14. twelve
twelve
. . .
ASPEN
Once the mountain of paperwork was completed, I passed it over to the nurses and shuffled to the first floor, where the billing department was.
A woman with bright red hair waved me into her office, the sign next to the door telling me her name was Marjorie and she was the supervisor of the department.
“Hello!” she said brightly when I entered. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve been here for the last two weeks, and I was just discharged, but I wanted to discuss my bill before I leave. I’m not local, so I was hoping to enroll in paperless billing and figure out a repayment plan.”
“We can absolutely look into that for you. Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll pull up your file.”
I flinched at the thought of parking my tender skin on the hard wooden chair. “I’ll stand, if you don’t mind.” Tattooed brows creased, and I gestured to my left side, clarifying, “Burns.”
Expression clearing, she said, “What is your name?”
“Aspen McKay. ”
Her fingers flew over the keyboard, but she didn’t look away from me. “I’m sorry for what happened to you.”
“Thank you.”
“Sheriff Lawless is a wonderful man. He’ll do whatever he can to bring your attacker to justice.”
I barely withheld a snort. My two interactions with the man hadn’t exactly been stellar, but the sheriff’s department was actually my next stop, so we’d see if the third time was the charm.
“I hope you’re right,” I mumbled noncommittally.
Marjorie gave me a reassuring smile, her bright pink lips parting to reveal stark white teeth, then returned her attention to her computer.
“Let’s see here…Aspen McKay…Huh. That’s interesting.”
“I’m sorry, what is?”
“It seems your bill has already been paid in full.”
“What?” I asked dumbly.
“You have a zero balance,” she said slowly, like she was worried I’d also sustained brain damage.
Actually, I had, but the concussion had cleared up, the lingering mind fog and headache lifting a few days ago.
Maybe I wasn’t as healed as I thought.
Still, I took my shiny new iPhone out of the pocket of my brand new crossbody bag and navigated to my banking app. Maybe my Mom had used my card to pay it without my knowledge? I had yet to even see a bill, so I had no idea how much I owed, but I doubted the sum had been small enough to be covered by what I had in my checking account.
Regardless, the transaction history didn’t reflect any disbursements to Dusk Valley Memorial.
“Does your system tell you who paid?” I asked an expectant Marjorie when I looked up from my phone.
Squinting at the screen and arrowing down a few clicks, she said, “Donald and Leesa McKay. Oh! Those must be your parents. Wow, that was so generous of them. ”
“Yeah, it was something alright,” I muttered, then shot Marjorie a wide grin. “Could I have a copy of the invoice for my records?”
“Sure thing.”
Five minutes later, sheaf of papers detailing my stay and care at Dusk Valley Memorial in hand, I exited the hospital for the first time in two weeks.
The gentle breeze brushed my skin, cooling my angry red cheeks.
Mom and I were about to have a reckoning, so I took a seat on a little bench in the sunshine right outside the doors and dialed her number.
“Hi, honey!” she crowed. “I’m sorry about earlier. I just worry about you, you know? But I know you can take care of yourself, and as long as you?—”
I cut off her rambling with six words.
“Did you pay my hospital bill?”
The air at the other end of the line was dead for so long I pulled my phone from my ear to make sure she hadn’t hung up on me. Finding the call was still connected, I said, “Mom?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “Your father and I made the decision to pay your bill for you.”
“You had no right ,” I gritted out, my jaw aching from clenching it so tightly.
“We’re your parents, and it is our right to take care of you, to help you when you’re struggling.” She heaved a sigh laced with years of exasperation. “Honestly, Aspen, you’re taking this whole independence thing too seriously.”
I huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. Your refusal to let people help you is only going to end up hurting you in the long run. It’s likely why you’re still single, and why you’ve never really had a serious relationship.”
The words struck me in the chest like a stab wound, catching me so off guard I dropped my phone onto the bench at my side. My mom’s voice became a distant squawking.
Losing the one person in this world who understood me better than anyone, who had been my sounding board for all things like boys, fashion, school, or life in general, had taken an obvious toll on me. I was only sixteen when Lola died, at a critical stage of my formative years, and suddenly, my rock vanished, leaving me floating in space.
In all the years I’d been alive, I’d never once doubted my parents loved me. Before, I thought it had been unconditional, but the way Mom had been acting lately…maybe her love came with strings, and the fire singed them all away, once again leaving me untethered.
Did I want a family, a husband and children of my own? Eventually, sure. But at this point, I’d spent so long alone I almost couldn’t imagine making space in my solitary existence for anyone else.
Clearly, I didn’t even have a good relationship with my parents. How could I expect to be happy with a man?
Finally, I picked the phone back up, Mom’s words going in one ear and out the other.
“Good to know what you really think, Mom,” I said when she stopped speaking. “I don’t want to talk to you for a while. I’ll reach out when I’m ready.”
“Asp—” she started, but I hung up.
Well fuck .
If I sat on that bench and thought about it for too long, I’d likely never get up, so I stood and put one foot in front of the other…as far as the sidewalk, anyway. After that, I had to pull out my phone and see if this town had any sort of public transit system. They did, but it was either wait thirty minutes for the bus or walk the ten minutes to the police department.
The day was gorgeous, and I’d been cooped up inside for too damn long, so I opted to walk .
By the time I pushed inside the department, I was regretting it. My side ached like a bitch, and after two weeks of being sedentary, I was panting like a dog.
Clearly recognizing me from last time, the desk sergeant didn’t get up, but she did say, “I’ll buzz the sheriff for you. And I’m real sorry for your ordeal, Miss McKay. It’s good to see you out and about.”
“Thank you,” I said, and she lifted the phone, calling back to the sheriff. After a brief conversation, she buzzed me back into the bullpen.
Eyes tracked me across the room once again, my skin crawling with the sensation of having too many people staring at me. When I reached the sheriff’s office, the door slightly ajar, I pushed inside without waiting for an invitation and slammed it shut behind me. Then I dropped unceremoniously into the chair I’d been in before, a hiss of pain leaving me when my injuries met the cushion.
His brow was curved toward his hairline when I met his gaze.
“Sorry. I hate people staring at me.”
“Understandable. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what happened to you. I can’t remember if I said it before…”
Before , when the first time he’d tried to conduct this interview sent me into a panic attack.
I waved him off, not needing his sympathy or pity.
“It’s fine,” I said. “Let’s get this over with.”
The sheriff looked like he wanted to press the issue, to say something else, but wisely kept his mouth shut. He withdrew his phone, opened the voice note app, and pressed record.
“Sheriff Lawless here with Aspen McKay, second interview in regards to the events of the prom night fire.” He paused and looked up at me. While he was a little more rugged than Crew, a little less clean, they had the same eyes complete with the same fringe of thick lashes. The realization settled me. Sheriff Lawless wasn’t here to harm me in any way. He merely wanted to catch whoever had done this to me. “You good?”
Swallowing hard and squaring my shoulders, sitting up as straight as I could muster while favoring my left side, I nodded. “Yeah.”
And then I let it all out, being as detached as possible. I may have felt significantly calmer this time around, but that didn’t mean I wanted to relive the events of that night any more than I did before. The sheriff asked gently probing questions, and I did my best to answer them. There was still a good chunk of time missing—namely the entire day between being abducted and coming to in the middle of that inferno. I had to assume my brain was suppressing the memories for the sake of my mental health.
Still, it irritated me to no end that I couldn’t remember .
There had to be something lingering in there that would lead us to this guy. I was the key to unlocking the entire thing, and I couldn’t get my goddamn mind to cooperate.
“And then I woke up in the hospital,” I finished, breathing heavily like I’d run a marathon.
Trauma sure was fun.
The sheriff clicked his pen, tapping it against the desk, then stopped the recording.
“I want to ask you something off the record, if that’s alright with you.”
“Okay…”
“Your burns,” he began. “I talked to Crew, got his statement about the incident, and he didn’t seem to think the fire had gotten close enough to you to cause them…”
Unfortunately, I remembered how I’d gotten them with stark, unending clarity. So far, that had been the one thing no one had pressed me on. They’d all assumed they’d been a result of the fire, which wasn’t wrong. But they weren’t accidental.
That fucker had purposely lit me on fire .
“The time between the Swallow parking lot and waking up in that garage is gone,” I started, “but I know the exact moment I came to, and it wasn’t when Crew found me. I woke up because I was in the worst pain I’d ever experienced in my life. Took me a few heartbeats to realize I was literally on fucking fire.” Tears spilled from my eyes and dripped down my cheeks, and I angrily swiped them away. Then I gave the sheriff a watery, sarcastic smile. “That stop, drop, and roll shit they teach you in school really works.”
Lane’s face had blanched white, his eyes wide as saucers.
“I stopped when I hit the wall, and surprisingly, the cool concrete actually felt great on my wounds.”
“What a fucking nightmare,” he said quietly.
I choked on a laugh. “Yeah, you’re telling me.”
“Thank you for sharing. I know that couldn’t have been easy.”
“I’ve been through worse,” I told him.
Curiosity appeared in his expression, but that wasn’t a can of worms I was opening ever , least of all with this man I barely knew. Then again, I wasn’t sure it got worse than someone literally setting you on fire in the hopes you’d die.
As if recognizing he’d get nothing further from me, he leaned back in his chair and regarded me. “You’re free to go, Miss McKay. I’ve got your number if anything else comes up.”
I rose from my seat and nodded. “I’ll be around.”
His brows drew together. “Surely you mean that figuratively?”
“Nope. I’ll be in town for the foreseeable future.”
The relaxed man from a moment ago disappeared in an instant. The next thing I knew, he was on his feet, palms flat on his desk as he leaned toward me.
“I’m going to have to advise against that.”
“I’m afraid there’s not much you can do about it.”
“I could arrest you. ”
I snorted. “For what, exactly?”
“I’ll think of something.”
“And I’ll slap you with a civil suit for unlawful arrest.”
I could practically hear his teeth grinding together as he considered his next move. Likely, he knew he’d never talk me into leaving, but he gave it a final shot anyway.
“You really need to leave, Aspen. Don’t give this guy any more opportunities to hurt you.”
I shook my head emphatically, my dark hair whipping around my shoulders, slapping me in the cheeks. I looked him dead in the eye, brooking no room for argument as I said, “I can’t do that, Sheriff. I’m sorry, but this is personal now. I’m not going anywhere.”
With nothing further to say, I left the room, but the sheriff wasn’t done, and his murmured parting words found and followed me anyway.
“It’s your funeral.”