whole town is finally exhaling while I'm over here fighting for my damn life in the backseat of an SUV. 
God, I'm exhausted.
Emotionally. Mentally. Physically. 
And the worst part?
I still don't know if I'm overreacting or about to get my heart broken. 
Ugh. 

Why am I like this? 
"You gonna keep mean-muggin' the window all night?" Luther finally asks, cautious as hell. Like he's approaching a wounded animal that might lunge at any second. 
I don't even bother lifting my head. "Mind your business."
A beat of silence passes. 
Then, "Kinda hard to mind my business when you're actin' a damn fool in public." His eyes flick to mine in the mirror for half a second before jumping right back to the road. "Had the whole club starin' at your ass. Hell, if Gray had walked in and seen you swingin' around that pole? Prez would've shot the whole place up."
My face heats so fast it feels like somebody aimed a blowtorch straight at me. 
"Oh my God," I groan, dragging both hands over my face before slumping deeper into the leather seat. "Please stop talking."
Luther laughs under his breath, clearly enjoying my humiliation way too much for somebody on the club payroll. 
Asshole. 
Then his tone shifts, the amusement fading into something more serious.  
"Seriously, Ash... you gotta stop treatin' alcohol like it's some kinda cure-all. That shit'll ruin your life if you let it. Seen it happen too many damn times already."
The words settle heavier than I expect them to. 
I keep my eyes on the window, watching headlights streak past in watery smears while guilt twists low in my stomach. 
Not because he's wrong.
Because he isn't. 
"Well..." I sigh dramatically. "When you say it like that, suddenly I sound clinically unwell."
Luther snorts.
"I'm serious, though," I mumble after a second, quieter this time. 
My acrylic nail taps restlessly against my thumb while frustration coils tighter in my chest. 
"I know I probably overdo it sometimes. I just..." I exhale hard, shaking my head. "Once I start overthinking, it's like my brain won't let shit go. One bad thought turns into twenty more, and suddenly I'm acting insane over stuff that might not even be true."
The confession lingers awkwardly between us. 
God.
I hate sounding vulnerable. 
Makes my skin itch.
Makes me wanna immediately say something funny or shake my ass on a countertop to restore balance to the universe. 
"So instead you tequila-board your emotions?" Luther asks dryly.
I turn slowly, glaring at the side of his head. "Hey. Don't invent phrases during my emotional breakdown."
One corner of his mouth twitches. "I'm just sayin'."
I huff, crossing my arms tighter over my chest before letting my head rest against the seat. 
For a few seconds, neither of us says anything. 
The SUV hums softly around us as Moonshadow Creek slips by outside in sleepy patches of porch lights and dark storefronts. 
Meanwhile my brain's still stuck on that stupid black velvet ring box sitting in the top of my closet like a little landmine waiting to ruin my life. 
"I've never done this before, Luther."
The admission comes out softer than I intended. 
His brows pull together slightly in the mirror, probably because I almost never let people hear me sound uncertain. 
"Done what?"
I swallow hard. "Gone this far with somebody."
My chest tightens painfully around the words.
"Gray's the first man I've ever wanted to build something real with, and honestly?" I let out a weak laugh. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing."
And I'm terrified to lose him... whether it's because of my own issues or that bitch Christine suddenly deciding to come back and reclaim her husband.
"Yeah," Luther says after a moment, his voice quieter now. "I can tell."
I should probably fire back with some smartass comment.
Tell him to shut up. Mind his business. Maybe threaten to kick him in the throat for psychoanalyzing me without consent.
But I don't.
Because the worst part is... he's right.
I've made this whole thing painfully obvious. 
Hell, I spent the whole night unraveling in public over a ring and a photograph. At this point, even random people at Rapture probably know I'm hopelessly down bad for Grayson Bennett. 
Embarrassing as fuck. 
For a few minutes, silence settles over the car again.
Not awkward.
Just... thoughtful.
And the closer we get to the house, the tighter the knot in my stomach twists. 
Because now I have to face him. 
Sober-ish.
Fuck. 
Why didn't I grab another drink for the road?
Wait. No. 
We literally just had a whole intervention about that. 
Besides... what if I really am just being stupid?
What if Alyssa's right and this is just unresolved baggage he's too emotionally constipated to throw away?
But that tiny voice in the back of my head won't shut the fuck up.
What if I'm right?
What if Christine walked back through the door tomorrow and Gray realized I was just... temporary?
A distraction. 
A placeholder until his real life came back. 
My throat tightens painfully at the thought, and before I can stop it, tears start stinging the backs of my eyes. 
Jesus Christ.
I am seriously not about to have a full emotional collapse in Luther's car. 
I blink hard, willing the tears away before he notices. 
And before I can spiral any harder, something warm bumps against my arm. 
I glance over, confused, and realize Luther's reaching back between the seats with a McDonald's bag dangling from his hand. 
"Fries," he says simply. "Found out the hard way carbs make drunk girls cry less."
I grab the bag immediately, still sniffling a little. "When the hell did you get this?" 
Luther snorts. "Around the same time you were yellin' through the drive-thru speaker tellin' the kid on the intercom you'd show him your tits for extra fries."
He says it so flatly that for a second my brain refuses to process the words.
Then horror slams into me full force.
My jaw drops. 
"Oh my god," I groan, slapping both hands over my face. "Please tell me you're lying."
"The kid sounded real tempted too..." Luther adds thoughtfully. "Right up until he saw my face."
A wounded sound leaves my throat.
Actually wounded.
Like my soul just detached from my body and floated away in embarrassment. 
"Please never tell Gray about that."
Luther barks out a laugh. "Like I'd ever be that fuckin' stupid. Man would somehow blame me for it, then go hunt down the poor kid."
Honestly?
Fair.
Gray probably would kill a teenage McDonald's employee over me offering titties in exchange for fried potatoes. 
Which really should not sound as weirdly romantic as it does. 
I finally open the bag. 
The smell hits me instantly—hot grease and salt wrapping around my soul like emotional support in edible form. 
God bless McDonald's. 
I shoot a fry into my mouth and practically moan.
"Okay, wow," I mumble around the bite. "You're officially the best person I've ever met."
Luther chuckles, shaking his head as he turns onto our street. "Hope you regret bein' mean to me all damn day."
I grab another fry, warmth settling into my stomach for the first time all night. "Maybe a little."
"Mm-hm."
"But in my defense," I add quickly, pointing a fry at him. "I was in the middle of a tiny little Menty-B."
"You said I was built like an air fryer."
I nearly inhale the fry in my mouth. 
A choking laugh bursts out of me while I cough into my hand. "Damn," I wheeze. "Okay, that's actually kinda foul."
Luther's shoulders shake with laughter. "Kinda?"
I press a hand dramatically to my chest. "You know I didn't mean it like that, Luther."
"Air fryer is crazy work," he mutters, still looking personally victimized. "I'm makin' Thunder babysit your drunk ass next time."
I fake pout immediately. "C'mon, don't be like that. You know you love me."
Luther scoffs loud enough to rattle the damn windows. 
"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles. "You're lucky you're funny."
A grin pulls at my mouth as I steal another fry. "And hot. Don't forget hot."
He groans like I've single-handedly exhausted him for the night. "Gray's got himself one hell of a woman."
My smile falters for the tiniest second before I manage to recover it.
Yeah.
I really hope Gray still feels that way after tonight. 
Especially once I tell him the full story. 
How seeing that ring sent me into a full-blown spiral.
How I got so deep in my own head that I almost convinced myself to pack my shit and leave before he could hurt me first.
God.
The thought alone makes me feel nauseous now. 
Because as much as tonight sucked... the idea of actually walking away from Gray hurts even worse. 
A few minutes later, Luther pulls into the driveway, headlights washing across the front of the house. 
Our house. 
My stomach somersaults so violently it deserves its own Olympic medal.
The porch light glows warm against the dark.
And there Gray is—leaning against his bike with his arms folded across his chest, broad shoulders tense beneath his cut.
Even from here, I can tell he's exhausted. 
And absolutely fucking furious. 
Uh-oh. 
"You didn't tell him everything that happened at the club, did you?" I hiss under my breath as Luther parks, like Gray's somehow going to hear me through the closed windows and several feet of concrete. 
Honestly, parts of tonight are still blurry around the edges. 
But after Luther's little recap?
Yeah.
I'd very much appreciate it if everybody who witnessed my public mental breakdown could collectively delete it from their brains, please and thank you.  
Immediately. 
Luther hums, way too amused for my liking. "I didn't."
Relief barely has time to wash over me before he adds, 
"But War might've."
Fuck.
Me.
My head drops back against the seat with a soft thunk.
"Cool," I mutter at the ceiling. "Awesome. Love that for me."
I barely have time to mentally prepare myself before Gray pushes off the bike and starts stalking toward the SUV. 
Oh, he's mad mad. 
Every step radiates pure pissed-off biker president energy. 
The back door yanks open hard enough to make me jump, and his hazel eyes lock onto mine instantly. 
Sharp.
Heavy.
Burning straight into me. 
"Gray, I—"

The words barely leave my mouth before he grabs me around the waist and hauls me clean out of the seat like I weigh absolutely nothing. 
I squeal in surprise. "Gray—"
But the giant asshole doesn't even pause before throwing me over his shoulder. 
The sudden movement makes my world tilt violently, nausea slamming into me so fast I almost gag. 
"Oh my God—wait—"
One massive hand clamps against the back of my thighs while he starts marching toward the house. 
Fast.
Purposeful.
Terrifyingly calm.
My braids swing wildly while I smack at his back in panic. "Put me down before I throw up on you!"
He swats my ass hard enough to shut me up. 
"Do that," he growls, his voice rough as gravel, "and your punishment'll be worse, sweetheart."
The threat shoots straight to my core despite everything. 
Which honestly feels a little toxic of my pussy.
But at this point? We're way past me pretending I want some soft, emotionally healthy green-flag man who's gonna sit me down for a calm little conversation and send me to bed with a glass of water.
No. 
The fury rolling off Gray right now tells me exactly how the night's about to go. 
And the worst part?

My traitorous-ass body is already reacting to it.