Chapter 4 Ashton
ASHTON
Don’t expect the full story from a toxic person.
They’ll never recognize the part they played in the destruction they left in their path.
—Ashton’s Secret Thoughts
“Excuse me.” I lean forward in the taxi, grateful for the kind-looking woman behind the wheel. “Is there any chance you have an iPhone charger I could use?”
My driver smiles warmly, adjusting her black and pink Philly Kings hat as brown ringlets bounce around her beautiful face. She reaches into the back seat, a charging cord in hand, and offers it to me. “Rough night?”
“How’d you guess?” I ask, laughing sarcastically as I plug my phone in, then slide back into the seat and buckle my belt. “Do I look that bad?”
She purses her lips as she looks at me through the rearview mirror.
“I mean, you’re not exactly rocking raccoon eyes, but you look a little .
. .” she hesitates, and I shrug, cutting her off before she has to come up with a way to nicely tell me I look like I just did the walk of shame right out of Philadelphia International Airport.
“Yeah. I get it. My flight was delayed yesterday, and I ended up stranded last night in a snowstorm in Chicago.” I leave out the important little nuggets that haven’t stopped haunting me since I woke up and stick with generic instead.
“I’m also here to deal with some family drama.
So I think it’s safe to say rough is a pretty accurate way to describe the past twenty-four hours. ”
Based on her hat, if I gave her my last name, she’d be awfully interested in my family drama, and would probably fangirl over my father or the man who’s currently taking up the spot of he who shall not be named equally, making the decision to change the topic an easy one.
“Do you know how long it’ll take to get to Kroydon Hills Hospital? ”
“In this traffic?” She taps the map on the screen. “About forty minutes.”
My phone finally comes back to life as we pull away from the curb, and I debate my next move for a moment before sliding my finger over the screen and opening my texts.
Ashton
Hey, Finn. Are you at work?
The bubbles pop up on the screen immediately, and I thank God for my best friend and his addiction to the screen.
Finn
Am I ever not working?
Ashton
You’ve got to sleep at some point.
Finn
Sleep is overrated. What’s up?
Ashton
Just wanted to talk.
My phone vibrates immediately with an incoming call.
I love this man. Some days, I think he’s the only family I have.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in surgery or something?” I ask instead of saying hello. “Pretty sure doctors making phone calls from the operating room is frowned on.”
“I’m eating breakfast, smart-ass,” he laughs in the way only he does. The one that calms my racing mind and reminds me to breathe.
“It’s almost noon,” I argue because it’s easier than telling him what’s happening. “I wasn’t aware surgeons had time for brunch.”
“I’ve been on for about twenty hours straight.
I really don’t care if it’s breakfast, brunch, or a damn picnic.
This bagel tastes like a Thanksgiving feast, I’m so fucking hungry.
” He switches to FaceTime, and I’m treated to the view of my best friend holding an everything bagel and cream cheese up in front of his face.
While Jamie looks like a mix between his parents, Finn looks like a carbon copy of his mom.
All dark hair, fair skin, and beautifully distinguished features.
He’s handsome and funny and smart and safe, and I’ve never been attracted to him a single day in my life.
Even if God knows it would have been easier if I had been.
If only I could say the same about his asshole brother. “You in a car, Ash?”
“A taxi, actually.” I hesitate before adding, “I’m in Kroydon Hills . . .”
The driver clears her throat. “Not for another thirty minutes, you’re not.”
“Well, not yet, but soon,” I correct myself. “I just left the airport. I’m actually heading to your hospital.”
“You’re what? Why? Is everything okay?” he asks one question after the other, going into fixer mode immediately.
Finn’s good at that. Fixing things. Me included. “Do you need me to—”
“No. I’m good,” I try to reassure him. But it would probably help if I was able to reassure myself. “I’ve got it covered. It’s just—my mom . . .” My throat works to swallow down my anger. “She was in another accident.”
“Shit, Ash. Again?” He cringes as the words tumble out. “I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t feel bad. You’re not wrong. I’m not sure exactly what happened yet, just what charges she’s facing.
Lucky me, I’m her emergency contact.” God, I sound like such a bitch, but my mother hasn’t been a mother in a really long time.
And even if I may understand what pushed her over the edge, I still resent . . . well, this.
I hate what she’s done with her life.
Done to herself and to our family.
I hate that I’m the one who has to fix it for her.
At least the one who has to try. Because she certainly won’t.
We all broke that day, not just her.
We all broke, and our family unit shattered.
“Anyway . . . I should be there in a few minutes.”
“Call me when you get here, and I’ll come find you, okay?” he offers as a pretty woman in scrubs walks by, saying something to him that I miss. “You want me to see what I can find out in the meantime?”
“No. I appreciate it, but I’ve got it. Thanks, Finn. Go finish your bagel. And hey, maybe grab one for me. I haven’t eaten in a while,” I add as my stomach rumbles.
“You’ve got to take better care of yourself, Ashton.”
The glare I level at my best friend could stop a lesser man in their tracks, but it has the exact opposite effect on Finn.
“Fine. I won’t give you shit today if you promise to let me feed you before you hop back on a plane to Chicago.” Finn takes a bite of his bagel and smiles, licking cream cheese from his lips. “Doctor’s orders—”
“Fine. I’ll see you soon.” I end the call and rest my head back against the seat as I work up the nerve to call my father.
I can’t be in Kroydon Hills and not tell him I’m here, can I?
It’s tempting . . .
Maybe not a call. Maybe a text.
Flipping my phone over a few times in my hand, I debate for a few minutes before deciding screw it and sliding open my last text to Dad, wishing him a happy New Year.
Ashton
Hi, Dad. Just wanted to let you know I’m in Kroydon Hills. Mom got into a little bit of trouble, and I flew in to help her.
Dad
Again?
The answer every little girl dreams of.
Not that I didn’t basically have this same conversation a little over a year ago.
Ashton
Guess so. I don’t have all the details yet.
Dad
Let me know if it’s something I need to notify the PR team about.
Or if you need anything.
Cue all the warm and fuzzies . . . or not.
I thumbs-up his text and slide my phone into my pocket.
As the line coach for the Philadelphia Kings, Dad is high-profile. Luckily for Mom and me, we’re not. Not anymore. It’s not that he’s a bad dad . . . Okay well, actually, he is. He’s not cruel. Just uninvolved. The team is his baby. Not me. Not anymore.
We’re at the point where neither of us puts in much effort anymore.
It’s easier that way.
Fuck this day.
I flip my phone face down and close my eyes, praying it can’t get worse.
Ishould have known better than to tempt fate because she’s a fickle bitch who said, “Hold my beer and watch how easily I can make this day worse.”
First, the wheel of my carry-on broke when I dragged it through the slushy snow outside the hospital because why wouldn’t it?
Seriously. And now, as I drag it through this place I despise, I think about the first time I was here and want to scream.
Oh, and that’s before I walk to my mother’s hospital room to find the officer sitting outside the door is none other than the boy I had a crush on in middle school.
Billy Coogan was our neighbor when we moved from Maryland to Kroydon Hills.
He was my first crush, my first kiss, thanks to an unfortunate game of spin the bottle, and my first heartbreak at twelve years old when he told me my chest was so flat I looked like a boy.
And now he’s guarding my mother, the felon.
Fuck fate.
Billy’s eyes track my every move as I stop in front of him, a smile stretching across his face. “Ashton Carmichael?” he asks excitedly, and I want to crawl into a hole. Side note, Billy didn’t age well. At least there’s that.
“Damn. You look good,” he whistles, and my irritation grows. Why do people think they have a right to comment on how you look? Would they really say wow, you look terrible if that’s what they thought? But then again, who knows? Maybe Billy would. “What are you doing here?”
“Hi, Billy.” I quickly glance past him at the closed door and wince.
Three twenty-one. That’s the one. He’s really going to make me say it.
There’s no way he doesn’t know who’s inside.
He used to swim in our pool when we were kids.
“I’m here to see my mom,” I finally manage to say, disgusted and humiliated.
But hey, what’s a little humiliation between old friends?
He looks from me to the door before recognition finally flares to life in his bored brown eyes. “Damn, Ashton. Sorry, but I can’t let you in there.”
And yet again, this day can get worse. “Billy, her attorney called me yesterday and told me to come here. I’ve spent a day in an airport and a night in . . . whatever. It was a bad night. I flew halfway across the country to see my mother. Please let me in.”
I’m not above begging if I have to, but I’m not even sure why I bother. What the hell am I going to do for her anyway? I’m not even sure she’ll want to see me. And now I wonder why I even bothered.
“Did the attorney leave you their information?” he asks, avoiding my eyes at all costs.
“Billy . . .” I drop both my bags to the floor and try to center myself before I scream or worse, cry. “Please—”