Broken

• Chapter 98 •

"Uh, you can wash your hands over there," I tell Ashton as I lead him into my bathroom.

He nods, and I squirm out of his way, trying to get out of the door, "I'll be outside."

What's wrong with me? Stupid strange tension that I don't understand. I roll my eyes to myself and walk over to my shelf, pulling out the envelope I had prepared yesterday. I sigh to myself. Am I seriously about to do this? Am I willing to do this? Do I really want to give away the money I've earned and saved up over the years, to this boy?

I shake my head. Yes I do. He needs it more than I do. I can swallow my pride and ask my parents for money if I need it, and I've got enough to pay for my tuition. But this is extra cash I've been planning to spend on traveling and such. I don't need it. It's not a necessity.

I genuinely care about him and the twins. I don't want him to have to work shady jobs to get by. I want the twins to be okay. I want him to be okay.

"Okay, let's get baking. I don't mean to brag but I'm the most amazing cookie-maker," he tells me as he dries his hands off and comes out of the bathroom.

"Sure. I uh—I just want to um... Give you your present," I tell him.

He seems surprised, "You got me something?"

I shrug, "Sorta."

His face softens, is he... Blushing? I grin. He eyes the envelope in my hand, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He takes it hesitantly, frowning when he looks into it.

"The fuck is this?"

"Your gift?" I smile sheepishly. I knew he wouldn't take this well.

"What the hell?" I can feel him growing more agitated by the second. Great. He's already pissed off.

"I just... Wanna help you out—"

"I don't need your help," he snaps. "I don't want your pity or your money. I'm fine."

I roll my eyes, "Ashton, stop it. You're acting like a big baby. I just want to help you—"

He clicks his tongue in irritation, "By giving me a shitload of cash? Where the hell did you come up with this money, anyway?"

I shrug, "Work, allowance. It's fine, I have more than enough for university and such, I don't need it. I found a better use for it."

"I'm not taking your fucking money, Clementine."

I groan, "Ashton, please. You don't need to be so proud, it's okay to get help sometimes. It doesn't make you weak or any less capable of earning your own money—"

"I don't need help. We're doing fine, I am earning money!"

"Yeah? What's your job, again?" I snap.

He opens his mouth, then shuts it in frustration. "That's what I thought," I hiss.

I sigh deeply and soften my voice, "Look... I just—I don't want you working those jobs anymore. Whatever it is, it's not worth it. Especially if it involves people like Hassan..."

He winces, and I know I'm right. I shake my head, "I don't care. I don't care what you used to do, I don't care what you're doing. But I want you to stop. I believe in you, I know you love your siblings. And I care about them. I care about you."

He stays silent, there's a painful look on his face. Like he's constipated. "Why?" he finally whispers.

My throat tightens. I shake my head, "Beats me."