Jessie

In his darkest moment, Ashling had shown up. And made it worse. In her eyes, he saw hurt, but in her voice there was anger. He couldn’t get a word in.

At first, he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. He really didn’t know what he was supposed to be looking at when she was showing him her phone. Before he could defend or explain a damn thing, she’d said what she came to say and stormed off.

Shit. She’d stormed off into the night, alone.

Jessie should let her go. She didn’t trust him enough to listen. She immediately believed he was a cheater. He thought he could trust her with his life. But this outburst made him question everything they were to each other.

He was wrecked after Whitey’s death. They stayed for a while at the hospital, and he had no idea even what time it was when he got his distraught grandmother settled in at home. Then it was up to him to make calls. He called relatives, he called fighters, and he suppressed his own grief and shock so he could make it easier for grandma. Jessie had done so much since he got the call in Detroit he barely felt like the same person, or at least it didn’t feel like the same day.

What he hadn’t done, and now he realized it too late, was call Ashling. She wasn’t connected to his family yet or the fighters. She was this perfect, isolated part of his life, and she was waiting for him.

He started to see some of her point of view.

Jessie wanted to crawl in his bed, get some sort of sleep before dealing with whatever he needed to the next day. The next few days would be physically and emotionally draining.

He should protect himself and his heart from her temper and mistrust.

The idea of her out there, hurt, angry, and alone tipped the scales for him, though. Jessie grabbed his keys and headed out. He was going to hash this out with Ashling or have it out for good. She was not going to get the last word on this. He couldn’t stand that she had accused him of the worst.

Jessie pulled up to O’Shea’s. There was one car out front, which was unusual this time of night, and it instantly worried him.

He walked in the front door, and it was open, but no one was in the main shop. He’d never been in Ash’s rooms upstairs. She had been practically living at his place. He heard voices, so he made his way through the warehouse and kept following the sounds.

It was a woman’s voice, not Ash’s, and it was hostile.

“You see, I told you he was no good and after you only because you acted like a slut.”

“Can you please get out of here?” it was Ash’s voice that responded, but it was small and tired. Not the fire he’d heard in it when she pounded on his door. He didn’t want to barge in. This was her family, and he didn’t want to interfere. He listened as the woman berated Ash.

“I own this place, I own you. If I want to stand here all night, I will! Your decision to spread your legs for the first man who asked is why you’re in this mess. I’m so glad my Carrie has more sense.”

“This is none of your business,” Ash said. It was her Aunt Theone saying the awful things to her. Jessie couldn’t believe what he was hearing the woman say to Ash.

“I’m here to fix the business, the rest of it you can stay right out of, Aunt Theone.”

“And on that, sorry, no pay for you this week. I had to use the money for something else.”

“Something else? You pay me fifty bucks a week. Take it out of your pocket. I’m not slave labor.”

“You’re in this country at my discretion now, and don’t you forget it. Now get over this ridiculous idea that you were in love and concentrate on the store. Or I’ll dock you next week too. Foolish girl.”

Ash’s aunt Theone walked out of the apartment and saw Jessie standing there.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She spat the words at him.

“I’m here to see Ashling.”

“You’ve done quite enough.” For a second the woman appeared as if she was going to try to intimidate Jessie like she’d done with Ash. She was twice Ash’s size but still a soft, middle-aged woman who clearly enjoyed watching Ash suffer.

It made him sick. He stood straight up and set his jaw. This bitch wouldn’t be messing with Ash again.

“Listen, you pay Ash her wages, and you shut your mouth. If I ever hear you say something so vile to her again, you’ll have me to deal with.”

“I am sure I can call the police if you threaten me.” She walked by him. It didn’t appear that his threat worked as she looked as nasty as ever.

He heard her stomp down the stairs. Total bitch, saying that shit to Ash. No wonder she had thought the worst. He wondered if Ash had been dealing with this woman’s tirades the entire time she’d been in America. She’d never complained, never let on, that she was practically a slave to Theone.

The door was open to her apartment. Jessie stood in the frame of it and looked in. He was shocked. This place was tiny. And freezing. He knocked on the doorframe but didn’t get a response. He took a step in.

“Ash, Ashling, it’s Jessie. Can I come in?” he asked, though he was already in the small space. Ash looked over to what passed for a kitchen, he guessed, and there was Ash standing in the door of her bedroom.

“What are you doing here?” Her eyes were red.

“I’m here to straighten this out.”

“To say you’re sorry? I’m not buying it.” She clenched her jaw at him.

“No, I’m not sorry.”

“Well, then I’m not here.”

This wasn’t going well at all.