Chapter 34 Allie
ALLIE
He doesn’t look at me with the judgment I expected.
I’ve never told anyone about my childhood.
I’ve always been too ashamed. What kind of man leaves the mother of his child with nothing?
And my mom? I try to believe none of it was her fault, but how did she keep getting into these situations?
I’d be lying if I said I don’t resent her a little, which makes me feel even worse.
What kind of daughter victim-blames her own mother?
He asked me about finding my father. Have I thought about it? Only every day of my life since I was old enough to realize he was never coming back. I’m scared. What if he wants nothing to do with me? What if he won’t give me the answers I need? Or worse, what if I’m better off not knowing?
“The fire’s dying,” Ashton’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “I can get us some more wood.” He goes to stand, but I stop him with a hand on his arm.
“No, it’s okay.” I lean closer to him, breathing in the scent of spearmint, cedar, and salt from the air that kisses his skin. “I don’t want you to go.”
He nods, settling back down onto the blanket, and I don’t think anymore.
I act on instinct as I bring my lips to his, pressing gently.
His breathing is ragged, his chest rising and falling against my breasts as I pull back.
His light brown eyes widen, searching mine, and before I know it, he’s cupping both of my cheeks and slamming his lips against mine.
My head falls back on the blanket, and he twists his body to lean against me.
“Please,” I beg.
He releases me. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No,” I pull him back down. “Please don’t stop.”
“Allie.”
“Make me forget.” I gently guide his hand to my belly, nodding my head, pleading with my eyes.
I should feel embarrassed that I’m shamelessly asking for this.
He doesn’t owe me anything. I’ve been nothing but a bitch to him.
He has every right to laugh in my face and leave me here crying in the sand.
He doesn’t. He gently glides his hand up my inner thigh and under my dress, moving my underwear to the side, and he does what I ask. He makes me forget. He takes my pain away, if only for a few moments, but it’s enough.
Afterwards, we lay back, looking up at the stars, and it’s quiet.
So quiet that I can hear the moment his breathing shifts.
The second he drifts off to sleep. It takes a minute, but the shame creeps up my spine, slithering around my back and wrapping around my hips.
How could I tell him all that? How could I beg him?
Knowing there’s every chance he’ll wake up and realize the mistake he’s made, I move his arm from around my shoulder, pick up my purse, and walk away.
That night has been playing in my mind on repeat for the past several days.
What if I had never left? What if I had answered his calls?
Would we still be together or were we always meant to end up the way that bonfire had?
In ashes, once burning bright and hot, only to end up as dust?
I should have known from his name alone that we were headed for disaster.
But the thing about ashes? They can disguise themselves as something beautiful, peaceful even.
I once saw a photo of homes covered in ashfall from a nearby eruption.
To the untrained eye, it looked like blankets of snow, but really it was volcanic ash, toxic and destructive.
Is that what happened with us? Did I only see what I wanted to see? Did I not look closely enough?
A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts, and my mom hops up from the couch to answer it, not bothering to check the peephole first.
“Mom, you have to check who it is,” I sigh. At this point, there are multiple men we’re avoiding.
“It’s just Emory,” she waves me off.
“I brought two gallons.” Emory holds up a brown paper bag that I assume is filled with ice cream.
“Thanks, Em.” I take the bag from her, bring it into the kitchen, and grab three bowls from the cabinet.
“Oh, none for me,” my mom chirps. “I’m just going to take my tea and that book you lent me into the other room.” She bumps her hip against Emory’s and winks.
I blink several times as she practically skips off to the bedroom. “Do I even want to know what book you gave my mom?”
Emory shrugs. “She seemed like she could use a good book boyfriend.”
I narrow my eyes at her, but if anyone knows what my mom is going through, it’s Emory. She was in a similar situation before she got her second chance. Her new beginning. I have to think there’s still hope for my mother, but maybe it’s best she sticks to books for now.
She’s been staying with me for the past few days. Ever since I ran into Ashton’s house like a wild animal and told her we were leaving. We still haven’t heard anything about Mark, so for all we know, he could be looking for her. In the meantime, I feel more comfortable having her with me.
Needless to say, my impromptu trip to Nashville got put on hold.
If there was one thing Ashton was right about, it’s that now is not the time to go there.
With everything that happened with my mom, I had completely forgotten that I told Nate he could try to track down my dad.
I didn’t think it would happen so quickly, or at all.
I was waiting for Nate to come back saying I was chasing a ghost.
I lift the first gallon out of the bag, and blood rushes to my ears. Mint chocolate chip. Memories of that morning with him flood my brain, but I shake them away, placing that one in the freezer.
“Shit,” Emory says as she watches me. “I’m so sorry. I forgot he asked about your favorite flavor.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s this stupid pregnancy brain. I swear I’m losing it.” She looks in the bag, pulling out the other carton. “I brought chocolate peanut butter too.”
I told Emory everything the day I left Ashton still standing in his driveway with his hands in his pockets and pain etched across his face.
She’s always known I grew up without a dad, but not the specifics.
I told her how he left, about my relationship with Ashton.
With my mom’s permission, I also told her about the abuse she endured, including the most recent attack.
Then I told her what Nate found out about my dad and everything that happened after.
We both cried and hugged a lot, which is saying something because I’m not a hugger.
I know it brought up difficult memories for her too, but I didn’t want to keep it a secret anymore.
I’m so tired of secrets. She was sad that I didn’t tell her sooner, especially now knowing why I told her brother about what her ex was doing to her. But she understood.
I bypass the bowls and go straight for the utensil drawer, pulling out two spoons and setting them down next to the ice cream.
“I knew I liked you for a reason,” Emory says. “What are we watching?”
After our talk, I told Em I needed a day to myself to clear my head.
That was Sunday, and true to my word, I faxed in a signed resignation letter the following day.
I texted Skylar to give her a heads-up and ask her to leave it on Ashton’s desk.
I told her that if she didn’t ask any questions, I would explain everything soon. She just wrote back one word: “Okay.”
Now it’s Wednesday, and I need to face the music. Skylar has done nothing but support me since I started this job, and she deserves to know why I left. In person. Not through a text or even on the phone. I can at least give her that.
Before I can answer Emory, there’s a knock at the door. “That must be Skylar,” I tell her. “I asked her over so I could explain everything.” Emory nods her head as she slowly lowers herself onto the couch, grabbing a blanket and shimmying under it.
When I open the door, Skylar looks like she did the day I first met her. Right after Theo got sick. If he got sick. Her hair is frazzled, she’s wearing a stained T-shirt, and it looks like she hasn’t slept in days. Guilt courses through my belly. This is because of me.
“This isn’t because of you,” Skylar states, reading my mind. I wave her in, and she greets Emory, plopping onto the couch next to her. “I mean, it’s partially because of you.”
“Sky, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She brings her knees up, twisting around to get comfortable. “It’s not your fault. Ash told me everything.”
Everything?
“Oh,” I say, walking into the kitchen to grab the ice cream. “What exactly did he say?”
I place the tub on the coffee table, along with three spoons, and kneel beside it for easier access.
“Nothing specific. Just that he was a dick and totally fucked it up between you two.”
Well, that’s a pretty good CliffsNotes version. I dig my spoon into the creamy frozen treat and bring it to my lips.
“Then he told me he was resigning.”
“What?” I snap, swallowing the entire contents of my mouth in one gulp. My throat throbs as the cold liquid gets stuck in it.
“He left the paper,” Skylar says. Emory’s spoon is frozen in mid-air, and I drop mine on the table.
Why would he leave? He knew I was quitting. He didn’t have to face me ever again. It makes no sense.
“Did he say why?” I ask her, but she shakes her head.
“So, I had to step in while trying to find a new editor. Theo still can’t do it. It’s a mess,” she waves her own spoon around as she digs into the ice cream, taking mouthfuls two at a time.
“Hey, I know this is going to sound weird, but did Theo really have a stroke?”
Skylar takes another bite of ice cream before setting her spoon down. She tilts her head to the side. “Um, yeah. Of course he did. I saw him at the hospital. Why—”
“No reason,” I jump in. “It was something silly, but never mind.”
She doesn’t seem convinced, but lets it go anyway.
“I’m so sorry you have to deal with all this,” I tell her.
“Thanks,” she sighs. “Look, I don’t want you to feel pressure. I totally understand either way, but I was thinking since Ashton doesn’t work at The Lantern anymore, you might consider coming back.”
There are a hundred reasons why I should say yes. Mainly because I need the money now more than ever, but there’s a nagging feeling in my gut telling me it’s the wrong move. A lot has happened in the last seventy-two hours, and I need some time to figure out what I really want.
“I wish I could say yes, Sky, I really do, but I can’t come back. Not right now. But if there’s anything I can do to help as an outsider, please let me know. I’m here for you.” I put my hand on her shoulder.
“Same,” Emory mumbles through a bite of ice cream.
“Thanks. It is nice just being able to chill with you girls. Even though I should be working well into the wee hours of the morning.”
“You could do that,” I say. “Or we could watch trashy television and eat our weight in ice cream.”
“I vote for option B,” Emory says.
“Alright, since you’re twisting my arm.” Skylar snuggles deeper into the couch. “And Allie?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m no stranger to heartbreak.”
She gives me a sad smile, her eyes moving back and forth as if they’re cataloging all the events in her own life that led her to this specific point in time. It’s at the tip of my tongue to tell her that my heart isn’t broken, but what’s the point of lying?
“Does it get better?” I hate the hopeful lilt in my voice.
“I don’t think I’m the right person to answer that,” she says apologetically, playing with the tassels on the edge of the blanket. “But I want you to know that I fully intend on kicking Ashton’s ass. He may be one of my oldest friends, but he doesn’t get a free pass to be a dick.”
“Thanks, Skylar.” If I have to endure this, I’m glad I have these two badass women to help me through it.
I turn on the TV and go to grab another blanket from the closet when I hear my phone vibrating on the kitchen counter.
I just missed the call. It’s from an unknown number.
My first thought is that Ashton got a new number.
He’s been calling and texting me since the day I walked away from him, but I haven’t answered.
I have nothing to say to him. He broke my heart, plain and simple.
Even after the adrenaline and the rage subsided, I was left with the same conclusion.
It doesn’t matter why he went behind my back, located my father, and then hid it from me.
There’s no explanation that would allow me to ever fully trust him again. So there’s no point in hearing him out.
I look down at my phone, noting that there’s a voicemail. I click play, bringing the phone to my ear. If I hear his voice, I’m deleting it right away. It’s not his voice, though. It’s similar but deeper, older-sounding.
“Hello, Allie. This is Matthew Tyler, Ashton’s father.
He asked me to call you to give you an update on a person you were trying to locate.
A Mark Shepherd. Anyway, my PI was able to locate him, but as it turns out, he’s in prison.
He was arrested late Sunday night for attempting to leave the country, which violated his parole.
As far as I know, he is not being released on bail.
That’s all the information I was given. If you have any questions, feel free to give me a call at this number. Take care.”
My phone nearly slips from my hand due to the sweat pouring out of my palm.
Walking to the kitchen, I place it down on the island, my whole body sagging with relief.
Mark is in jail. He’s no longer a threat to my mother.
For now, at least. Who knows how long he will be in prison?
He was obviously into some shady shit if he was on parole to begin with and trying to leave the country?
He was clearly trying to escape getting caught for something else or running from someone.
Either way, I’ll take the win for now. My mom can go back to her life, and I can start to figure out mine.
So why, as I sit at the kitchen counter staring at the ‘unknown’ number on my phone, am I disappointed that Ashton had his father call me instead of telling me himself? It feels like giving up. And that hurts more than anything else he’s done to me.