Red Nights

by Shari J. Ryan

  “My mother…the chef,” he laughs, like he didn’t just totally check out of the conversation.

  “I’d love to, but—”

  “I’ll take you out there your next night off.” I want to tell him to slow down. What the hell is going through his head right now? I can’t figure out what just happened.

  “I’m off tonight, but I promised Aspen we could have a girl’s night. I sort of moved in with her and we haven’t spent any quality time together. And I’ve been a shitty friend.” I set my fork on my plate and look at him, waiting for him to open up.

  He doesn’t.

  So, I ask. “Hayes, what’s going on? Why did you just check out when I asked what you were holding back?”

  “I’m not holding back anything, Felicity.” He takes our empty plates and places them into the sink with a clatter, then whacks at the faucet knob. I hop down from my seat and walk up behind him, laying my hand on his back. The second my fingers make contact with his shirt, he turns to face me. “It’s nothing. We all have our crap, right?” He pulls me into his chest, allowing me to hear—and feel—his pounding heart. “I’m sorry. What night next week should I tell her?”

  I know well enough that when someone says “it’s nothing.” It usually means, whatever it is, is anything but nothing. But out of respect, I have to push it out of my mind. Or at least pretend to. “I’m usually off on Wednesday nights.”

  “It’s a date,” he says, placing a kiss on the top of my head. “You’ll get to meet the whole family that night.” Oh boy. “Hopefully that’s not pushing things too fast? If it is, I totally understand.” It’s only been a week and a half, but he wants me to meet his family. He’s opening up. I don’t even know if he has siblings—we still haven’t gotten to those questions. There’s a slight chance I’ve been completely avoiding the topic of his family for my own selfish reasons, since I don’t have a sibling any more.

  “The whole family?” I ask.

  “Yeah, my brother works there too.” Brother. He still has one. “So, what do you think?”

  “I’d love to. We’ll probably be engaged by next week anyway,” I say, peering up at him.

  “Whoa. Slow down there, crazy. I was thinking we might move in together first—you know, buy a nice house in the suburbs.” And just like that, the stress melts away as I liquefy under his gaze, completely losing sight of reality and forgetting everything.

  I will literarily have to peel myself off of this man; if I don’t, my entire world will be consumed by his lips, his hands, his…everything. I can’t say that I mind that thought, but wow, does it suck to think about giving up what Hayes would likely be willing to give me for the rest of the day. “I have to go plead for my boss’s forgiveness,” I groan against his lips.

  He pulls away, still looking down at me. “Did you talk to Aspen about the whole freezer deal?”

  “Yeah. It’s pretty dumb. She was doing the cold deed with the dish washer—and a gross dish washer, at that.”

  “No; I mean, did you ask her how it was in the freezer? Just for research purposes.”

  I give him one last kiss and playfully push him off of me. “Thank you for starting my day off right.”

  “And thank you for starting my day off at four in the morning.” Ugh. “We’ll talk more about this whole smoking thing later. I have some ideas on how to redirect your addiction.”

  I hope his ideas are what I’m thinking they are.

  * * *

  “You doing better today?” Grant asks when I walk through the door. I want to tell him to be more specific.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry for my behavior last night.” He waves me toward his office. I might have shot myself in the foot. This is what he does when he lets people go. He takes them into his office, sits them down, and tells them they have great potential, but it’s just not working out. Since my kitchen staff has been in the hot seat a number of times, I’ve had the pleasure of sitting in on some of these occasions. I never expected to be on the other side, though.

  I follow him into the office and he stops to shut the door behind us. I take a seat, which would serve as a regular seat any other day. But today, it’s the seat. “I’ll go without a fight.”

  He leans back on his desk, crossing his arms over his chest. “What are you talking about?”

  “I—I figured you were letting me go.” But, maybe he’s not. I can’t add “unemployed” to everything else.

  “Felicity,” he begins. “I’m not one to put all of my cards on the table. As a businessman, it’s an ignorant move. But you are the best chef I could have ever hoped to walk through these doors. I want to do whatever it takes to help you get through this. And unfortunately, removing Aspen from the restaurant was part of that.”

  I don’t understand how removing my closest friend—and now roommate—from her place of employment is going to help me get through any of this. He has to realize how difficult it has already made things, regardless of how well Aspen seems to be taking it. “I don’t understand.”

  He presses his fingertips into his eyebrows, a look of strain filling his face. “Last night, I was trying to tell you who I caught her with in the freezer. I was hoping when you fired her, she would come clean. However, considering you’re still defending her, I guess she didn’t.”

  “She did. Last night,” I say.

  Grant stands up, rolling his shoulders back and his neck from side to side. “Thank God. I really didn’t want to have to tell you.” He walks around to the back of his desk, for no reason other than to pace. “I was losing sleep over telling you, kid.”

  “It’s just Ralph. What’s the big deal? I mean, it’s gross and all, but…” I shudder at the thought. “Whatever. I don’t put too much past Aspen when it comes to her sex life.”

  Grant gives me a brief wide-eyed stare before dropping into his chair. His elbows fall on his knees and his head lands in his hands. “Dammit,” he exclaims.

  For a reason I don’t understand, my heart sinks and my blood feels cold in my veins. “What?” I ask, the word catching in my throat.

  “She wasn’t in there with Ralph.” He lifts his head out of his hands. His face has a pallor I’ve never seen before. “When I found her in the freezer, I told her she was fired, but I also told her I was having you do it officially, so she could tell you what she’d done. Or rather, who.”

  Who? I want to say I’m having an aha! moment, but I’m not. I can’t figure out what would warrant the look on Grant’s face. I’m going through a list of possible people in my head, but other than the obvious people here, I have no clue.

  “Grant, just tell me,” I snap. I’ve lost every ounce of patience with this situation. I just want to know.

  “It was Blake.”

  All I can see is red. It takes a moment for my brain to make sense of my thoughts, but once it does, the fury blows through me and my body trembles, it’s like the room is spinning around me, holding me still in a trap I can’t move from. I hear my name, although it sounds like someone screaming into the wind. I’m looking directly at Grant, yet through him at the same time. The pieces start coming together.

  “My brother,” I state. I need to hear it out loud. I need to say it out loud.

  “She didn’t want you to know. She begged me not to tell you. Blake said he would tell you himself, but she fought him on it, right in front of me. So I told her you were going to be the one to officially fire her, and she’d have to answer to you.”

  “I didn’t need to know,” is all I can say. Blake had a right to be with whoever he wanted. Even though I didn’t.

  And then…more pieces come together.

  Aspen knew she was being fired.

  She screwed my brother in the freezer at MY restaurant.

  And then…she lied to me about it.

  The fire, which is now being considered arson, was started the night Grant told me to fire her…the night Aspen and Blake were caught.

  I thought Blake was gone with his friends that
night. Why would they hide this from me? I can’t believe Blake didn’t tell me…or maybe I can. He knew what I’d say.

  Something along the lines of, you get to be with my friend, but I don’t get to be with yours?

  I push myself up; still gripping the arm rests on the chair. My focus darts to every corner of the room. Everything comes down to one thought: Aspen started the fire.

  My God.

  “Sit down…you don’t look too good,” Grant says. “I want you to breathe.” I can’t fucking breathe. I can hardly see straight. They shouldn’t have hidden this—them—from me. I can’t believe them. “I might be wrong, but I believe Aspen has always been slightly jealous of you. Jealousy can bring out the worst in people, as I’m sure you can understand. She had mentioned a couple of times she didn’t like being in your shadow.”

  What did Blake have to do with that?

  “I have to go,” I say, reaching for the door, my mind still reeling, making it hard to focus on anything.

  “Felicity,” Grant interrupts my thoughts, “take the rest of the week off.” I say nothing. “You can come in Saturday if you feel up to it. Or let me know if you need more time. Whichever. Okay?” I nod. “I’m really sorry, kid.”

  I run out of the office.

  I make it outside, unaware of how I got here and realize I’m soaking wet in a heavy, pelting downpour. And there she is…walking in as I’m walking out. Aspen, dead-center.

  What the hell is she doing here?

  “Get out of my life!” I scream.

  “I loved him,” is all the explanation she offers.

  “And that’s why you burnt my house down with him in it?” I cry.

  “What are you talking about?” she asks.

  “You fucking killed Blake because you loved him?” I shove her out of my way, and fight my way into my car. I pull my door shut, pushing her arms out of the way, leaving her pounding on my window.

  “Why would I kill him?” she shrieks, her voice muffled through the glass. “And why would I hurt you? I didn’t do it…I didn’t.” She falls to the ground, her head between her arms and knees.

  I don’t care.

  I turn the car on and take off, leaving her with the splash from my tires kicking up behind me.

  I can’t even look in my rear-view mirror. I can’t look at her.

  I drive to Mom and Dad’s, blowing through multiple stop signs on the way. The car is barely in park when I jump out.

  I pound on their door, shouting for them to open up. The fifteen seconds it takes for them to answer is long enough for the rain to completely saturate my clothes again. I don’t hear much when they pull me inside. My own thoughts are too loud to focus on what either of them are saying. Mom disappears as Dad’s arms loop around me, locking me in tightly against his pillowy chest. He strokes the back of my hair, and a shushing noise hums through my ears.

  “Breathe,” I finally hear. Mom places a towel around me and pulls me down onto the couch. I sit huddled between them, crying, wheezing, and coughing. I might vomit. My stomach is twisting and turning and feels sour like I’ve eaten something bad.

  “I think it was Aspen,” I cry out. “I think she started the fire.”

  “Honey,” Dad says. “What are you talking about?”

  For a split second clarity washes over me. The tears stop and the heaviness in my chests breaks apart. They don’t know about the investigation…the arson.

  I tell them as briefly as I can. “I think I’m being set up.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  MOM HAS BEEN in the kitchen for a while. I’ve listened to the clanging and clattering of dishes and pans. “What are you doing in there?” I shout from the couch where Dad still has his arm heavily draped over my shoulders.

  Mom ambles out of the kitchen with two teacups and hands them to Dad and me. “I just called Tanner. He’ll be here shortly.”

  Shit. No.

  “Why did you call him?” I haven’t told Hayes what’s going on yet, and after what happened the other night, I don’t want to complicate things again.

  “I think he should know, dear. He cares deeply for you, and he might know more about what was happening between Aspen and Blake. Don’t you think we should at least ask?” She sits and places a coaster in front of me.

  “I think he would have told me already,” I say. And I honestly believe that. I set my cup down on the coaster and excuse myself.

  Stepping out onto the back porch, I pull my phone out and dial Hayes.

  “Hey, Blondie-locks, how’d it go?” he asks.

  I fall back heavily against the wall, inhaling sharply. “Not good. It turns out my roommate was sleeping with my brother. And they just happened to be caught on the day of the fire. I want to believe it was all some big coincidence, but…I don’t know right now.”

  “Hang on,” he says. I hear him fumbling with something. “So, Aspen was with Blake in the freezer the day of the fire?”

  “Yeah; it happened during the lunch shift.”

  “Was Aspen still on for the night shift?” he asks.

  “Yes, but I cut her around eight because it was pretty slow. After she left, Grant told me I needed to let her go. He said she would know why, and I assumed it was because she came in late all the time.” Not because she was fucking my brother in the freezer.

  “I’m writing this all down—compiling notes—to help us with the case.” How can he not be regretting running into me at this point? All I’ve done is bring way more stress into his life. And from the little I know about him, I can tell that stress is the last thing he needs.

  “Hayes, I’m at my parents. And they just invited Tanner over to tell him what’s happening. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Pay attention to everything he says; he might know something. Every piece of information you can get right now is crucial.”

  “Okay,” I say. I should feel relieved that he doesn’t care about Tanner coming here right now, but I don’t. I don’t want Tanner here at all.

  “Call me when he leaves.”

  Back in the living room where Mom and Dad are whispering over tea, I can see Tanner pull into the driveway. “He’s here,” I tell them.

  Mom hustles back into the kitchen, to fix more tea I presume. “Is this how she’s been?” I ask Dad.

  He nods. “She can’t stop moving, or she breaks down. There have been a lot of baked goods and roasts for the past couple of weeks. She’s not doing well, honey.”

  Tanner rings the doorbell even though the front door is open, leaving only a screen between us and him. “Come in,” I say.

  “What’s going on?” He looks startled. “Where’s your mom. Is she okay? She was a mess on the phone.”

  I nod toward the kitchen. “She’s making you some tea, I believe.” He looks around the corner into the kitchen.

  “And why is she so upset?”

  You mean, other than the fact that her son just died? I think to myself.

  I just ask him outright, “Did you know anything about Aspen and Blake?”

  He looks as confused and taken back as I felt when Grant told me. “What about them?” he asks.

  “Evidently, they were together. And they got caught…uh, you know, in the freezer at work. It all happened the day of the fire.”

  He looks confused. “Are you sure?”

  I nod. “My boss walked in on them…he told me about it today.” He says nothing. “And I can’t help but think that Aspen had something to do with the fire.” I may be jumping to conclusions, wrongfully accusing her, but it feels good to shift the blame a little, though.

  “What makes you think she’d do something like that if she was involved with him?”

  “Grant said she didn’t want me to know, but Blake said he was going to tell me. He never did…and of course, she wouldn’t have. And then, the house burns down, with Blake inside.”

  I can tell that he isn’t seeing it the way I am. He’s looking at me like I’m crazy.

 
“I don’t know if I would have jumped to that conclusion,” he says. “But you know her better than I do.” I realize suddenly that I’m accusing my presumed best friend of killing my brother, and I left her on her knees, crying in the middle of a parking lot.

  Oh my God…

  I want to get off of this tilt-a-whirl and find a safe place to stand so my head can steady until the nausea subsides. “Liss, you’re turning pale,” Tanner says. Are you okay?” I’m so far from being okay. I don’t think I’ll ever find my way back to okay again.

  “Tanner, honey,” Mom says, trotting out of the kitchen with another cup of tea.

  He takes the tea and thanks her. “You hanging in there?”

  She takes him by the elbow and leads him into the other room, speaking softly so I can’t hear what she’s saying. But I don’t need to hear what she’s saying; I assume it’s something along the lines of, “Please look out for Felicity. She’s not doing well. She needs you,” which is the opposite of what I need or want right now.

  I sit with Dad during the time it takes Mom to fill Tanner in on whatever she thinks he needs to help with. Tanner has never denied Mom anything. He’ll do whatever she asks this time, too. I should leave while I have the chance, but considering I’ve been such a lousy daughter for the past two weeks, I should at least say good-bye.

  Mom looks relieved when she and Tanner come back around the corner into the living room. But he looks apprehensive. “Mom, I have to get going. I’ll keep you up to date on what’s going on with the investigation.” I give Dad a kiss on the cheek and Mom a hug.

  “Wait up, Liss. I’ll walk you out to your car.” He follows me to the door. “I’ll give you guys a call later,” Tanner tells them.

  When we make it down the driveway, he gives me a quick hug and opens my car door for me. “Hey, I’ve been thinking about something,” he asks. “Who is this guy you’ve been seeing again?

  “His name is Hayes.”

  “As in Hayes Peyton?” he asks.

  “That’s the one.”

  He scratches at his chin, his focus frozen on me. I shiver from the look he’s giving me. “And you know all about his connection with Blake, then…right?”