The CEO and Her Driver

Chapter 26

You know that part of you that goes, wow look how much I've grown as a person? You look back at who you used to be and compare that person to who you are now, and are kinda relieved that you aren't as annoying, as crazy, or as nieve as you used to be. But when you are shoved back into the past, forced to be around someone who knew you at your worst, you suddenly feel... unchanged. The same. And suddenly you feel silly because you haven't really changed at all. You are still that annoying, crazy, and naive person that you used to be.

That was my current problem. I was staring one of my bad decisions in the face, and he was staring back, all sneers. And I was suddenly thrown back to the age of fifteen. When my parents had died and I was blind with rage and grief. When I had fallen for seventeen-year-old Ashton because he hadn't looked at me with pity like everyone else, but with admiration. Had seen my rage and taught me how to channel it into my fists.

I was suddenly struck by how good and bad memories tended to swirl together. Tender moments and painful ones quilted together into a tapestry of pain and joy. Until everything was tangled, leaving you unable to breathe. Unable to see one without the other. That was what Ashton was. Painful memories that had seen me at my worst, and knew just how to touch the most hurt parts of me with cruelty labeled as kindness.

Ashton looked me up and down taking in the sight of me with an open expression, that hurt. I hated how he saw me. All of me. "Did I miss the memo?" he asked with a hard smirk.

I blinked, unable to speak, my brain blank, all snark vanishing in a moment of shock.

Ashton looked from my clothes to Tate's and scoffed. "Matching outfits in public? You must have lost your fucking mind."

"What are you doing here Ashton?" I asked, my tone sharp, angry when I finally found the ability to vocalize. "You live in Chicago."

A slow dangerous smile spread across his face. "Keeping tabs on me, Falls?"

I winced at his use of my old last name. A name I left behind. "Better to know where your enemy lies," I replied cooly.

"Looks like you've been slacking. Moved back two months ago." Ashton's eyes snapped to Tate. "Who's Thing #2?"

"Clever. Come up with that all by yourself? Or did a five-year-old write your material?" Tate replied without missing a beat. I fought a surprised smile, refusing to look at either of them, my heart squeezing in gratitude at Tate's ability to be adorably clever.

Ashton's eyes narrowed. "What did you just say K-Mart?"

Tate started laughing, cutting the tension with ease. Like he was born to walk into a room of chaos and chuck a calming bomb of confetti inside. "I'm sorry. I feel like I was just dropped into one of those cheesy 80's movies where a heckler doesn't introduce himself. He just starts smack-talking and the audience goes, GOTCHA, that's the bad guy."

Tate held out his hand, "I'm Tate. But I will also respond to K-Mart or Thing #2 if that's easier for you."

Ashton raised a brow, looking unphased to anyone who didn't know him. But I could see that he had been thrown off. Not expecting a somewhat civil, and hilarious reaction to his total douchebaggery. It had taken the wind out of his sails. Leaving him glowering without much to say.

He made no move to shake Tate's hand, but after a beat, Ashton surprised me by actually responding with his name. "Ashton."

Tate pointed with his thumb towards the track. "You a racer?"

Ashton shook his head, his next word cautious, expecting some kind of trick. A game. "Boxer."

Tate nodded, taking in Ashton's frame. "Those are cool tattoos. The tiger is awesome. Like it could eat someone's face off."