“Okay.” He sighed. “Can I take you home?”
“Yes. If you don’t mind.”
“Of course, I don’t mind.”
“Thanks.” God, she sounded so stiff. “I’ll let Ella know.”
They were all formal again, but he took her hand as they walked from the gym. He didn’t let go until they were to the car. He opened the passenger side and held out a hand to help her up.
Ashley paused.
“What’s wrong?” He visibly tensed. “I haven’t been drinking if that’s––“
“Stop it.” Ella cut him off. “Why would you think I’d assume the worst of you?”
He shrugged. His gaze went distant. His voice turned remote, light with false calm. “Oh, you know. Apples and trees and all that. Kaylee was right about that part.”
“No, she was not.” Ashley gave him a hard look and held up her sticky dress. “I don’t want to ruin your seats.”
His brows went up in surprise. “Have you looked at these seats?”
She did, then let out a laugh. “Okay—they’re kind of nasty.” But she turned serious on him again. “I know you’re not like your father, but it looks like I’m not the one who needs convincing.”
His face crumpled, revealing long-held pain. Fears. Wounds, not healed. “How can you know what I am?” he asked quietly. “When I don’t?”
“You could have torn Kaylee to shreds back there. You could have lashed back deeper and more cutting, but you didn’t. I would have, if I’d had my wits about me. Instead, you told her she needed help––which is true. I think part of you feels sorry for her, but the important thing is, you chose not to attack with words or fists. We all make these choices,” she said. “They show us who we are.”
He stared at her with an expression she couldn’t interpret. “Pretty amazing words, there, Patches.”
Ashley’s hands fluttered with a rush of fresh nerves. “It’s not original material. I picked it up from Ella’s mom at meditation class.”
His lips tipped up at the corners. “I thought it sounded familiar.”
“Well, whoever said it first, it’s true.” She climbed in Kitten’s passenger seat.
He braced his arms on the doorframe and leaned inside, close. “You’re pretty amazing, too, Patches.” With a little smile, he closed the passenger door and came around to the driver’s side.
Ashley let out a giant breath. She regretted saying she wanted to go home. She wanted to spend more time with Tyler, but reality couldn’t be delayed. Getting closer to him would only make it harder to leave if she had to return to Boston.
They arrived at Ashley’s house a little past nine. Tyler had remembered where she lived. This time, he turned down the driveway and parked in front of the door.
Mom’s car was gone. Relief swept through her, but just because the car wasn’t here, didn’t mean her mother was gone for good. “Come inside,” she said. “You can meet my dad.”
He looked pained. “Uh, no. I think I’ll just…”
“Come on, he’s great. You’ll like him.”
“But…will he like me?” He looked out at the grand, three-story mansion with an expression of unease. “This is a long way from my neighborhood. In every possible way.”
“My dad’s not a snobby ass. I promise.”
Tyler slowly, reluctantly, got out and followed her to into the house.
Ashley nudged him inside and closed the door behind them.
Dad, who had clearly been waiting for her, sailed out of the kitchen, but his stride faltered when he spotted Tyler hovering by the front door. Before she could ask about her mother, Dad had locked on Tyler and was clearly not addressing anything until his evaluation was complete. It was fascinating and alarming, as Ashley had never seen her father like this––in full-on lawyer mode––as he assessed the young man in his house.
Tyler, looking unbearably tense, nodded stiffly. “Hello, Mr. Sloane. I drove Ashley home. She wanted to leave.”
“Tyler Fitzsimmons, right?”
Tyler nodded.
Dad looked back to Ashley’s tear-smudged face, punch-stained dress. His eyes narrowed. “What happened?”
“My dress got ruined at the dance,” she said swiftly, in case her father began to think Tyler had something to do with her disheveled state. “A mean pirate girl spilled punch on it.”
“And the tears?”
She looked down. “Because of Mom.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
There was a pause, a moment of such incredible awkwardness, Ashley’s head buzzed with alarm.
Tyler appeared to have decided he was about as welcome as an ice storm. “I get it. I’m going.” He shifted toward the door. He held up a hand as if trying to sooth a bear. “Good night, Ashley. Apologies, Mr. Sloane.”
“Hold on.” Dad shook his head with a sigh. “My apologies, Tyler. I’m not at my best. It’s been a…trying night and I’m not yet used to boys driving my daughter home. Let me try this again.” He let out a tired chuckle and stuck out a hand. “Hi, Tyler. Thank you for bringing Ashley home safely. Would you like to stay? There’s some snacks in the kitchen.”
“Um, no thanks.” Tyler shook her father’s hand but looked wary about it. “I should go. Thanks.”
“Well then, you’re invited to join us for dinner one evening next week.”
What did this mean? Her head felt light. Dad sounded as if Ashley was staying. As if her mother wasn’t demanding she return home.
“Sure,” Tyler said. “I, ah. I’ll check my schedule at work.”
“Excellent.” Her dad smiled. “Please give my best to Christine.”
Tyler looked surprised at that. “I will.”
Ashley caught Tyler’s sleeve as he turned to leave. “Thank you.” She leaned up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “If not for you, this night would have been a disaster.”
“Anytime.” He scratched his head, still looking nervous. “Can I call you?”
“You better.”
He smiled down at her. One of those heartbreaking grins that made her stomach flip over.
After he left, Ashley turned to her dad. “So, where’s Mom?”
“On her way back to Boston.”
“Is she coming back?”
“Not unless you want her to,” he said.
She couldn’t even speak through her relief. She just nodded.
He bent, setting them eye to eye. “Ashley, I need to know something. And I need the truth.”
“What?”
“What happened in Boston? Why did you leave?”
Ashley’s instinct was to clamp her mouth shut and not speak of it, as she had for the past several months. But she had to tell him. She trusted him, this parent who had always been such a stranger to her.
“Mom’s boyfriend…” she stopped, pulled in a deep breath. “He kind of started hitting on me. It was just stupid, teasing stuff in the beginning, but it changed after he moved into the town house. It wasn’t teasing anymore. I didn’t feel safe around him.”
“Did you tell your mother?”
She nodded with a pinch of irrational shame. “She thought I was overreacting. Lying to get attention.”
He cleared his throat and looked away. A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Ashley, your mom and I decided to let you choose where you want to finish your senior year and I promise, you will never feel unsafe in your own home again, no matter where it is. If you wish to return to Boston, that-that man will not be allowed anywhere near you, unless he wishes to become well acquainted with a jail cell. And a hospital. Not in that order.”
She turned to face him, but still couldn’t look at him. “So, you want me to stay?”
“I have always wanted you to stay,” he said quietly.
She digested that with a nod. “I don’t want to go back to Boston.”
“Because of Tyler?”
“No.” She looked at him, a mess of emotions. “Because of you.”
<
br /> She caught a glimpse of surprise, of tears in her father’s eyes before he crushed her in a hug.
“I love you, Pumpkin.”
“I love you, too, Dad.”
Ashley swallowed with effort. “She can’t make me go back?”
“If anything, I could sue for full custody, based on what happened. Your mom was vague––she didn’t come out and say this guy harassed you, but I got her to agree to leave the decision of where you live up to you. I’m having our attorneys put it in writing.”
Relief nearly buckled her knees. “Really? And she’s not mad?”
“Yes, really.” He stepped back, rubbed his unshaven chin. “And who cares if she’s mad? She screwed up badly and knows it. Expect a lot of designer handbags sent your way.”
A gurgle of laughter escaped Ashley’s mouth. “She does deal in handbags like currency.”
“Don’t I know it.” He grimaced. “I paid ten grand for one once.”
“The Hermés. She still loves that one.”
“Fantastic.” He took a deep breath. “But on a serious note, I’m arranging for you to talk to a professional about what happened in Boston who––“
“Oh, no,” Ashley cut in. “I’m fine. Besides, he never actually did anything. He just––“
“I’m afraid it’s non-negotiable. You may think you’re fine now, but this isn’t the kind of thing you box up and stick in the mental attic. What that man did made you so afraid for your safety, you upended your life and moved to another state. If you encounter another man like this one day, the contents of that box might spill out. Leave you unprepared.” Red splotches arched over his cheekbones, the only sign he was still furious over what had happened with Mark the Creep. “I want you to talk to someone, Ashley.”
She had to admit, he had a point. And she couldn’t go on with the delusion that Mark was the only creep she’d ever meet in her life. Or bet that his harassment wouldn’t affect her later on. “Okay,” she said. “If you think it will help put all that behind me, I’ll do it.”
He slung an arm around her shoulders with an audible release of breath. He sagged in clear relief as he nodded to the kitchen. “Good. How about some ice cream?”
“Sounds perfect, Dad.”
Chapter 12
Tyler
Tyler’s shift at the Starlight Grille was almost over. It was early November, so reservations were only recommended, not necessary. The last loads of dishes were coming out of the machine. The last customers of the day were gone. Washing dishes certainly wasn’t glamorous––although the restaurant was––but it was proud work, as his grandfather used to say. The owners, Gray and, paid well and treated the employees fairly. Sometimes on slow nights, like in the dead of winter, Tyler would bring his guitar and he and “Cool Hands” Luke would throw an impromptu jam session. Luke played a wicked jazz piano. He was the only person as keen to see him pursue music after graduation as Tyler’s mother and had even offered Tyler money––“a personal scholarship,” Luke called it, which Tyler had politely refused. Money wasn’t what kept him in Serenity Harbor.
On Sundays, the restaurant closed after brunch. Tyler had watched the clock like a hawk today. That afternoon was his first official date with Ashley. She was meeting him there, after his shift, then they were going into town for…he didn’t know yet, but it would involve pizza at some point. Cooper Memorial High’s hockey team had a game against Mission Falls. Maybe they’d go see it. He knew Ashley liked hockey, and he didn’t mind it. And unless a meteor fell from the sky and vaporized them, he was going to kiss her. Enough with the near misses, already.
A week had passed since the Halloween Dance Fiasco, as he called it to himself. It had been a disaster of a night, but good things had come of it. Ashley was staying in Serenity Harbor and amazingly, she wanted to go out with him, despite his less-than-worthy circumstances. It still worried him, but she didn’t expect four-star dinners and emeralds. Her dad really did seem cool with him and since he’d been to her house a few times over the week, he was feeling a little less freakish there. He was still not ready to show her his house, though.
All in all, things were good. He and Ashley never ran out of things to talk about. And there certainly was no lack of chemistry between them. Electricity practically zinged between them in the halls at school, provoking plenty of rolled eyes and teasing. There was no reason not to give things a shot with Ashley. It was all temporary, anyhow. After next summer, she’d leave for college and the relationship would naturally end, but he wouldn’t have regrets. Hopefully, they’d remain friends. Hopefully, it wouldn’t tear him to shreds when he saw her around town with a new guy during semester breaks. He didn’t even want to think about that.
His mom poked her head through the kitchen doors. As head waitress, she was the last to leave. “Hey, Ty. I’m heading out,” she yelled over the noise of the dishwasher.
Tyler waved good bye, then unloaded a full rack of clean water glasses. A few minutes later, he had a stack of four racks which he hefted to distribute to the wait stations for tomorrow. Ashley would be there in about twenty minutes. Plenty of time to wash up, change, and think of something silly and charming to say to her.
He walked into the dining room, racks stacked up to his nose, when he heard the noise. It was one he recognized instantly––his mother crying.
The water glasses smashed on the floor where Tyler dropped them. He ran across the room, dodging tables.
Tyler’s mother was backed up against the bar, arms trying to shield her head. Her cheekbone was swelling. She was trying to be brave, even as tears streamed over her face. This was bad. The fight was almost gone from her, and his mother had plenty of fight.
Danny Fitzsimmons loomed over his ex-wife like a triumphant prize fighter, fists clenched. “You selfish bitch,” he snarled. His voice was clear. Nothing about him indicated he was drunk. That was a problem. He was doubly mean on the rare instances he was sober. “You think you can interfere with my life? You got your divorce, and half my paychecks, now you’re stealing money rightfully mine. Tell me––how are you paying for that fancy lawyer, Christine? You don’t have that kind of money. Or are you working off his fee on your back?”
Danny raised his fist. He had no idea what his father was rambling about––what lawyer?––but panic spurred a surge of adrenaline, flooding his body with strength and blanking clear thought from his mind. He hurtled forward, knocking the large man away from his mother. They fell to the floor together. Tyler had the element of surprise, and saw it reflected on his father’s face the instant before he landed his first punch. Tyler’s vision tinged red. Years of pain and fear and shame and unnamable, dark emotions surged beneath his skin as he landed another blow. And another.
And another.
Strong hands gripped Tyler’s arms and hauled him off Danny. He struggled to get free, still caught in the throes of fury.
“Easy now, son.” Chief Biddleford’s calm voice spoke directly in his ear. “It’s over, now.”
Two deputies held Tyler tight, but there was no need anymore. He could barely hear over the roaring in his ears. He closed his eyes and sank to his knees as nausea twisted his stomach in a knot. His entire body shook. When he opened his eyes, people were everywhere. The Grille’s head chef spoke to a police officer. He’d been tucked away in the office, but must have been the one who called the police. An EMT rolled his moaning father away on a stretcher. His mother was refusing to get on one herself, demanding to go to her son. No, she was told. We don’t know what kind of state he’s in. Tyler almost laughed at that. A light breeze could knock him over right now. He watched the medics talk her into the other waiting ambulance and wondered if she would ever forgive him for resorting to the same violence Danny favored. How could he forgive himself?
He’d ruined everything. His and Mom’s jobs were as good as gone. He’d have to pay for all the damage done in the restaurant, and he was probably going to jail. He should have found another way to s
top Danny. He should have seen through all the red, stopped and called 9-1-1. Like a rational person.
“All right, Tyler,” Chief Biddleford said. “We need to go have a talk at the police department.”
“Am I under arrest?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Should you be?”
“I have no idea,” Tyler replied, honestly.
The police chief wiped a hand over his face. He’d been doing this job long enough to have dealt with Danny Fitzsimmons and probably assumed he’d be hauling the drunkard’s son down to the station soon enough. Apples and trees, after all. “We just need to find out what happened here. Have you been drinking?”
Tyler shuddered. “No. I was finishing my shift. I was….” He was going to do something after work, but his thoughts were too chaotic to untangle.
“Do you need medical attention for that hand?”
Tyler looked distractedly at his hand, which was red and swollen, but not broken. “It’s fine,” he said weakly.
A flash of color caught his eyes and he looked up. Standing in the open entrance of the restaurant and staring wide-eyed at him was Ashley Sloane-Whittaker. Tyler felt everything inside him sink like a rock to the bottom of a lake.
Of course. Their first date.
She moved to approach him, but one of the deputies held out a hand. “Miss, you’re going to have to leave.”
She paled, backed out of the way. Tyler felt her gaze on him, but he couldn’t return it. Shame overwhelmed him, sent fresh pain blooming behind his eyes. Chief Biddleford helped him to his feet. The chief and a deputy’s firm hands led him toward the exit. Toward her.
“Did she see…?” he asked.
“She’s the one who called us,” Chief Biddleford replied shortly. “Your girlfriend?”
He shook his head. Not now. Not ever, after this.
When they were passing her, Tyler finally brought himself to look at her. It was probably the last time he’d see her. Her thoughts were impossible to guess, but his entire being rebelled at the fear in her eyes. A riot of emotions tore at him. He felt like crying, and screaming, and running.
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