“We don’t want you to go to jail either.” I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Where’s Ash?”
“In the shower. Your mom is making up the bed in the guest room for him. I got some clothes from Jake that Ash can borrow. I think.” Dad hesitates, uneasiness appearing in his gaze. “I think he’s going to stay with us for—a while.”
“Oh.” I go still, standing on the opposite side of the kitchen island from my dad. “How long?”
“I don’t know. Does that—bother you? Having Ash here?”
“We’re not really friends.” And that isn’t necessarily a lie.
“You get along with him okay, though? Right? At least you can try to? Poor kid has been through hell today. He’s hurt.” Dad shakes his head, his expression grim. “He’s probably been through hell for some time now.”
“Should he see a doctor?”
“He refuses, but I think we’ll take him to one in the morning. Right now, we all need to go to bed and start the day fresh tomorrow. You included.” He approaches me, smiling as he reaches out and gently squeezes my shoulder. “You finish your homework?”
“Yes,” I lie. I can finish it during lunch tomorrow. Or during other classes. “I’m going to go to bed. Good night, Daddy.”
“Night, princess. Ooops, Autumn.” He chuckles and the sound does something to me. Twists my heart and makes me sad. I run to him, run into him really, my arms wrapped tight around his waist as I bury my face against his chest. His scent is familiar, comforting.
“I love you,” I tell him, my voice muffled.
He runs his hand over my hair, and I swear I hear a hitch in his voice when he says, “I love you, too.”
It’s past one in the morning and I’m walking through my house like some sort of creeper, coming to steal whatever I can find. I’m downstairs, on the opposite side of the house, the side not many people see. I rarely come over here. Mom’s office is here, along with an exercise room she and Dad use on occasion, but not really. Beck is currently requesting they turn it into a theater room, and knowing how things work out for him, he’ll probably get his wish.
The guest bedroom and bath, which is like a second master suite, is on this side of the house. I remember that when we first moved here, I wanted this room for my own so bad. I begged and pleaded, but they weren’t having it.
Now I can see why. I’d be isolated. I could slip in and out of the house easily. In fact, I still can, but I’m not wanting to leave the house.
I’m trying to seek out the newest person who’s staying here.
When I spot the guest bedroom door, I’m surprised to see it’s partially open. I figured he’d keep that door tightly closed and possibly locked. But it’s not.
And then I see a camera flash. Ash is awake. He’s most likely on Snapchat. But would he really take a selfie when he looks as bad as he does? I mean, I don’t know how bad that is, since I haven’t seen him yet, but still…
“Callahan.” His voice is low, but I can still hear it. “Is that you?”
I’m shocked. What did he do, sense my presence? That’s just weird. I go to the doorway, stopping just outside of it. “Can I come in?”
“Hell no. I don’t want you to see me.” The mattress moves, and I assume he’s shifting into a more comfortable position. A grunt escapes him, then a little groan. “Go away.”
Now it’s finally his turn to tell me to go away. “Are you okay?”
“No. No, I’m pretty fucked up, but thanks to your parents, I’m hoping I’ll be okay in a little while,” he answers.
I bet that is the most truthful Ash has ever been with me. And I can appreciate that. “Do you need anything?”
“Just your tender loving care,” he says, and I know he’s teasing me.
“You won’t even let me come in the room.” I’m now standing in the doorway, and there’s no light on, but the shine of the moon through the bare window that faces the backyard illuminates the space with a silvery glow.
“Trust me. You don’t want to. I look fucking awful.” He chuckles under his breath. “Feel pretty damn bad too.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” He says those words quickly, and I respect his wishes.
“I guess I should go.”
“Yeah, you should. Let me get some sleep.”
“You weren’t sleeping when I showed up here.”
He sighs. “Caught me.”
“Who were you talking to?” I squint, trying to make out his features, but there’s a shadow across his face. His mouth appears swollen, and I see there’s a white bandage above his eye. He’s holding himself stiffly, as if it hurts to move, and I feel bad. Despite everything we’ve gone through, how terrible he’s been to me, how awful I’ve been to him, I want to tell him sorry. I want to comfort him.
But I can’t, because he has a girlfriend.
“I wasn’t talking to anyone,” he says, knocking me from my thoughts.
“I saw the flash of your camera.”
“I was taking a photo of myself to document this shit. So I don’t ever forget it.”
I believe him.
Taking a deep breath, I say, “Well, good night.”
I’m turning to leave when his voice stops me. “You going to try to follow me around all the time now, Callahan?” He just experienced the worst thing ever, and now he’s teasing me. He could’ve suffered worse injuries, he could’ve died.
And he’s acting like it’s no big deal.
“Of course not,” I retort, determined not to make it a big deal either.
“Good,” he returns just as fast. “Guess we’re going to have to try real hard to avoid each other then.”
“Guess so,” I say, leaving before I say something more.
Something stupid.
Something untrue.
I enter the kitchen the next morning to find Ash sitting at the counter, eating scrambled eggs and bacon with toast. Mom never makes us breakfast during the weekdays. That’s a weekend thing, and since we’ve moved here, it’s become Dad’s weekend thing.
I’m not in the best mood in the mornings, so seeing Ash get better treatment annoys me. This also means I’m a heartless bitch and I need to get over it.
“Morning,” I say in general, though I’m really talking to Mom, who’s plating more food, I’m assuming for me. I don’t look at Ash. It’s like I’m afraid to see his face, though I need to turn and see it eventually.
“Good morning.” Mom is extra cheerful—also unusual. Pretty sure I inherited my cloudy morning moods from her. She smiles at me and indicates the plate before her with the spatula in her hand. “You want breakfast?”
“Sure.” I take my breakfast and turn, fully facing Ash for the first time. I stare at his face, our gazes meeting, and the plate slips from my fingers, falling onto the wood floor with a loud clatter, eggs and toast and bacon everywhere.
He grins at me, and he reminds me of a pirate with only one eye open. All he needs is a patch. His mouth looks like he received Kylie Jenner-style lip injections, they’re so swollen. His cheek is bruised, along with a few scratches, and there are finger-sized bruises on his neck. “Mornin’, sunshine,” he says, his voice raspier than usual.