CHAPTER THREE
Ashton
Playboy quarterback Ashton “Love ’em and leave ’em” Carmichael forced into early retirement!
I closed my Internet browser, exiting out of the shitty news source that didn’t know crap about anything. No one had forced me out of anything. And Ashton Love ’em and leave ’em? How did they come by these corny names, anyway?
Because everyone thought I’d left Bridget after the foursome…that I’d had my way with her and her friends before finding someone else. I’d gotten what I’d wanted. That’s what they all said.
Groaning, I shoved out of the desk chair and walked over to the window. The back lawn was lush, and behind it, a mass of trees that looked like they went on for eternity. I’d forgotten how green it was at home. Even in less urban areas of LA, the green was never that vivid. But then here, all I had to do was drive fifteen minutes into the city, and there would be the hustle and bustle, shopping, bars, restaurants. Fever Falls was the best of both worlds that way, and it had grown a lot over the years. What had once been a place we all wanted to escape was now a city people flocked to.
I’d been back in Fever Falls for two weeks, after spending time hiding out in LA, licking my wounds, ignoring the feeling of failure when my teammates went back to training camp. Now I was in the home I’d grown up in, with memories of my parents, of my childhood around every corner. Christ, they had a lot of photos of me…of us—swimming, hiking, laughing…loving.
My chest ached. I rubbed my hand over it as though I could massage the pain out. It had been eight years since I lost them in a car accident, the people who had chosen me as their child, who had loved me for me when others had given me away, and I hadn’t slowed down enough to let myself realize I’d missed them. Hell, I hadn’t even been back in the house until now. Eight years I’d stayed away. What had I been thinking? I paid for a cleaning service to come over and keep it clean, utilities to stay on, but I hadn’t come back.
There was another squeeze in my chest, which wasn’t pleasant at all, so I pretended it wasn’t there. Masochist that I was, I almost went back to the computer to Google myself, to see what else was being said about me—comments on social media posts and memes that I sort of hated for being funny. It would have been a riot had they been about someone else.
Don’t do it, Ash, don’t Google yourself.
So instead I took a shower, considered jacking off but didn’t. I’d spent two weeks alone; no one even knew I was back in town, which I’d liked. But I also needed to get the fuck out of the house. It was lonely as shit pouting for two weeks.
Maybe I also needed the feeling that came with being the hometown hero. I’d made it from Fever Falls to professional football, and that mattered here more than all the drama that had followed me the last few years…at least I thought it did. Please, fucking let me be right about that.
The thing was, I had two choices: I could go out that door with self-respect and my head held high, or I could stay in the house, have my groceries delivered from now on, and never go out in public again. Would that really be so bad? I had everything I could want here… No! I shook my head. What was wrong with me? I’d never run from anything in my life, and I didn’t plan to start now. Nothing? Really?
Nope, I was filing that Nothing? Really? away with other shit I ignored.
So I shot off a text that was answered almost immediately, and now I had a plan.
It didn’t take long to get dressed—jeans and a blue-gray tee with three buttons at the top. The shirt was similar in color to my eyes and tight against the muscles in my arms. A few minutes later, I was out the door, climbing into my BMW and making my way down Cherry Blossom Lane.
See? This wasn’t so hard.
You failed, Ash… Everyone’s going to look at you and think you failed.
Why were personal demons so damn hard to lose? I’d made something of myself. I’d spent eight years playing professional football, plus another two before that in college, but there would always be that annoying voice nagging me and making me feel like a failure.
Trying to distract myself, I took in the lush, green scenery as I drove.
Wyatt lived in a brick house in an affluent community in Fever Falls. I’d just stepped out of my BMW when the door opened and Holly’s blonde hair stuck around the corner. “Oh my God! It’s Ashton Carmichael!” she playfully shrieked, making me laugh.
She jogged down the porch stairs and launched herself at me. I caught her, and she held on to my neck. “It’s so good to see you!” she told me.
Holly and Wyatt had started dating not long after high school. They’d gone to the University of North Carolina together, moved back to Fever Falls together, and started their family.
The three of us had stayed in contact over the years. Holly was in real estate and helped keep an eye on the house for me. They even flew out to some of my games a few times. It felt good to hold her, but slightly awkward too. I couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking of me…of the articles and headlines that were all a mixture of truth and lies.
“It’s good to see you too,” I replied when we parted. Maybe it didn’t make sense, but I was nervous. I knew how to be the Ashton Carmichael who flew friends out for his football games. I didn’t know how to be Ashton Carmichael with my childhood friends, back in my hometown. It was as if I forgot who that person was.
“You two planning on hanging out here all day, or what?” Wyatt asked from the doorway, and my stomach immediately clenched. Wyatt was…a good man, a close friend…but also honest, sometimes to a fault, and starstruck of the life I’d lived since leaving home. “You’re lucky I’m not a jealous man. I might be worried you’d try and have an orgy with my wife.”
Because obviously he had to lead with that. I mean, forget that I’d probably have done the same thing, but it took everything in me not to slink away with my tail between my legs.
“Wyatt!” Holly swatted his arm.
“What? It’s Ash. He knows I’m giving him shit.” He turned to me. “Hey, buddy. How’s it going?” We gave each other a sort of half-bro-hug thing.
“Not too bad. I can’t stay long, though. I have a threesome scheduled in an hour.” The joke just sort of jumped out of my mouth because it was easier to go along with it than not to.
Wyatt laughed, and Holly rolled her eyes at us.
“I’m going to be in trouble having the two of you together again, aren’t I?” she asked.
“Obviously,” Wyatt replied.
When we headed into the house, Holly asked, “Seriously, though. Do you want to stay for dinner?”
“I can’t,” I lied. “I really do have something to take care of tonight.”
Continuing to hide out…or hell, maybe a private island was starting to sound like the best course of action.