“Sure.” Willow watched the threesome stroll away, her mom walking close beside the tall pastor. It hadn’t escaped Willow’s notice that her mom had referred to them as “we.”
Maybe she wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.
• • •
Ashton pulled up to the curb just outside of the Dairy Shed’s fluorescent glow and parked behind a VW Bug covered from fender to wheel in bumper stickers. Political and social statements screamed from the vehicle like a poster board for public activism. Save the Trees. Wake Up and Smell the Fascism! Support Organic Farmers. PEACE! Coexist. Hang Up and Drive!
It was so Gilt Hollow that Ashton grinned.
He shut off the engine and lowered the kickstand, reaching back to assist Penelope as she dismounted. After his near arrest, he’d resisted the urge to return to Keller House, and Willow. If he had any hope of separating her from this mess, he would need to put as much distance between them as possible.
Penelope unhooked her helmet, balanced it on the handlebar, and grabbed Ashton’s hand. “I love this place! Don’t you just love this place?”
Ashton offered her a smile as he climbed off the bike. “Sure.”
Hanging with Penelope Lunarian wasn’t exactly a chore, but tonight her joyous optimism grated on his nerves. His date skipped into the line, tugging her with him. “What’s your favorite flavor? No, wait. Let me guess.” Penelope tapped a finger against her pursed lips as she scanned the list of current offerings. The Dairy Shed always had a few exotic flavors mixed in with the usual chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry.
“I bet you like chocolate, but not plain chocolate …”
A dark-haired little girl in front of them ordered vanilla with extra sprinkles, and Ashton no longer stood with Penelope.
Willow takes a huge lick of ice cream, coating her tongue in rainbow colors, and then props a hand on her narrow hip with a glare. “Why would I try something else when I know what I like?”
“Because getting the same thing every time is boring!”
Shesmirks, vanilladrippingdownherchin.“How’re you liking that lavender lemonade sorbet, Mr. Adventurous?”
Ashton takes a huge bite and fights the sour puckering his lips, but his eye squints, betraying him.
Her uninhibited laughter tugs his mouth into a grin.
“… Peanut butter and chocolate? Ashton, are you listening to me?”
A sharp yank on his arm brought him back to the present and the girl staring at him with narrowed eyes. “Um, yeah, that’s good.”
With ice cream in hand, they crossed the street to the town square, where couples lounged on blankets, a vendor sold kettle corn out of a converted wagon, and the town troubadour—as he liked to call himself—strummed a guitar and sang what sounded like a mash-up of Willie Nelson and Nirvana. They found a table inside a large gazebo covered in tiny lights and fall garland, and sat across from each other.
Penelope ate her kiddie cup of pistachio in uncharacteristic silence. That suited Ashton’s mood perfectly. He barely tasted the salty-sweet Reese’s sundae, which a few weeks ago had been the object of his dreams, as his mind ran over the events of the day. Whoever had vandalized Isaiah’s locker went to a lot of trouble to make it look like Ashton had done it. The flyers stuck inside were the key, but he couldn’t quite put it together. Was it the same person who’d posted them? What did the warning mean? And more importantly, had someone robbed Twisted Beauty, knowing he’d take the fall? Or had that crime been unrelated—an unfortunate coincidence?
“Why did you ask me out?”
Ashton snapped to attention at the wounded tone in Penelope’s voice. “Huh?”
She pushed aside her half-eaten ice cream, hurt drawing down the corners of her mouth. “I thought you liked me, but I’m beginning to think you’re just like Colin.”
Not following, but sure he was nothing like Colin Martin, Ashton reached over and took her hand. “I do like you. But today was kinda crazy.” That’s when he realized that she hadn’t asked him about his near arrest or the vandalism. Like maybe if she didn’t bring it up, it hadn’t actually happened.
“It’s just that …” She looked over at a group of middle school kids laughing at the next table, her usual glow absent from her cheeks. “Colin wanted me on his arm like some kind of trophy. He didn’t really care what I wanted or what was going on in my life.” She turned back to him with pleading eyes. “I can’t be in that kind of relationship again.”
Shame washed over Ashton like a cold wind. Her parents were divorced and had both remarried, starting new families. She’d told him she often felt like an afterthought. He rubbed the back of her hand and leaned forward with a smile. “What’s on your mind, Pen?”
She lit up in a way that only someone who was starved for respect and attention would understand. A need intimately familiar to Ashton.
“Well, I decided today to run for class president. My grades aren’t the best, but student body government will look good on college applications, don’t you think?”
Ashton agreed and let her talk for another thirty minutes, responding in all the right places. By the time they were ready to go, Penelope’s excited chatter had soothed Ashton’s stress and he found himself laughing as they made their way back to his bike.
But before he pulled away from the curb, a young couple strolling arm in arm caught his eye. The girl, in a killer red dress with shiny waves of dark hair down her back, had attracted more than just his attention. Every male in the vicinity watched as Brayden took Willow’s hand and spun her out, then twirled her in a circle, her hair and dress rotating around her, the sweater falling off of her creamy shoulders.
Ashton’s breath seized as Willow fell against Brayden in a fit of giggles. He needed to talk to her, but not here. Not like this. Not when his chest ached with the need to smash his fist into Brayden Martin’s grinning face. Instead, he clamped on the accelerator and roared away, repeating over and over in his head that she deserved happiness, whatever the cost to him.
Willow swam through her dreams, kicking and pushing against resistance as she tried to break through the surface. A nebulous presence chased her, so close she could feel his hot breath on her neck. Icy fingers grasped her arm. She jerked away with a shriek. But she couldn’t escape.
Something was there with her, just out of view. Emerging into consciousness, her eyes fluttered, working to focus in the dark. Prickles raced across her skin, her mouth going dry. She was definitely not alone.
As she blinked, a shadow separated from the wall. She started and shrank back, choking on a scream.
“Shh! Willow, it’s me.”
“Ashton?” She levered up on one arm as his form solidified.
“Yeah, I need to talk to you.”
She sat up and smoothed her hair out of her face, then cleared her throat and rubbed her eyes before she asked, “Is everything okay?”
“Can I sit?”
“Sure.” Willow scooted over to make room on the edge of the bed, her pulse accelerating as his large body sank the side of the mattress. He smelled like the night—open air and freedom. Her eyes adjusting, she watched him run a hand over his tousled hair, the leather of his jacket crinkling as he moved.
Willow had to swallow before she could ask, “Did you just leave the police station?”
“No, they let me go around six.”
“They dropped the charges then?”
“There weren’t any official charges.” He raised one hand in an air quote. “They were just holding me for questioning. Not sure that’s legal, but since Kagawa is king in this town, he can do what he wants.”
“That man is a serious egotist.”
“I was going to say something else, but that works too.”
Ashton readjusted his perch on the edge of the bed and then slipped off his jacket, laying it across the coverlet. Willow suddenly found it hard to breathe. What was he doing in her room—on her bed—in the middle of the night?
“Ash�
�”
“Wil—”
He smiled, a flash of white teeth against dark skin, and Willow’s belly effervesced, her head spinning like the time her mom let her drink champagne.
His voice a rough whisper, he asked, “Willow, what did you tell the chief?” He leaned in, a stripe of moonlight illuminating the turbulent sea blue of his eyes.
Their gazes locked and the intention she read on his face melted her bones like butter. They eased toward one another, the sound of her heartbeat pulsing in her ears. If she looked into his eyes another second, she would drown in them. Gladly.
“Wil, what did you tell him?”
Thankful to have something to focus on, other than the way Ashton had encased her hands in one of his, or his thumb as it moved in lazy circles across the backs of her fingers, she blurted, “I told him you were here with me all night.”
His thumb stopped its rotation. “With you, with you?”
Willow shrugged. “I let him draw his own conclusions.”
He withdrew his hand, his brows crouching over his eyes. “Don’t ever do that again.”
Stiffening her spine, Willow lifted her chin. “You mean claim we slept together, or save your behind from going to prison?”
“Both!” He pushed off the bed and began to pace. “I grew up in jail. On my own. With not one word of encouragement from anybody. I don’t need anyone’s protection.” He stopped and stared down at her. “And most certainly not yours.”
Willow scrabbled up on her knees to face him. “What do you mean, with not a word from anybody? I wrote to you every day for months! Did you throw my letters in the trash without reading them?”
He stilled. “I never got any letters.”
She searched his face. Was he telling the truth? If she’d had the wrong address, the letters would’ve been returned. After several weeks of no response, her mother had called the facility and assured her they were going to the right place. Her mom. Willow sunk back on her heels. Mom had said it over and over: “Maybe you’re better off without him.” She’d never trusted Ashton—never believed in his innocence. Saw him as a bad influence on her only daughter.
“What?”
Willow stared at him, his reaction to her that first day finally making sense. The look of hatred on his face had been cultivated over years of assuming she’d abandoned him … along with everyone else. But she couldn’t tell him about her mom’s betrayal until she spoke to her and confirmed her horrid theory. Grasping for a change of subject, she confessed, “I received another anonymous SnapMail message.”
Instantly alert, he stepped toward the bed. “What did it say?”
With a useless gesture, she pointed toward her phone resting on the nightstand. “It was a message that warned me not to defend you to the police, and then …” She glanced past him to the trees lashing outside the window. Why was she telling him this? He would feel responsible.
“And?”
Goose bumps rose on her skin, reminding her she wore only a tank top and sleep shorts. Reaching behind her, she grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “And … then they sent a picture of Rainn. He was alone, with his backpack over his shoulder, probably walking home from school.”
Ashton shoved the hair off his forehead, clutching the strands as he spun away toward the windows. “Are you kidding me?” He dropped his hand and turned back, his face a mask of shock. “Then why would you do it?”
There was a tap on the door. Willow met Ashton’s eyes, and he dropped to the floor like a cat, just as the door swung open. Rainn’s blond head peeked in. “Sis, I heard something. Like voices.”
“Sorry buddy, I couldn’t sleep and I was listening to music.” She smiled at his too-long hair sticking up on one side, his sleep-red cheeks, his wide green eyes, and a sudden terror gripped her. What if she’d really put her little brother in danger? He was defenseless, small for eight years old. His little arms stuck out of his TMNT pajama shirt like twigs. She crawled out of bed, rushed to the door, and squeezed him tight against her chest.
He returned her hug, and she leaned down to kiss his soft head. He smelled like watermelon—his “big kid” shampoo. “Want me to walk you back to your room and tuck you in?”
Pulling out of her arms, he propped a hand on his narrow waist. “I’m not a baby.”
Willow smiled and ruffled his crazy hair. “I know. I’ll keep my music down.”
“ ‘Kay.”
She watched him pad down the hall and around the corner, then shut her door and turned the lock. Leaning back against the wall, she squeezed her eyes closed against tears. What had she done?
There was a shuffling noise and a muffled “Ow” before Ashton rose up from the other side of the bed, rubbing his head. “That was much easier when we were twelve.”
Willow gave him a tight smile, but her vision swam with regret.
“Hey, don’t cry.” He came around the end of the bed and hesitated by the second post, indecision clear on his face. Then she watched his expression harden with resolve. “I won’t let anything happen to him, Wil. To any of you.”
She swiped at her leaky eyes. “I think I know who’s sending the messages.”
He crossed the space between them. “Tell me.”
So she did. They moved to the plush chairs in the sitting area of her room, and she told him her theory about Isaiah Kagawa and his connection to the kid who’d taken his picture for the flyers.
Ashton leaned back and crossed one ankle over his knee. “But if Isaiah put up the flyers, who would stuff them in his locker?”
Willow arched a brow. “So, you didn’t do that?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed and his lips pressed together as both of his fists clenched, but he didn’t speak.
“Okay, just checking.” Willow put her hands up in a defensive gesture. “Whoever did do it looked a heck of a lot like you.”
He uncrossed his legs and leaned his elbows on his knees. “How do you know that?”
She told him about the trip to the principal’s office and what they’d seen on the security footage.
“And this was Brayden’s idea?”
Willow nodded.
“Brayden Martin? The boy who almost punched me because I wanted to talk to you at Gino’s?”
“Yes, he’s trying hard to make that up to me.”
Ashton muttered a curse under his breath that brought heat seeping into Willow’s cheeks.
But then a detail from the security footage clicked into place. “Wait.” She leaned forward. “At one point the guy filling Isaiah’s locker faced the camera, and it looked as if he was speaking to someone.”
“So he wasn’t alone. I guess that makes sense. With everything happening it would take more than one person to pull off the posters and frame me for the robbery.” Ashton shook his head. “But I still find it hard to believe Isaiah would threaten you or your family.”
“Me too. That’s why I decided to defend you anyway. Because if it is Isaiah trying to scare me, I don’t believe he would hurt a fly.”
“But what if it isn’t Isaiah? Or what if Isaiah isn’t who we think he is?”
Willow tugged the blanket tighter around her shoulders.
“What if I have a chat with Cory? He and Isaiah used to be tight.”
“Cory Martin?” she asked. Cory was Colin Martin’s little brother. A year younger but worlds apart. Cory had been studious, introverted, and played the saxophone like nobody’s business. He was also dead. But Ashton wouldn’t know that. “Um, Ash, Cory’s gone. He was killed over two years ago.”
His blue eyes flared wide. “What? How?”
She swallowed before launching into the story that, unfortunately, everyone in Gilt Hollow knew by heart. “It was a horrible accident. Colin, Cory, Brayden, Isaiah, Mr. Martin, and Chief Kagawa were preparing for a hunting trip to West Virginia. The night before they were supposed to leave, the guys were sleeping over at the Martins’, and Cory went out to the garage to clean his gun …
and it went off.” Willow’s breath caught, and she took a deep breath before continuing. “He shot himself. Isaiah found him and called 911, but it was too late.”
Ashton pressed a fist to his mouth and squeezed his eyes closed. Several moments passed, but she stayed quiet and let him mourn. They’d both known Cory almost their whole lives. But then she realized it was more than grief on his face. She could almost hear the wheels churning in his brain as he processed this news, fitting the piece into the puzzle of what they already knew. When he opened his eyes, the force of his gaze pinned her to the chair.
He stared at her for several long seconds before he sprang to his feet, grabbed his jacket off the bed, and stalked toward the door. He reached out for the handle and then paused. Without turning, he said, “What if it wasn’t an accident?”
A tremor raced across Willow’s shoulders and down her arms. The thought had never occurred to her, but now that he’d said it, she couldn’t deny the possibility.
His back still turned, Ashton whispered, “I can’t involve you in this any longer. Don’t be upset if I don’t talk to you at school.”
Before she could figure out what to say, he slipped out the door and shut it behind him.
CHAPTER Eighteen
The morning following her midnight chat with Ashton, Willow suggested to her mom that Rainn might have issues with a bully, who could possibly take his show-and-tell items and/or push him around. As a result, it was determined that Willow would walk him to school and Mom would take the afternoon shift—even if Rainn wouldn’t admit what was happening.
As she and her brother made their way down Walnut Street, the leaves fell like snow, laying a colorful carpet at their feet. Rainn crunched through the dead foliage, stomping his boots and making roaring noises like a baby T. rex. Willow fell back and let him clomp his way down the street, sucking in a deep breath of wood-smoke-scented air. She’d lain awake half the night thinking about Cory and Ashton and what he’d said before he left her room. Willow had never believed Ashton killed Daniel Turano, accidentally or otherwise. He was a protector. She’d known it from the day she met him when he’d stopped her from jumping her bike over a creek by convincing her that the angle of the ramp wasn’t steep enough and she’d end up crashing into the opposite bank. Over the years, she’d watched him go out of his way to help old women carry groceries down the street, stop a kid from taking another kid’s lunch money, rescue a pet hamster from a drain pipe—you name it. The kid had been born with a hero complex.
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