Chapter 31 Allie #2
I come to a stop, putting my car in park in front of the house. I thought about taking my mom to my cottage first, but I didn’t want to leave her alone, even there, and I needed to see Ashton in person.
“Where are we?” my mom asks.
“A friend’s,” I say vaguely. “He might be able to help us.” She nods and we get out of the car. I ring the doorbell and he answers right away, like he was standing close to the door or something.
“Hey.” His eyes light up when he sees me, but his face falls when he looks over at the bruised woman beside me.
“Ashton, this is my mom, Jennifer. Mom, this is my friend, Ashton. He works at the paper with me.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Jennifer.” Ashton schools his features, extending his hand.
“You too,” she says, taking it while looking down at the ground. I know she must be mortified by how she looks, and I wouldn’t have brought her here if there were any other way, but Nate’s out of town on business and I can’t bother Emory when she’s about to pop.
“Can we come in?” I ask.
“Of course.” Ashton opens the door wider and stands to the side to let us through. “Can I get you two anything?”
“No, thank you,” I answer on behalf of both of us. Then something occurs to me that I didn’t even think of until now. “Are your sister and niece still here?”
“No, I met them at the diner. I got home hours ago. I tried calling you.”
I haven’t even looked at my phone since I ended that call with my mom.
“I must have missed it,” I say, and he nods. I know he must be dying to know what’s going on.
“My mother’s boyfriend attacked her,” I say outright. The words feel heavy on my tongue, but I don’t glance in her direction. I know this is hurting her, but sometimes you have to hurt before you can heal. I can’t help my mother if I don’t tell him what happened.
Ashton’s eyes wander to my mother, and sympathy flashes in them. He moves closer to me and swallows before speaking. “Were you there when it happened?”
“No. She called me after he left.”
He sighs, relaxing a little. “Have you called the police?”
My mom looks up at his question. “No,” she answers. “Last time I did that, I went to jail.”
His eyes flick to mine, and I shake my head. We don’t need to get into all that right now. I just need help getting this motherfucker what he deserves.
“Look, I know this is a big ask, but is there anyone you know who could help track him down? He should be arrested, but she has a record and—”
“Of course. Let me make a phone call. You two make yourselves at home.”
Before he leaves, he turns back. “What is his name?”
“Mark Shepherd,” my mother answers.
As soon as Ashton disappears around the corner, I turn to my mom, who is smiling for the first time tonight. It’s a small one, but it’s there. “Friend, huh?”
“Mom!” I hiss.
“What? He’s really cute.”
“Jesus, Mother. You were just attacked.”
“I know, and if I don’t distract myself, I’ll go crazy.”
I sigh and take her hand. “Come on. I’ll make you some tea.”
It doesn’t take long for Ashton to come back from his phone call. I’m pouring hot water into a mug when I hear his footsteps.
“My dad is having his people look into it,” he says. “He’s going to call me back the second he knows anything.”
“Thank you.” I stand on my toes to kiss his cheek. I don’t really care that my mom is sitting right there. I know Ashton has a strained relationship with his father, and yet he just called to ask him for a favor for me without even batting an eye. That deserves a public kiss.
“I can’t thank you enough,” my mom says, setting down the mug I gave her.
“Don’t thank me yet. I don’t know what we’ll be able to find, and I still think you should file a police report. Either way, I have more than enough room for you to stay here while we wait to hear back.”
“Thanks for the offer.” I look between my mom and Ashton. His eyes haven’t left me since he walked back into the room. “But we’re going to head back to my house.”
“Allie, please.” Warmth floods my insides as I feel his hand grasp mine, lacing our fingers together. “I’ll feel safer if you both stay here. At least for tonight.” His eyes are pleading, and for the first time, I don’t have the heart to argue with him.
I look at my mom, and she nods her agreement.
“Okay. Just for tonight.”
Ashton helps get my mother settled in the guest room, while I go to the car to grab the bag I packed for her when we left her house.
I assumed she would be staying with me while we figure this out, so I packed a couple of changes of clothes, a toothbrush, pajamas, and her phone charger.
Luckily, her phone didn’t completely break when Mark threw it on the floor.
The screen is cracked, but it’s still usable.
I don’t have anything for myself, but I’m sure I can just borrow something from Ashton.
When I go to his room to ask for a T-shirt, he’s already undressing. I let myself watch the muscles flex in his toned back as he takes his shirt off. Then I shamelessly ogle his ass, tight against his boxer briefs as he slides off his jeans.
“You gonna say something or just here for the show?” he asks, not even turning around. Like he just sensed my presence.
“Funny,” I deadpan. “Can I borrow a shirt to wear to sleep?”
He opens his dresser and tosses me one of his old college T-shirts.
“Thanks,” I say. “I’ll get out of your hair.”
“What?”
“I know it’s been a long day, and you probably want to get some rest. So, I’ll just go to my room.”
“Your room?” he repeats.
“Yeah,” I say. “I know you have a couple of guest rooms, but I’m fine staying with my mom.”
His eyes heat as he walks over to me, bringing his hands up to my cheeks. “Stay with me, Allie. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Just stay with me?”
The second time it’s a question and one I couldn’t say no to if I tried at this point. I nod my head. “Let me just say goodnight to my mom.”
When I get back, Ashton’s in bed with one leg propped up over the blanket. He’s typing something on his phone. I change into his shirt and climb in next to him. He plugs his phone in to charge and turns to me. “I’m so sorry.”
I shrug. “Vicious cycles, am I right? They’re a bitch.”
He moves a piece of hair from my face, rubbing his thumb against my cheek. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“That night you took care of me when I was drunk. You said something about having a fear of vomiting. Does that have to do with your mom? Did you have to take care of her a lot?”
“No,” I answer honestly. “She was never a drinker. It was something else.”
“Oh.” He doesn’t press anymore, but I decide to tell him anyway.
“It happened way before all the boyfriend drama, actually. When I was eight, there was this stomach virus going around school. I came down with it in the middle of class, and when I went to the nurse, she wanted to call my mom to come pick me up. But she had just started a new job, and I knew it paid well. I thought if she had to leave work, they would fire her. So I lied and told the nurse her number had changed. I didn’t have a plan after that, but then a ton of sick students came in, and I told her I would call my mom so she didn’t have to worry about it.
She was so preoccupied with the other kids that she agreed.
I pretended to call her and signed myself out.
It wasn’t a long walk from the school to my house, but I had to stop every few minutes to throw up.
” Ashton’s eyes widen as I continue my story.
“By the time I got home, I was just dry heaving,” I go on.
“I was all alone. I didn’t know what medicine to take or what I should do, so I just laid down on the bathroom floor and cried.
My mom found me asleep at the foot of the toilet when she got home.
She was horrified, but what was I supposed to do? I didn’t want her to lose her job.”
Ashton doesn’t say anything. He just strokes my hair, holding me like I held my mother earlier tonight. When I look up, his eyes are glassy.
“Don’t feel bad for me,” I say.
“I don’t,” he replies. “I feel bad for that little girl on the bathroom floor.”
My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. Why is that so much harder to hear?
“Can I ask you something?” I echo his earlier question.
“Anything.”
“That night you were drunk at Declan’s party. You said you were anxious. Is that? I mean—” God, I’m so bad at this. He takes pity on me as I fumble with my words.
“It started when I was in middle school,” he cuts in.
“At first, I thought it was because of how everything in my house always had to be so perfect. Knowing I was far from ever being the kid my parents expected me to be made me anxious. It would happen right before a big game or test. Then it started happening randomly. I knew it was more than typical nerves, but I was too scared to tell anyone.”
Now I’m the one sympathizing with a little kid, having to deal with something most adults don’t know how to navigate on their own.
“The frog?” I ask.
“That was one of many. I played it off to Skylar like it wasn’t a big deal. We still laugh about it. It’s a defense mechanism, I guess. Making jokes.”
“So you never got help?” My voice cracks at the last word.
“Not until later. I started seeing a counselor in college, who then referred me to a therapist. But before that, I found ways to cope. Silly little things like playing board games seemed to calm me down and ground me.”
“And the watch?”
He laughs softly. “You know about that?”
“You had it after Craig…” My voice trails off. “And you mentioned it in the pool house.” Guilt creeps up my spine. I made him anxious that night when I didn’t respond to him. “I’m sorry, by the way. That I made you worry.”
He shakes his head. “You didn’t know.” Reaching out, he brushes a strand of hair from my face. “Theo gave me the pocket watch on my graduation day. It had been handed down for generations in his family. Something about the smooth metal calms me. I still keep it in my pocket most days.”
I melt further into him, but we don’t speak again. He holds me, keeping our combined pain from spilling out, as the world goes hazy and I drift off to sleep.