by A. J. Logan
Elliot and Asher chat for a few minutes before Asher looks to me. “Let’s go climbing.”
Gripping my fork, I look to my plate. “It’s raining.”
“Psh, I tried telling him you shouldn’t climb in the rain.” Elliot pops a grape in his mouth looking to me. “It was pouring the last time we climbed at Chappell Canyon.”
The fork falls out of my hand, clanging loudly on the plate as I look to Asher. “You’ve climbed Chappell?”
Asher doesn’t answer, but Elliott chimes in, “Obsessively, and he dragged me along all summer.”
Glaring at Elliott, Asher cuts him off. “There’s a climbing gym just a few miles away from here.”
“No.” Nothing has changed there. I still don’t trust him. And something is unsettling about him climbing Chappell. That’d always been me and my dad’s favorite climb. We’d spend the morning scaling up the side of the mountain, then hike down the other side while planning a new path for the next climb. The next climb was supposed to be on my birthday.
My stomach drops as I push away from the table. “I’m going to head back to Nathan’s.”
Victoria waves her hands without lifting her head from the table as Elliott continues eating.
“Hey,” Asher lightly grasps my arm, spinning me to face him. “You don’t have to run off.”
“I just need to change clothes.” I pull at my dress. Even after showering, I don’t feel clean wearing the same clothes from last night.
“I’ll drive you.”
“It’s not that far.”
“It’s raining.”
“I know.”
“Quinn,” he rubs his hands on his jaw, “I’ll drop it. We don’t have to go climbing.”
“It’s fine.”
“Then come back when you are done.”
I nod before walking out the house. The sandals I wore last night dangle from my fingers as I walk barefoot down the rain-soaked sidewalk. My dress is soaked by the time I get back to Nathan’s. Walking through the front door, my wet feet slip on the marble floor.
Peeking around the corner, I spot Candace, Nathan, and Tanner having breakfast. A pang of jealousy hits me as they look like the picture-perfect family while I stand like a hot mess, dripping wet, not missed, unimportant to their equation.
Candace spots me, stands from the table, and walks to the foyer. Her eyes look to my soaked dress as she asks, “Are you okay?”
“Oh, yeah, just got caught in a little downpour on the way home.”
She hesitates for a moment before speaking, “How was the party?”
“It was good.” I head towards the stairs when she says my name.
“I know you’re eighteen, and I’m a little late, but I want you to be safe—”
“Stop.” I interrupt her. I knew where the conversation was headed before she’d even started speaking. I recall how excruciating it had been to have a sex talk with my dad, so this one isn’t awkward, it’s irritating. “You are late. Dad had the talk with me when I was eleven. And I’ve been on birth control for years. Painful periods … but you wouldn’t know that either because you weren’t around.”
I turn to head up the stairs, but Candace never knows when to stop pushing. I guess I did get something from her after all.
“Be safe with your heart too,” she says as I turn to look at her. “Asher’s world is far different than the one you’ve known.”
A pain stabs my heart. I already know it isn’t safe, but I’m now a part of the unwelcome toxic world. “The other part of the motherly talk is where you’re supposed to tell me that no guy will ever be good enough for me, not that I’m not good enough for him and his world … even though apparently you belong in this world.”
“That’s not what I meant, Quinn.”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t need that parental talk from you either. Dad had that talk with me too.” Hurrying away, I slip into my room, hoping she gives up the motherly advice.
Stripping off my dress, I twist the faucet as I step into the shower, standing under the hot water as it pelts my skin. My thoughts are jumbled. I stand unmoving under the spray until my fingertips are wrinkled.
Stepping out of the shower, I wrap a towel around me as I walk into my room to find Asher sitting on the edge of my bed.
“What are you doing in here?” I clutch the towel tighter around me, knowing he has seen everything hidden beneath the towel, but Candace is downstairs, and I’ve already had enough sex talks for the day. Hurriedly, I step into my closet, pulling on a tank and pair of shorts before I step back out into my room to find Asher patiently perched on my bed, appearing extremely comfortable.
“I couldn’t wait. I followed you and was going to sneak into your shower before you got up here.” He hooks a finger under my chin, bringing my eyes to his. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I clear my throat, hoping to keep emotion out of my voice. “Candace and Nathan are downstairs.”
“Nathan let me in, sort of.” He grins at my confused expression. “He was standing under the back patio where I climb up to reach your balcony. He told me he just wanted to remind me that there are forty-two cameras covering the outside of the house.”
Clenching my eyes shut, I shake my head. “Great.”
“Everything is fine. He gave me a lengthy lecture and told me to let you know you could’ve done worse,” Asher laughs as he pulls me onto his lap. “He also said he still wouldn’t go easy on me because no one will ever be good enough for you.”
Tucking my face against his chest, I hide from him. I can’t contain my emotions—those are the words my dad should’ve told him. The words Candace should’ve said. And the words I’m having a hard time believing.
Stroking his hand down my spine, he leans back, trying to meet my eyes, but I bury my face deeper against his chest. He shifts, throwing the blankets back as he lays me in the bed, then moves to slide beside me, pulling me to him as he covers us up with the blanket. I feel his lips kiss my hair as he whispers something I can’t make out because I’m crying. Asher being so kind is messing with me in addition to everything else.
His hand glides rhythmically across my back as we lay there in silence until I drift off to sleep, wondering when the next blow will come because I feel safe and secure in his arms, but I know it won’t last. I don’t belong in this world, and no matter how much I try, I never will.
47
The last week has been bliss. I’m still in disbelief. After my meltdown, I’d truly expected Asher to retreat, pull away from me like some guy who gets weirded out by girl emotions. Instead, he’s been kind and caring.
Victoria had made comments about how “less of an ass” her brother was being too. She even quit complaining after a couple of days when Asher, Elliot, and Wade started sitting with us at lunch. Well, mostly—she still seems to have some hostility towards Elliot. And if I’m reading him right, I’d say Asher is more aware of what’s going on between his sister and his best friend than they realize. I’ve avoided bringing up the topic because I won’t betray Victoria’s trust, so I just steer clear of the situation altogether.
It’s hard to not think about it right now as I watch Elliott dance across the smooth wood of the bowling lane before falling to his stomach, moving his arms like he’s swimming … which he does every single time he makes a strike.
When Elliott mentioned beating Wade at bowling, I’d thought he meant playing a video game or something. No, there’s a bowling alley in the Hastings’ house. A freaking bowling alley.
There’re four lanes in total, but we’re only playing on two of them, teaming against each other. Wade had been less Asher-watchdog-like this week too. He’d even stopped cackling in shop class when Grant tried to talk to me.
I’m so involved in the game that I don’t notice the redhead staring at me until she calls out Victoria’s name. It hadn’t been a question of if but when I’d see Monica Hastings again. I’d hoped it would be less unpleasant than our initial meeti
ng where she’d made her disdain towards me clear. And that had been before I was involved with her son. I won’t call it dating, but we are more than buddies hanging out on a Thursday night, but she currently looks like she doesn’t approve either way.
She steps to where we’re playing, saying something to Victoria out of my earshot before looking to me. “Quinn. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
Asher exchanges a confused look with me before turning to his mom. “I hadn’t realized you two have already met.”
“Oh, we haven’t,” Monica catches her slipup. If she tells him how we met, she’d have to tell him where, which is suspicious under the best of circumstances. “I’m just assuming since Candace mentioned you’ve been hanging out a lot with Quinn lately.”
Ugh. Yeah. She’s lying. I know she hasn’t talked to Candace because Candace made a point to tell me that Monica isn’t the kindest person. That news hadn’t surprised me after our run-in and after meeting her son. I know firsthand how unkind a Hastings can be.
“Asher, your father wants to see you in his office.” Asher gives her a tight nod before turning to tell me he’ll be right back. “Oh, why don’t you bring Quinn with you. I’m sure your father would love to meet her too.”
Why do I feel like I’ve just been thrown to the wolves? According to the look on Asher’s face, I know I’m not off base.
“Maybe next time,” Asher says as he glares at his mother.
“Don’t be silly, Asher. Unless there’s some reason you don’t want your father to meet her.”
It’s a challenge. She’s forcing his hand, which makes me even more concerned as to why she wants me to meet Victor.
Asher looks to me. “Do you want to come with me?”
“Yes.”
I’m not going to refuse to meet him. Maybe that’s her plan. I don’t know. All these people have so many ulterior motives, I don’t even think they know which way is up. All I can think to do is face whatever this is head-on.
Clasping my hand, Asher leads me down several hallways before we stop in front of a metal door. Taking a deep breath, he knocks before a deep voice hollers for us to come in.
The door pushes open as a tall man, resembling Asher stands from behind a desk. I can see similar features, shared between father and son, but Victor’s hair is graying and heavy lines circle his eyes, marking years of stress.
“Dad, this is Quinn. Quinn, my father, Victor.”
He moves around the desk and I step forward to meet him, extending my hand as he firmly grips it. “Quinn, my dear. I’ve heard a great deal about you from Nathan. I feel like I already know you.” The words might be meant as cheerful, but his tone comes off as menacing to say the least.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Hastings.” That’s the brightest response I can muster since I’m intimidated by Victor’s mere presence.
“Oh, call me Victor. I’ve been wanting to meet you, but my son has been hiding you away it seems.” He directs an unnerving stare in Asher’s direction.
Asher tenses beside me, a challenging look passing between the two men. “I’ll be upstairs in a few minutes, if you want to wait with Victoria until I get done with my dad?”
He’s asked it in the form of a question, but I understand there isn’t an option. He wants me out of his father’s presence as much as I’m ready to flee it.
“Sure, I’ll wait up there with her. It was nice to meet you, Victor.” I give him a forced smile as he nods in my direction. I walk out of the office feeling like I’m abandoning Asher, but I pull the solid, very heavy metal door closed behind me as I exit the office, running through the hallways to make my way back upstairs as quickly as possible, an unsettling feeling overwhelming me. Monica Hastings I can deal with. Victor Hastings is a different, disturbing beast altogether.
I’m out of breath by the time I return, finding Victoria and Elliot bickering while Wade has his nose in his phone. No one pays me any mind, so I sit, waiting for Asher to return, unable to focus on anything but the door I can’t wait for him to walk back through.
It’s less than ten minutes before Asher returns, but it feels like it’s been hours. He walks over to take a seat and pulls me onto his lap, looping his arms around me, holding tighter than he had earlier.
“What was that about?”
“Just some school stuff.” His words are nonchalant, but his body is rigid, tense beneath my touch. “When did you meet my mom?”
“What?” I ask, stalling to try and think of what to say.
“I know she doesn’t talk to Candace. They haven’t been friends in years.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe Candace is just insisting on tormenting everyone with safe-sex talks.” I attempt to joke as it falls flat, Asher’s accusing eyes show no humor. “I don’t know, Asher. That’s the first time I met your mom.”
He shifts, turning so I’m straddling him in the chair, his fingers entwine in my hair as he grips, bringing my lips against his as he speaks. “I told you not to lie to me.”
Rocking against him, I feather my tongue over his lips, distracting him as much as I can because I don’t want to lie to him. There are enough lies around us without us lying to each other too.
“Get a room!” Elliott hollers.
Victoria tells him to shut up, but suggests we go to Asher’s room so her eyes stop burning.
Smiling, I give him a quick smooch before leaning my forehead against his.
His fingers are still tangled in my hair, holding on, our eyes are locked together. He whispers, “You’re supposed to hate me.”
Closing my eyes, I tease, “I do.”
“You’re lying again, Weakling.”
“I hate that name.” My hands grip his shirt as I lean back, giving him the best angry pout. “Stop calling me that.”
“I’m not calling you that.” His hands drop to my hips, squeezing before he moves his arms around me, snaking his hands up my back to pull me to him. “You’re my weakness.”
Before I can react, his mouth covers mine. The kiss is tender, patient, and generous as it pulls me under. I feel every bit of a weakling as his words penetrate my mind, seeping into my heart. I try to hold on to this moment with everything I have left.
48
“We should probably start getting ready.” Standing from the lounge chair, I tug down my tank before rubbing my hands down my jean shorts.
A groan comes from Victoria as she sits up. “I say we just go catch a movie and bail on the party.”
“Is it the party or the host that’s the problem?” I tease, knowing she isn’t happy that the party is at Elliot’s house. Can’t say I’m thrilled either after my last experience there. “A movie does sound better.”
The back door opens and Nathan steps outside, turning to look back in the house before lethargically walking to us with a tight expression on his face.
“Quinn, can you come inside for a sec?”
I hold my breath when I spot Candace standing near the door with Detective Taylor behind her, as well as someone else I don’t recognize.
“What’s going on?” I blink rapidly as Victoria stands, moving next to me.
“Let’s just go inside and talk.” Nathan lightly presses his palm to my back, but I pull away, my eyes on the detective as he begins walking in our direction.
“Hi, Quinn,” Detective Taylor says as the guy next to him extends his hand, introducing himself as Detective McCoy.
“Where’s Detective Davis?”
“He’s no longer on the case. McCoy is assisting me with it now.” Taylor steps back, motioning to the house. “Let’s go have a seat and we can talk.”
“What’s going on?” My voice is shaky as Nathan moves back beside me. He slowly reaches over, pressing his palm to my back.
“Quinn.” The agony in Nathan’s voice pierces my heart. Then I notice Candace’s tear-stained cheeks. “It’s about your dad. Let’s go inside.”
Jerking away from him, I step back as I see anxious, pity
ing eyes on me.
No.
This isn’t real.
Detective Taylor takes a slight step forward. “Quinn, I’m sorry. We’ve located your father’s remains.”
Remains? No. Remains means … “No!” The scream that leaves my body doesn’t sound like my own voice. “No. No. No.”
Nathan moves towards me as I throw my arms up, shielding myself from him and everyone’s sympathetic looks.
I bend forward, my hands clutching my chest, heaving as I try to fill my lungs with air.
No. I can’t do this again. I can’t lose him all over. My dad is not dead.
Spinning, I run to run away.
Away from here.
I need my dad.
49
Stretching, I hang on to the rough stone beneath my fingers. I don’t remember the drive here, but I know this is where I’d intended to go. My fingers grip the unforgiving surface as my toe finds the next placement that I know is there. I will myself higher up the side of Chappell Canyon.
My dad is dead.
Gone.
My arm slaps against the harsh rock as I hoist myself up another notch.
My dad is never coming back.
Reaching up with a hard push, I go to grip the next hole that I know is waiting, but my fingers miss the mark, and my chest slams against the unrelenting surface. The air is evacuated out of my lungs just as it had been at the news that my dad’s remains were found.
“Quinn!”
I look down to see Asher scaling the side of the mountain as he yells, frantic for me to stop.
It’s at least fifty feet down. Numbness is taking effect on my limbs, but I don’t want to stop climbing. Going back is not an option. My dad won’t be there. I just want the pain to stop.
“Go away!” I scream, pressing my face against the hard stone. I don’t need Asher. I need my dad. I trust his movements, his guidance, his support. There’s no one else who I trust to catch me if I fall. There’s nothing securing me to the stone. My safety net is gone.