The air I was holding comes rushing out of me as I look between the two of them.
“What’s going on? Where’s A-Ash?” I stutter, not really wanting to say his name out loud.
Stephen’s shoulders sag before he looks to the floor. Mom races over to him and wraps her arm around his shoulder.
“B-but you said he was okay. Just cuts and bruises,” I whisper, misreading Stephen’s reaction.
“Oh, he is, sweetie. He’s fine. He just—”
“He refused to get on the airplane,” Stephen says, standing and marching to the other side of the kitchen.
Mom and I watch as he reaches into the top cupboard and pulls down a bottle of whiskey, twists the top, and takes a large drink.
My hand clenches with my need to do exactly the same thing.
“So... he’s not moving here?” I ask, hating the hope that fills my voice. I know it’s a pointless question. Ash isn’t eighteen yet and I’m not sure he has any other options aside from Stephen—juvie, maybe.
“Y-yeah, he is. He’s just... making his own way.”
“W-what does that m-mean exactly?” My voice betrays me, cracking the whole way through the question.
“Said he needed some time.” Stephen rests his palms on the counter and hangs his head.
“He’ll be here in a few days, I’m sure,” Mom says soothingly, although I’m not sure it has any effect on Stephen.
I’m right because not two seconds later does he march from the kitchen, the bottle in hand, without saying a word.
“He’s hurting too. He still cared about Leanora,” Mom muses.
I fall down into the chair beside her. “So, what now? We just wait for him to appear?”
“I guess so. Not sure there’s much else we can do.”
“What about the funeral?”
“It’s next Friday. Stephen and Ash have already got things ready for it.”
I nod, trying to keep my expression neutral. I shouldn’t be so relieved that no sooner has he arrived then he’ll be heading back for the funeral. The guy’s just lost his mom, I really should be more concerned about him than I am myself.
“I’m going to fucking ruin you, little one.” His words rip through me like a tsunami and I shudder from head to toe.
No, maybe I’m right to be worried about myself. I’d never wish for anyone to lose a parent. I can’t even imagine how awful it must be. But at the same time, I do believe in karma. It’s all I’ve got to latch on to right now.
“So...” Harley says on a video call later that evening. “How was it?”
“He’s not here,” I admit, flipping over onto my stomach and propping my cell up on my pillow.
“Oh. He’s not coming now?”
“He is. He’s just... taking his time.” I want to say he’s torturing me, but I’m sure he’s not so much as thought of me once since walking out our door that night.
“Oh, well... that could be a good thing, I guess. Give him time to get his head straight.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
A knock sounds out on Harley’s door before she calls, “Come in.”
“Hey, is that Rubes?” another familiar voice says before the camera bounces as Poppy jumps on Harley’s bed.
“Oh look, Zayn let you up for air?” I ask, much to Harley’s disgust.
“I thought we agreed not to talk about such things,” she mutters. “You two need to talk dirty details about my brother, then you do it well away from me.”
“Calm your tits, I didn’t come in here to tell you how he just stuck his—”
“La la la la,” Harley sings with her fingers in her ears, much to Poppy’s amusement.
“How’s it going?” Poppy says after a beat, her face turning serious as she looks at me through the camera.
“Ugh.” I recall what I just told Harley.
“It’ll be fine. You’ll see. He was just playing games before. He’s got bigger issues to worry about now. He won’t even bother you.” I raise a brow at her, unable to even consider believing her words. If what went down between us was so easy to forget, then why haven’t I?
Why is it that any time I’ve kissed a guy since then, I’ve thought of him? I’ve compared them to him. And so far, no one has come close to making me feel what he did.
“So, is he going to be starting at Rosewood?” Poppy asks.
“Please, can we talk about something else?” I groan, already fed up with how much of my headspace my illusive stepbrother is taking up.
“Sure. So, Zayn and I were talking—”
“Really?” Harley barks. I can’t help but laugh at her. She might be happy for her brother and Poppy, but it’s amusing as hell watching her try to come to terms with the fact one of her best friends is warming his bed at night.
I’m on edge for the next two days. Every time a door closes at home, or a car drives past, I’m on full alert expecting him to come crashing through my bedroom door and take all of this out on me. But he never does.
As I fall asleep Wednesday night, I begin to wonder if he’s even going to show at all and his promise of turning up was just a way to get Stephen off his back.
For the first time all week, I don’t toss and turn for hours before finally drifting off, although that could just be out of pure exhaustion. Chelsea is working us harder and harder in the lead up to nationals. We’re practicing twice a day during the week and all Saturday mornings. It’s hardcore, but I love it. Cheer is what I’ve always lived for and I’m on the cusp of great things, I can feel it.
Something stirs me awake a few hours later, dragging my eyes open, I find my room in darkness and the house in silence. But despite the lack of evidence, a shiver continues to race down my spine.
He’s here.
Flicking the lamp on beside me, I almost expect to find him sitting in the chair on the other side of my room watching me sleep like a creep, but my room is empty, thankfully.
Throwing back the covers, I silently pull my door open and slip out into the hallway.
The door to the room next door is open as it was when I passed earlier and the light is off, but as I step farther into the hallway something outside catches my eye.
I walk up to the window and look down at the driveway.
A gasp falls from my lips the second my eyes lock with a dark pair I feared I might find.
3
Ashton
My heart pounds in my chest as I stare up at the pair of eyes that have been haunting me since Halloween.
I swallow nervously and school my features. The last I need is for her to be able to read how I’m feeling before I’ve even stepped foot inside that fucking house.
So many times on the ride here, I almost turned around and headed in the opposite direction. I don’t need the people under this roof. I could find a job, carve myself a life somewhere no one knows me.
But every time I went to do it, I couldn’t.
Something always drew me here.
Her?
I like to think not, but as we stand staring at each other, something crackling between us, I can’t help but wonder if she could well be the reason.