Amber to Ashes (The Torn Heart #1)

by Gail McHugh

  Hailey continues her mental fuck as she leans across the table, her tone dropping to a whisper. “So what was it like? Was there tons of blood everywhere? What was running through your mind when they closed their eyes for eternity? I’m thinking about doing a case study on sick psychos and their grieving little spawn. I figured you and your father would fit the bill perfectly.”

  I swallow the hot bile bubbling in my throat, my body rattling uncontrollably with each breath I attempt to take. The ghosts from that evil day trample through my skull, but before I can react, I feel a soft hand on my shoulder.

  “Leave her alone, you freak!” Madeline bellows, her brown eyes as wide as Hailey’s.

  “How dare you talk to me like that!” Hailey jumps to her feet, her pissed-off lips curled over her fangs. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

  Frozen, I watch Madeline take a ground-eating step toward Hailey, their noses nearly smashed together. “I’m the bitch who’s about to beat you into the next millennium if you don’t get the fuck out of here right now.”

  “I’m telling your boss!” Hailey spews in true kindergartener fashion. She shoves Gucci’s newest bag onto her arm and turns, running smack into the man I’m sure is about to fire Madeline. “Just the person I was looking for. Your employee’s threatening me!”

  “And you’re harassing a patron of mine.” Though the steel set of his shoulders says he wants to take a good crack at her, Mr. Boss Man’s expression is eerily calm. “If you don’t remove yourself from my establishment within thirty seconds, I’ll be on the phone with the cops.”

  Not only does Hailey’s mouth drop open, but so does mine.

  “Excuse me?” Hailey’s eyes look like hula hoops.

  “Do you need a hearing aid?” Boss Man crosses his arms, a cunning smile resting on his lips. “I thought I made myself pretty clear. Get out or go to jail. In my opinion, it’s not at all a hard decision.”

  Hailey casts me one last glare, lets out a huff, and pivots, her body trembling as she pushes through the crowd.

  “I apologize about that,” Mr. Boss Man says, extending his hand after the nutter exits the building.

  I take it, completely confused. I thought for sure Madeline would be first in line at the unemployment office tomorrow morning.

  “Once the rush let up, Madeline explained you’ve been having problems with that girl,” he adds.

  “I have. Thanks for getting rid of it—I mean, her.” I give him a weak smile, my nerves starting to come down. “I appreciate it.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” Madeline says, pulling out a chair across from me before readjusting her ponytail.

  “Dad?” I’m more confused than I was before.

  “Yup,” Dad answers with a proud smile, smoothing a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “She’s been calling me that for the last twenty-one years.”

  Madeline grins. “I’m gonna take a quick fifteen, okay?”

  He lays a quick kiss on the crown of Madeline’s head. “Take thirty. Maggie just clocked in, and I overscheduled Tim this morning.” He swings his attention back to me. “Nice meeting you, Amber.”

  “You too.” As he walks away, I wonder if I’d have any kind of relationship with my parents if they were still alive. “I’m lost. I thought you and Lee are from California.”

  “We are,” she says with a nod.

  “But your parents moved here and own a Starbucks?” I crack a smile. “Was your mom that afraid of you leaving the nest?”

  Madeline shakes her head and laughs. “No. My parents are divorced. My mother’s still back in Borrego Springs, and my father’s here in Davidsonville with his new wife. When Lee and I came to visit last summer, we decided to give the East Coast a try and settled on Hadley.”

  “I see,” I draw out. “But why aren’t you living with him instead? Davidsonville’s pretty close, and room and board isn’t cheap.”

  A wicked smile lights her face. “Daddy-o owns five of these here Starbucks, so he’s got a little cash to burn on the full college experience I so desperately requested. You know: drinking, partying, and tons of sex with Lee without having to answer to Pops.”

  “Makes sense.” I grin, wondering why I didn’t catch that to begin with. “Your dad seems pretty cool.”

  “He is,” Madeline says warily. “Caught you off guard with that. I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry?”

  She shrugs, her eyes conveying what she doesn’t want to say.

  You poor, poor thing . . .

  I sigh and take a sip of my Frappuccino, wishing I wasn’t a big fat magnet for remorse. “Thanks for what you did. You pretty much saved me from a felony record.”

  “Don’t mention it.” She blows out a breath, unties her apron, and tosses it onto the table, disgust marring her features. “I’ve never liked that bitch. But since Lee lives with Ryder, and Ryder used to mess around with the skank, I had to deal with her. I’m happy that’s no more.”

  “Used to?” I ask, her words confusing me all over again. “I thought they were still messing around.”

  “Nope. Lee said that after she pulled that last stunt with you and your car, Ryder cut her off.”

  I raise a skeptical brow, not sure what to make of anything. Just five minutes ago, I was sure he’d said something to Hailey. Now I don’t know what to think. The only thing I do know is that Ryder’s receiving an unexpected knock on his door when I leave here.

  “So, listen,” Madeline continues, shifting in her chair, “I’ve been meaning to apologize to you. I was seriously a bitch the day I told you about Brock and the guys. I came off like a judgmental hypocrite, and that’s not me at all.” She shrugs, hesitation swirling in her eyes. “My feelings toward Brock are . . . complicated.”

  “You two don’t have some kind of history together, do you?” I ask, praying to God they don’t.

  She giggles. “No, not at all.”

  I puff out a sigh of relief. I couldn’t handle another blow today.

  “I don’t know . . . Brock’s not totally a bad guy, and he’s been through his share of shit, but I hate what he did to Lee.”

  “What did he do to Lee?” I ask, completely lost.

  “He recruited him into this lifestyle,” she says as though the answer should be obvious. “Brock has a keen sense of knowing who he can and can’t manipulate.”

  I scoff. “Manipulated into it by Brock or not, Lee made his own choice. We all have to make choices. Sometimes those choices take us down the right road, and it’s sunny and bright and filled with sparkles and crap. Other times, our choices sink us down a hole filled with nothing but shit, pain, and regret. Either way, choices are one of the many ways reality pukes its insanity in our faces.”

  I sigh, hoping the girl understands what I’m getting at. I’ve made choices I wish I could take back. We all have. But time is humanity’s greatest threat, our maturing minds unable to grasp that she’s the bitch calling the shots. “You seem pretty cool,” I continue, my tone less harsh, my features softening, “but if you want to get along with me at all, you can’t blame the universe—or Brock—for things Lee chose to participate in on his own. It’s called free will. I don’t like people who seek pity for bad decisions they’ve made on their own. It’s also called life. Please deal with both if you want to be friends with me.”

  “Wow, Amber,” she says after a moment, her eyes saucers. “That was . . . I don’t know. Kind of inspirational, depressing, conceited, and a little . . . scary.”

  “Scary?” I laugh.

  She smiles. “Not really scary, but definitely the other three.”

  “What can I say? I’m . . . multidimensional, one of my many split personalities jumping into every conversation I partake in.” I take a sip of my now lukewarm Frappuccino. I’m in desperate need of a friend—God knows
I am—but I’m not about to give up everything I believe in. I’ve done that more times than I can count. “I’m being honest with you, Madeline. I might seem a little cuckoo—hell, I kind of am—but what you’re staring at is what you’ll always get from me. That’s nothing but the truth.”

  She folds her hands beneath her chin and studies me. “I’m not sure what to say.”

  “Say you’ll be a friend who can deal with my forwardness and who doesn’t think her boyfriend’s better than mine just because he’s not running the show.” I shrug, a grin rounding my face. “Both of our boys are equally as bad because they sell it.”

  “So you agree that what they’re doing isn’t cool?”

  “Of course I do. There’s not a day that passes when Brock goes to pick up that I don’t worry about him.”

  I’ve lost sleep fearing that something fucked up is gonna happen to him. That one night, he’s just not going to come back. I’ve never experienced this over a man. My entire existence has revolved around keeping myself guarded.

  Regardless of me trying to push love as far away as possible from the cage surrounding my heart, these untapped emotions, whether it’s the beginning of falling in love or not, aren’t going away. They’re changing the color of my blood, adding texture to the palette of my world. Relentlessly destroying everything I’ve ever known myself to be—to everything I’ve ever thought I was capable of being to someone else—they’re both scaring and making me giddy all at once.

  “But it is what it is,” I continue, attempting to crush down my fears. “I’m not trying to make light of it, but there are worse things they could be doing.” My statement jars me. Am I trying to make Brock seem better for not being a murderer, rapist, or human trafficker? I set my coffee down, attempting to pick her brain. “Either way, they all have their reasons for doing it. What’s Lee’s reason?”

  She stares at me a second. “We started dating our junior year of high school and have always talked about moving to Europe after graduation. We’ve priced the whole trip, and that shit’s not cheap.” She shakes her head, a wistful smile pulling at her lips. “I don’t know. I mean, I do okay working here for my dad, and if I asked him for it, he’d definitely help me out, but I want that move to be something me and Lee take care of. Lee makes decent money bartending at Ram’s Head, but it’ll take ten times longer if he doesn’t supplement it with something else.” She whips her head toward her father, her voice lowering to a whisper. “But what’s really a legitimate reason to sell drugs?”

  “None of their reasons are legit—no matter how either of us chooses to sugarcoat it—but like I said, it is what it is.” I stand and shove my belongings into my satchel. “So what’s the deal? Are we cool?”

  Madeline rises with a smile. “Yeah. We’re good, Amber. I think I get you.”

  “Nice. Not many people do,” I say, fully aware that a small hole inside has been filled . . . even if it’s just a little. “Thanks again for what you did. I owe you. I’ll figure out some twisted, fun way to pay you back. Maybe Hailey’s head on a platter?” I tap my chin, seriously pondering the idea. “You can showcase it next to the apple fritters.”

  She giggles, her brow drawn up. “You’re scaring me again. You’re good at this.”

  “I am.” I laugh, turning toward the exit. “But you have nothing to fear. Just get the bakery section prepped.”

  I push open the door and hear her drop another giggle, this one holding a hint of genuine nervousness. I can’t help but wonder if she thinks I’m serious. As I get into my car—destination: Ryder’s place, buried deep in the ’hood—I can’t help but wonder the same thing.

  • • •

  I’m pretty sure the crazed southwest Baltimore neighborhood of Edmondson Village can hear the loud pounding of my heart, which is currently trying to leap out of my chest. As I wait for Ryder to open his door, I’ve decided I’m being paranoid. I killed a blunt on the way over, so one must assume Mary Jane’s driving some of my thoughts.

  Before I can swallow the pasty saliva coating my dry mouth, the door swings open, revealing my darkest nightmare and wettest dream. As my breathing hitches, the normal sledge-like paradox I’ve become accustomed to hits me. My toes curl with want for Ryder that I know I shouldn’t have. But I do. I do so much, it makes me feel dirty.

  Hatred—rooted somewhere between wanting him and despising the fact that I do—simmers in my stomach. Its scorching flames lick across every organ in my body as I allow my gaze to drift over his shirtless chest. Starting at the right side of his neck, my eyes follow a devil’s horns and body along the muscled curve of his shoulder, its spiked tail fading into Ryder’s name, etched in intricate black tribal ink above his heart.

  With the corner of his mouth curled up in that cocky I’m an asshole smirk he’s known for, he scratches at his balls—which are hidden beneath a pair of navy blue basketball shorts—and rolls his head from side to side. “I’m a little busy right now, peach. I figured you might get bored with Brock, but the chick on my couch may not be down with me inviting you in.” He kicks me a wink, his voice dropping to a whisper. “But I’ll shoot you a text after I bring her home. We’ll get our sex on then.”

  “You’re a dick.” My hand darts up to smack his cheek.

  He catches my wrist before it can connect. My other hand automatically shoots up and experiences the same treatment from his free hand.

  “Let go of me, Ryder!”

  “Now why the fuck would I do that?” He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, his smirk widening as his blue eyes flitter across my face. “Besides the fact that you’re trying to smack me again, I’m kind of digging this. I bet you’re a feisty little one in bed.” He tugs on my wrists, my chest pressed to his as I attempt to breathe. “Mm. Yeah, I have no doubt you are. I’d gladly welcome whatever torture you see fit. But this smacking shit’s getting played out, momma. At least while lube, lingerie, and sweat aren’t involved. Let’s switch it up a bit. Sound good?”

  I push up on my tiptoes, my lips grazing his ear. “I thought you were never going to fuck with me again? There goes that willpower.”

  “A man has his limits,” he whispers, his grip on my wrists tightening. “Apparently you love testing mine.”

  “I can’t say that I don’t. But I can say that if you don’t let go of me, your balls are my next target.” A smirk dusts my lips as his vanishes. “How’s that for a switch up and a test?”

  “Please don’t hurt my brother,” a meek voice says from behind Ryder.

  Spine tightening, I step back, my nervous gaze landing on the crystal blue eyes of what I’m sure is an angel. Hairless head wrapped in a hot pink bandana, porcelain skin famished of color, and tiny lips quivering, she clutches a teddy bear as she offers me a dollar bill.

  “Here.” She stares up at me, her eyes glassed over. “Mommy paid me my allowance. I can give you this if you promise not to hurt him.”

  “I, uh,” I stammer, my attention floating between her and Ryder.

  Appearing marginally entertained, he crosses his arms and leans against the doorjamb, watching me sweat my way through this beyond-mortifying experience.

  Sure I’ve slammed a dent into her childhood, I kneel in front of her, hoping to undo the damage. “I don’t want your money, sweetie.”

  “Then you’re going to hurt him?” A tear slips from her eye. “I lied. I have two dollars. I can give you those.”

  It’s official. I’m the devil.

  “I have candy too,” she continues, her voice shaky. “Do you like candy? I can give you a Hershey bar and two dollars.”

  “I love Hershey bars.” I shake my head, a slow smile lifting my mouth. “And I was never going to hurt your brother.”

  “But you said you were going to hurt his balls.”

  Yep. The devil. Open up the ground and toss me in with the fucker.

  “Case
y.” Ryder rests his hand on her frail shoulder, sending her a quick look of reprimand. “Remember your words.”

  “But she did, Ryder. She talked about your balls.”

  “She was talking about my football,” he corrects smoothly, a grin sliding across his lips as he kneels beside her. Eyes soft, he swipes a tear from her cheek and gives her nose a little pinch.

  She giggles and pinches his nose right back.

  “This is my friend Amber,” he continues, “and though she hasn’t played with it yet, she loves my football more than she’s willing to admit.” He looks at me, amusement dancing over his face. “Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes, Ryder,” I grit out with what I know he’s aware is the fakest smile I can muster.

  “You wanna know why Amber’s here, Casey?” He looks at me, his amusement exploding by the second.

  I narrow my eyes, convinced he’s about to sink me.

  He turns his attention back to his sister. “I think you’ll really like it.”

  “Yes!” Casey squeaks. “Tell me!”

  “Amber stopped by because she’s having lunch with us, and she’s hanging out with you, me, and SpongeBob all . . . day . . . long.”

  Bouncing up and down, Casey claps. “She is?”

  “I am?” I get to my feet, my need to put my fist through his balls growing. “I don’t recall making these plans.”

  Ryder rises and pinches my nose. “Aww, peach, ya don’t remember? Let me refresh that memory of yours. You called me last night and talked for hours about how excited you were to chill with me and Case here.”

  I look at Casey, and the genuine excitement in her eyes causes my heart to stir. I tentatively touch my knuckles to her cheek, and she smiles. Everything inside me screams that there’s no way I can let this child down.

  “Right.” Smiling, I nod. “Now I remember.”

  “Yay!” Casey snatches my hand, her words racing from her mouth as she leads me into the apartment. “Do you like peanut butter and Fluff? Are you my brother’s new girlfriend? Can you paint my nails?”

  “Case, you’re gonna scare the girl away.” Ryder closes the door, a victorious smirk on his face. “Amber tends to . . . flee when put under pressure.”