by Anna Paige
The corner of her mouth turned up in the sweetest smile as she reached up and cupped my hand with hers. “You’re not . . . how did you put it? Batting out of your league? We’re perfectly suited for each other.” She nuzzled into my hand as I cupped her cheek. “No leagues, no wondering who thinks who’s good enough. Okay? It’s only about you and me, how we feel about each other. Everything else is irrelevant.”
“Agreed.” I kissed her forehead and stepped back, tossing the throw pillow on the bed.
To my back, she muttered, “Better hold tight to that agreement, Buck-o. We still have to tell my parents.”
I’d been reaching for the bags, intent on tossing them onto the bed so we could finish packing. At her comment, I halted in my tracks, a thread of fear thrumming up my spine. “Does your dad still have that antique gun collection?”
The giggle I got in response did nothing to assuage my nerves.
Maybe I should practice running in a zigzag pattern . . . just in case.
A couple of hours later, we walked through my mom’s front door and you would have thought the Queen of England had just arrived. My mom practically sprinted through the house, tackle-hugging Blair before she could even get past the foyer. She squeezed and fawned over her so long I kind of felt left out watching them.
Phil slipped into the room and put a hand on my shoulder, shaking his head at them even as he pulled me in for a quick hug himself. “Heya, son. How was the cabin?” he asked, watching as Mom fussed over Blair, taking her coat and hanging her purse up on one of the hooks in the entry way all while talking about how beautiful she looked and how she loved her hair. It was almost comical to watch Blair’s reaction to it all.
Flattered . . . and maybe a tad frightened.
To Phil, I said, “The cabin was perfect. You went way beyond what I would have expected. Thank you.”
Blair must have caught some of what I said because her head swiveled in our direction and she launched herself at Phil, apparently picking up some of my mother’s exuberance. “You did such a great job decking out the cabin. It was amazing. Thank you!” She planted a big, wet kiss on his cheek and damn if he didn’t blush in response.
“You’re quite welcome, Blair.” He cleared his throat and looked shyly at the floor.
“Oh, Lord. You just gave an old man the thrill of the century,” Mom teased.
He jerked his head up and cocked a brow. “You weren’t calling me an old man last night. Or this morning.”
Now it was Mom’s turn to blush. “Phil, not in front of the kids.”
“Kids, my apparently-elderly ass. If they weren’t doing the same damn thing in that cabin all weekend, I wasted a lot of effort and roses for nothing.”
Blair laughed and looked over at me. I was torn between being happy for my parents and being scarred for life at the overshare. In the end, Blair’s laughter tilted the scales in the least traumatizing direction, and I managed a chuckle or two myself.
This was going to be an interesting dinner, to say the least.
“So, Ash, have you heard back from any of those interviews?” Phil asked as we sat down to eat.
“Four of them, yeah. Three wanted follow-ups and one—the biggest firm I applied to and the one I was most interested in—made an outright offer, but their benefits package and salary aren’t as competitive as they should be, and I told them so.”
“Oh, I’m sure that went over well.” Mom rolled her eyes.
“They didn’t argue, and once they regrouped, they called back with a better offer.” Mom’s mouth fell open, so I explained, “It’s good to be the one holding all the cards. I didn’t approach them, they sought me out. That gives me leverage. And they know they aren’t the only ones who’ve approached me, so they either had to settle for the next person on their list or step up to the plate and make me a worthwhile offer.”
“Of the interviews you’ve done so far, how many are local?” Phil asked.
“All of them.”
“All of them?” He looked surprised. “No one outside the area has approached you?”
“No, there have been others. A few in Maryland and DC, plus one in New York, but I didn’t actually consider them.”
“Companies not big enough?”
“No, there were a couple of huge ones. But they were geographically undesirable.”
Mom wrinkled her brow. “Like, in a bad neighborhood or something?”
I had to chuckle. “No. They weren’t close enough to where I want to live. To home. To you guys. To Blair. That’s why when the big local firm called with their updated offer last Friday, I took it.”
Blair’s eyes widened and she started to shake her head. “Ash, don’t let me be the reason—”
“You’re not,” I cut her off. “I never thought I’d say this, but I like this place. It’s small and quiet and my whole history is here. My roots are here.” I glanced at Mom and Phil before turning back to Blair. “And my future is here.”
“And if I didn’t intend to stay after I graduate?” she challenged.
“My future would be wherever you were.” My mom gave a little sigh at that, but I ignored her, focusing only on Blair. “The great thing about my work is I can do it literally anywhere. I could work remotely from anyplace with decent Wi-Fi and be perfectly content. This is just a stepping stone for me. Getting my name out there, building my reputation before I start my own business. No matter which offer I accepted, it was always going to be temporary.” I reached across the table and took her hand in mine. “You and I are not.”
“That’s my boy,” Phil muttered, tearing into a roll with a proud smile.
“Oh, hush. You’ve never been that sweet in your life.” Mom shook her head and tossed her roll at him.
He caught it with ease and gave her a long, suggestive wink. “That’s because you prefer the bad boys.”
“Bad as in doesn’t take out the trash? Or maybe bad as in leaves his clothes two feet from the hamper?” She snickered and put a hand to her chest. “Be still, my heart.”
“You two are hilarious,” Blair commented, taking a sip of my mom’s famous sweet tea.
“You mean we bicker and pick at each other constantly but also manage to be a pretty great fit for one another?” Mom raised a brow. “Sound like anyone else we all know?”
Blair and I shared a look but didn’t verbally confirm anything. We all knew who she meant. And she was right. We really were a perfect fit.
By the time dessert rolled around, we’d talked about dozens of random topics; the cabin and the work Phil still wanted to do to it, fishing and how we somehow never got around to that this weekend, Blair’s courses and plans for after graduation.
Everything but the one thing I knew my mom was dying to discuss.
Tommy.
Sure enough, as she and I were plating thick slices of her homemade it-takes-five-hours-but-it’s-worth-every-second chocolate cheesecake, Mom looked back at the table and asked Blair, “So, how are your parents dealing with the Tommy situation? How did you manage to keep them from locking you in your old room until menopause?”
Blair shifted in her seat and gave a half-hearted chuckle. “They’re handling it well, I suppose. Of course, that’s because I’ve been avoiding them at all costs. Mom’s anxiety makes it hard to let things go. It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if she did try to lock me away”—she used air quotes—“‘for my own good.’”
“Becker has been running interference,” I told them, noticing even Blair seemed to be hearing that for the first time. “They heard the list of charges from one of their friends who was at the arraignment and flipped shit. Beck calmed them down, slept on Blair and Charli’s couch all week, and didn’t leave their sides unless they were in class. And he assured their folks that when he wasn’t with them, I was. I guess that pacified them. For now.”
“Do they know about you two?” Mom directed this to me but cast a look in Blair’s direction, as well.
“Not yet. But they will
soon enough.”
“Then where do they think you were all weekend?”
“Home cramming for a test,” she admitted sheepishly. “Beck told them since I was distracted by everything going on and missed a day to attend Tommy’s arraignment, I fell behind in one of my classes and the professor is a real hard-ass who only gave me the weekend to catch up before the section exam on Monday. He made it sound like my entire college career hinges on this test and made them promise no calls, only a text or two until tomorrow.”
“Given all he’s done to help you two out, can I assume he’s okay with you dating?” This came from Mom.
I shrugged. “As far as I can tell. It’s a little odd for him, so we tone down any PDAs around him, but he’s been pretty supportive. I kind of expected him to try and take my head off, to be honest. And for a minute there it looked like he might.”
“What kept him from taking a swing?” Phil asked, spearing a huge bite of cheesecake as he watched me.
“I told him that I’m in love with her, that I’ve been in love with her for years.” I glanced over at Blair and saw that sweet smile that always stole my breath. “I told him she’s the one.”
There was a pause, a silence that settled around us as we stared at one another.
“I suppose that would do it,” Phil remarked. “That and nearly taking a bullet for her on that beach.” He turned to Blair and lifted his hand, pointing toward her as his tone grew serious. “I know Ash and Becker are looking after you girls, and that’s admirable, but they can’t be there every second, so I want you to be vigilant. At all times. Don’t let your guard down for a second. That Tommy kid is a real piece of work and you can’t assume you’re safe until his ass is behind bars.”
Blair’s hand tensed in mine. “Do you know something we don’t?”
The look that passed across his face scared the shit out of me, and for some reason, I desperately wished he hadn’t broached this subject in front of Blair.
Whatever he’d found out, it was bad. Like, sleep with a nightlight kind of bad.
As he began to speak, the color drained from Blair’s face and her hand held so tightly to mine that my fingertips went numb.
The only comfort I could give her was my presence. My protection.
And she’d have it.
Until that crazy son of a bitch was somewhere he could never hurt anyone again.
Blair
Both of the guys stayed with us that night. Charli and Becker were just as horrified as we were when we shared what Phil had found out about Tommy.
I thought often about the barista who thought Tommy was leaving flowers at her home. I planned to drop by the coffee shop as soon as possible to update her and urge her again to remain vigilant.
Though I hadn’t mentioned my conversation with her to anyone, I found myself particularly apprehensive each time I returned home, half expecting to find an anonymous bouquet of my own.
Luckily, that had not been the case.
At least, not yet.
Much as I hated to, I finally talked to Beck, Ash, and Charli a bit about my anxiety over the trial but refused to let them dwell on it for very long for fear of conjuring a fresh batch of nightmares. I was hoping having Ash with me would help fend them off again, but after what Phil told us, I wasn’t as optimistic as I might have otherwise been.
My brother, ever the gentleman, claimed the couch while Ash made no apologies about joining me in my bed. He told Beck he was too concerned about me to care if he was freaking him out with the sleeping arrangement.
I was somewhat surprised that Beck didn’t stay in Charli’s room, but a quick whispered conversation in the kitchen revealed that the two of them hadn’t officially . . . well . . . they weren’t quite there yet. According to Charli, they’d come close but kept getting interrupted and now that I was back home, apparently my presence alone was enough to kill the mood for Becker.
It would have been funny if Charli wasn’t so frustrated by it.
Once everyone was settled in for the night, I curled up on Ash’s chest and let out a long breath, letting the knot of tension in my spine unwind as I slowly sank into him.
“You okay, baby?” He ran a hand over my hair, threading his fingers into it and giving me goose bumps. I loved having my hair played with.
“I think so. Just mentally drained, you know?”
“I do know. Kinda feeling the same way. There’s been a lot to process lately. Some amazing things, like me and you, and some really incredibly shitty things like everything pertaining to Tommy.”
I ran my fingers across the thin smattering of hair in the middle of his chest. “What scares me almost more than what Phil told us is that if he found out all that stuff, so could my parents. I was joking when I told your mom they might lock me away, but if they found out the rest of that stuff about Tommy, there’s a real chance they might.” I gave an all too real shudder. “Or worse, one or both of them will move themselves in here to stand guard.”
“You’ve already got two highly-motivated security guards on duty. So, your folks would have to take a number. We plan to stick so close you girls will be tempted to make us split the rent.”
“Like Phil said, you can’t stand guard twenty-four-seven. Especially not considering how long we have until the trial. He’ll continue roaming the streets for the next couple of months and what will we be doing? Hiding? Watching over our shoulders every second of every day? What kind of life is that?” I propped myself up on my side, facing him. “I want to relax into this thing that’s happening between us. Like letting out a big old sigh and feeling wrapped in the warmth of it. I want to feel this without the shadow of him looming overhead.”
“So do I, baby, but how do we do that? Knowing what we know, how do we just let it go and pretend there’s no cause for concern?”
“We make up our minds that he’s not fucking winning, that’s how. There’s a restraining order in place and the not guilty plea means he’s trying desperately to avoid jail time, so he’d be stupid to come anywhere near any of us.”
“That restraining order is about as substantial as the discount paper it’s printed on,” he reminded me.
“I still don’t think he intends to come after anyone. When he tried to talk to me at the courthouse, he seemed—”
“Capable of anything? Because he is, Blair. Including playing on your sympathies. Did you not hear what Phil said? What he did to that poor girl last year?”
“I heard him fine.”
“Then hear this,” he ground out on a shaky breath. “Your empathetic streak could get you killed if you let it blind you to what he really is. Please, please don’t let your guard down where he’s concerned. I don’t care how sorry or wounded or non-threatening he pretends to be. Dahmer wore a damn cast on his leg and used crutches to lure in victims, good-hearted people just like you who didn’t want to believe the worst of people. People who felt sorry for him. Look where it got them.”
“He’s not a serial killer, Ash. Jesus.” I rolled my eyes, thinking he was being ridiculous to make such a leap.
“Not yet, at least as far as we know. How many documentaries on killers start out with, ‘he was a little strange, but we had no idea what he was capable of’ or ‘we could tell something was off, but he seemed really lonely and we felt bad for him.’”
“Okay, you’re scaring me.” I resumed my spot lying across his chest, my arm tugging tight across his abdomen.
“Good. Because if you’re feeling even remotely sorry for that son of a bitch, someone needs to scare the shit out of you. Better me than him.”
“Do you think he was playing me? Trying to make me feel less threatened so I wouldn’t bury him on the stand?”
This was the first time I’d mentioned the fact I’d have to testify without my entire body going cold, which I attributed to Ash’s calming presence rather than an ebbing of my paralyzing fear of the stand.
“He buried himself when he went after you on that beach.”
“I’ll have to talk about it in front of a courtroom full of strangers,” I whispered, my stomach clenching. “All those people in court the other day were just there to hear the charges. Can you imagine how many will turn up for the big show?” I said it with such venom in my voice even I winced.
Ash’s arms tightened around me. “I’ll be right there in the front row, sweetheart. You focus on me, no one else.”
I could feel the sting of gathering tears as I considered just how horrible even that would be. I didn’t want to have to think about what happened, much less talk about it, and having to relive it in court with Ash there seeing it in vivid color in his own memories, that might be the worst thing I could fathom, aside from the fact Ash would have to get up there too and tell what he’d seen. That might be the worst of the nightmares I’d had since the arraignment; Ash up there describing what it was like to watch another man trying to rape me. I didn’t want Ash anywhere near that courtroom, as a witness or anything else.
I didn’t tell him that, though.
He wanted to support me, and I would let him think the idea of him there gave me comfort.
Nuzzling his chest and inhaling his scent, I said, “No more talk of Tommy tonight, okay? I don’t want him to be the last thing I’m thinking about before I fall asleep.”
“What do you want to be thinking about?”
“You,” I answered honestly.
“Just me?”
I smiled and kissed his bare chest, hoping to shift the conversation and clear some of the heaviness from the air so I could breathe again. “No, you and me and that lounge chair on the porch of the cabin.”
“Now that’s something worth discussing. Are we thinking about what did happen on that lounge chair or something you’d like to happen?”
“Whatever floats your boat.”
“No, no. You’ve got to tell me exactly what you’re thinking. I need the details.”