Fighting Shadows

by Aly Martinez

  “Ash!” Flint shouted, chasing after me.

  “Fuck,” I hissed, quickly pushing back to my feet and wiping the dirt from my dress. “I’m good,” I said with a smile that should have won me a goddamned Oscar nomination.

  “Stop,” Flint said, taking my wrist.

  “Stop what?” I snapped, trying to pull it from his grasp.

  “Getting upset.”

  I looked up to find a group of people curiously watching us, so I pasted on a grin and replied, “Don’t be silly. I’m just going to see the clown.”

  Flint didn’t buy it for even a second.

  Before I could utter another excuse, his arm folded around my hips and dragged me down onto his lap. “I swear to God, Ash. I will not have this conversation with you out here on the lawn, but you will not fucking run away without allowing me to explain, either. So you have two choices. You follow me inside and talk to me. Or I will tie you to this chair and carry you inside to talk to me. One is tedious, time consuming, and embarrassing. But I am more than willing to give it a go for you.”

  “What the hell? You got a spool of rope in your pocket?” I snarked.

  “I have a belt,” he retorted.

  Normally, I would have sassed back, but I could tell by the determination in his eyes that he wasn’t kidding. While being tied to Flint didn’t seem like a bad option at all, I decided against the embarrassment factor.

  “Lead the way,” I bit out, pushing myself off his lap.

  He nodded toward the huge house. “After you.”

  I walked a little more carefully through the grass, smiling as we passed the onlookers.

  “I’m gonna take Ash inside to get cleaned up,” Flint called out, following closely behind me.

  Instead of going to the front door, he directed me around back toward a long ramp that led inside. A huge room nicer than anything I had ever seen greeted me on the other side of the automatic door. Everything was new, and there was more than enough space for Flint’s wheelchair to maneuver around. It was obvious, based on the empty bookshelves that lined the walls, that it used to be his room. He must have had it really bad to be willing to leave that place in exchange for his tiny apartment.

  Yeah, bad . . . In love with her.

  “Talk,” he demanded as I continued to take in the room and expansive connecting bathroom.

  “I don’t have anything to say.” It was both a truth and a lie. I had tons to say, but the thoughts and feelings were so jumbled in my head that I couldn’t pinpoint where to start.

  “Ash, don’t do this. I know that made you uncomfortable out there.”

  “Maybe just for a minute. I’m okay now.” Now that was definitely a lie.

  “Liar,” he whispered, stopping in front of me and taking my hand. “You don’t have to be jealous of her.” He kissed my knuckle.

  “Yeah, I know,” I replied without meeting his gaze. “Come on. Let’s go back out. I’ve never seen an actual clown before.”

  “Wait. Look at me.”

  My traitorous eyes followed his order.

  “I shouldn’t have told you what I did about her. It’s not a big deal anymore.”

  And with that, all of my thoughts finally aligned.

  And they were pissed.

  “How exactly is it not a big deal that you’re in love with her? Because it’s a really big freaking deal to me!” I snapped with entirely more attitude than I had anticipated.

  “Listen to me. It doesn’t matter anymore—”

  “It matters to me!” I shouted before closing my eyes, wishing I could magically transport myself out of there. Although I wasn’t sure where I would go, because the only place I truly belonged was sitting in front of me. “I love you,” I admitted with my eyes still squeezed shut. I’d wanted to say it, but I didn’t want to see the absence in his own eyes when he was unable to return the sentiment.

  “No, you don’t. You barely know me,” he whispered.

  I guessed it was his turn to lie, because I knew enough about Flint to have fallen in love with him within twenty-four hours of meeting him.

  I continued talking but never opened my eyes. “I do. I love you a lot.”

  “Ash—”

  “No. Don’t. I know what you’re thinking. Max told me it’s too soon and I’m way too young. But it may have only been a month and I might only be sixteen, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that I love you. And it hurts so much to know that you love her.”

  The proverbial record stopped.

  “Wait. What?” He suddenly dropped my hand.

  I pried an eye open to gauge how hard I needed to keep trying to disappear, but when I saw his ghostly white face, they both popped open.

  I had known he couldn’t return my feelings, but I hadn’t expected them to horrify him.

  “YOU’RE HOW OLD?” HE GASPED.

  “Sixteen.” I twisted my mouth in confusion. What the hell is his problem?

  His eyes raked over my body in a way that usually sent tingles down my spine, only this time, his eyes never heated. Instead, they became cold and distant.

  “How?” he asked incredulously, only confusing me more.

  “Ummm . . . how old did you think I was?”

  “Not sixteen!” he roared, shoving a rough hand into the back of his hair. “This is not happening.” He began to glide his chair around the room in a nervous pattern.

  “What’s the big deal?”

  “You’re sixteen!” he repeated as if they had become the sole words in his vocabulary.

  “So what?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  His eyes automatically dropped. I would have smiled at the small victory, but we had far bigger issues to deal with. Like him being in love with another woman.

  It was clear that Flint was still obsessing about my age though.

  “You have a tattoo,” he stated as if that would magically alter the year of my birth.

  “So does Q.”

  “You take college classes online,” he continued to argue.

  “Uhhh . . . no. I take high school classes online.”

  “Oh my God.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “What the hell are you freaking out about?”

  “Everything!” he yelled so loudly that it forced me back a step.

  “Okay, you need to calm down.”

  “I need to calm down? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  I wasn’t kidding. I wasn’t even smiling.

  I actually had a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, and judging by his murderous glare, I had every reason to feel that way.

  “Get out,” he bit out, and while it hurt, I could gladly give him some time alone to get his attitude in check.

  “Fine. Let me know when you’re ready to talk about the real issue instead of this bullshit.” I turned to stalk away, mentally high-fiving myself for not taking the brunt of his hissy fit.

  “The real issue, Ash?” he said behind me. “Exactly how is you lying to me for the last month not the real issue?”

  “Lying to you?” I spun back around to face him. “How the hell was I lying?”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you? You didn’t think the fact that I could go to jail for being with you was need-to-know information?”

  “I’m not jailbait. Sixteen is the age of consent. Besides, it’s not like we were having sex anyway.”

  “Thank fucking God for that.”

  I flinched at his words. That hurt.

  But Flint was just getting started. “You’re a goddamn child. This explains so much about you.”

  “You’re three years older than I am. It’s not exactly robbing the cradle or anything.” I laughed to cover my fear, which was multiplying with his every word spoken. Or, in the seconds that followed, his every word not spoken. “Flint, let’s just calm down here. It’s still me. So I’m a little younger. Age doesn’t matter. I love you,” I reminded him. I didn’t give a damn if he felt the same way or not. I just needed him to know t
hat I loved him. That was enough.

  No one had ever loved me. I didn’t need it. I just needed him.

  He stared blankly across the room; his eyes never even bounced to mine.

  Suddenly, he blurted, “I want you to get the fuck out of my life and never come back.”

  “You’re breaking up with me because of my age?” My voice quivered.

  “No, I’m breaking up with you because I can’t have you.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m right here. I’m yours. I belong to you.”

  “Bullshit! Sixteen-year-old girls belong with their parents. They giggle in homeroom with their friends and talk about hairstyles and trying to score the high school quarterback. They don’t tie themselves down to a guy in a wheelchair.”

  “Well, maybe you don’t know the right girls, then. Because I’d give anything to be tied down to you. Wheelchair or not. Walking or not. Just you.”

  His infuriated eyes softened as he looked up. “Why?”

  “I can’t describe it. You’re smart. And you’re kind of an ass, but I love the challenge of making you laugh. I feel safe with you. No one’s ever tried to protect me like you did that first night. You’re my hero, Flint.” My heart swelled from the memories.

  Flint barked out a laugh. “And this is exactly our problem. That right there is how sixteen-year-old girls think. They have dreams and fairytales about how life is going to be. I’m no one’s white knight. I’m just a bitter guy who has to relearn to walk like a fucking baby. I have no money.” He opened his arms and signaled around the room. “This is my brother’s. Not mine.”

  “What are you talking about? This is the first time I’ve ever seen your brother’s house. Do you think for a single second I care about money?”

  “Well, you are a Mabie,” he sneered.

  “That is not fair! I’d lie in that dirty patch of grass with you for the rest of my life if that’s all you had.”

  He swallowed hard and looked away.

  “What is this fight really about, Flint? Because I have to admit I’m pretty lost right now. You keep changing the topic. I was upset earlier by the whole Eliza thing, but obviously, you have far bigger issues than I do.” I paused and took a step toward him. “Is this because you think I want your brother’s money? Flint, I’ve shoplifted groceries for the majority of my life. I wouldn’t even know how to go through the checkout line. I don’t want money. I want you.”

  I took another step to close the distance between us. “Or is this about you being in a wheelchair? Because I have never known you without it. I. Don’t. Care. If you never walk again. Your legs are not the part I fell in love with.” With one last step, I finally reached him. “Or is this because I’m sixteen? I’m sorry you thought I was older, but I don’t see for one second how that changes what we have together. If you had never found out how old I was, this wouldn’t even be an issue. You aren’t pissed because I’m some immature little girl. You’re pissed about a number.”

  There were a million different reasons why I was mad, the biggest one being how deceived I felt. Not just about her age, but about the future I hoped we could start making together. I wanted things from Ash.

  A lot of things.

  I might have only been nineteen, but my situation was truly unique. My age did not represent the point I was at in life. I wasn’t a normal college kid who went out drinking and partying on Friday nights. Rather, I wanted to stay at home and lie on the couch, reading a book—or, actually, lie in the weeds with her.

  There was a reason I was fast-tracking college. I wanted to be done with it. I loved school, but the big picture at the end was what motivated me. I didn’t want to be a teenager anymore. I wanted my life to start. One where I had a house and a wife of my own. Maybe, in a few years, toss in a kid.

  Basically, I wanted exactly what Till had.

  A family.

  It was sad. I would have figured that walking again would have been my main priority. It wasn’t though. Having somewhere I truly belonged was.

  For a brief moment, I’d had high hopes that that was with Ash Mabie. Hopes that had all come crashing down with one little number.

  Sixteen-year-olds didn’t settle down.

  I’d always been mature for my age because of the way I had grown up, but who I was at nineteen was completely different than who I had been just three years earlier. I had already been in love with Eliza back then, but girls were still girls, and I had gone through them faster than I had condoms. There were always stupid fights and drama, breakups followed by tears and false confessions of love. Girls were freaking crazy when they were young, but that was part of the game—one I’d played hard for several years in high school.

  A game I never wanted to play again.

  In my perfect world, Ash and I would have dated for six or so months. Fallen irrevocably in love. I would have asked her to move in. We would have lived together for another six or so months, and then I would have proposed. Six months later, she would have been walking down the aisle in a white dress. And one year later, I would have taken my very first step as I was handed my college diploma while my pregnant wife was beaming with pride from the audience.

  That was my game.

  Two and a half years and I’d be done trying to make a life and ready to start living it.

  It had seemed impossible after I’d been shot, and there was that little issue that I hadn’t been able to move past Eliza. But the moment Ash had barged her way into my life, it suddenly hadn’t seemed so hard anymore.

  Sitting around while waiting for Ash to grow up and praying that she didn’t up and leave me during those crazy years of adolescent self-discovery was definitely not part of my plan. It actually scared the shit out of me.

  I’d already fallen for one unattainable woman.

  I couldn’t make it two.

  Not even for Ash.

  “I’m still your girlfriend. Nothing has changed!” she cried, attempting to take my hand.

  I snatched it out of her reach. “You’re not my girlfriend,” I announced. She was so much more—which was exactly why I’d never be able to keep her.

  “What?” she whimpered in a broken voice that absolutely gutted me.

  I needed her to go.

  I needed to be alone.

  I needed her to crawl into my lap and tell me that she’d never leave and she’d love me forever.

  “This thing . . . whatever the hell it was, is bullshit. I just brought you here today to make Eliza jealous.” The lie burned my lungs.

  With that one childish statement, it became blatantly obvious that I wasn’t the mature one of the two of us. But I needed her out of my life before I begged her to stay.

  “You’re lying. You didn’t even know about this party until today.”

  “Yes, and you’ve served your purpose. You can leave.”

  “You are so full of shit, Flint. I’m not leaving until you tell me the truth about what the hell is going on.”

  “I don’t want you!” I yelled, and her whole body tensed at my outburst. Or maybe it had been the words. I couldn’t tell. “That’s your truth, Ash. You’re a criminal whose only future is behind bars. You happen to have a nice set of tits, so I was hoping you’d put out, but children aren’t exactly my thing. So now that Eliza has seen us together, I’m gonna need you to get the fuck out of my life.”

  Her eyes went wide, giving her away, but a fake smile stretched her mouth, attempting to cover the pain I had just inflicted. I hated that fucking smile. It was all wrong and I wanted to erase it from existence. And the sooner she got away from me, the sooner I could do just that.

  She didn’t budge, and neither did her smile, but her chest heaved as she desperately tried to hold it together.

  With shaking hands, she squared her shoulders. “You . . . You told me once that I couldn’t go through life trusting everyone. Thanks for proving that.” She tried to laugh, but it came out as a sob. “You’re wrong about me though. I’m a good perso
n. I’ll prove that.” She pulled her heels off. Tears were streaming down her face when she looked back up. “Since that’s what you really think of me, don’t worry. You’ll never have to see this criminal again.”

  I apologized profusely in my head, but anger and self-preservation never allowed the words to leave my mouth as I watched Ash, barefoot and with her head hung low, walk out my life.

  I DIDN’T EVEN MAKE IT a full four hours before I regretted all the things I’d said to Ash. I wasn’t sure how anything could work between us, but I had dismissed the idea of even trying entirely too quickly. I just needed a few days to logically work it out in my head. Develop a new strategy for slowing things down between us but still keeping her in my life.

  I couldn’t lose her.

  I was told that Slate had driven her home from the party. Quarry texted me late that night to tell me that something was seriously off. Ash had cooked dinner that night for everyone and sat at the table with a huge smile, telling her father that she loved him and how much she had loved getting to know Debbie and Quarry. She had hugged them all then spent the rest of the night in her room.

  I gave Q strict instructions to keep an eye on her. I had too much pride to actually call her, and part of me was a little scared too. I was positive she needed some time to cool off.

  My phone rang the following morning at seven A.M. I was exhausted, and if it weren’t for Quarry’s name showing on the caller ID, I would have sent it to voicemail.

  “What’s up?” I answered, wiping the sleep from my eyes.

  “I need you to come get me. The cops are here arresting Ray and Debbie.”

  I sat straight up in bed. “What!” I yelled, settling the phone between my shoulder and ear so I could transfer into my wheelchair.

  “I have no idea what the fuck is going on. About four cars arrived at the house. Cops stormed in and hauled them out. Till’s not answering. I need you to come get me.”

  “Where’s Ash?” I rushed out as I headed to my dresser to pull some clothes on.

  “I don’t know. She’s not here, and most of her shit has been cleared out.”