Chapter 5
Soft chenille rubs under my fingertips as I hang my favorite cardigan up in the guest room closet of Alana’s house.
There’s something strange about staying in the room Alana and Warren slept in as a newly married couple, even if they’ve been long gone from this house and the bedding has definitely been cleaned. It would almost be like staying in my parent’s room if I’d had the traditional type of family, so I chose the perfectly nice guest room down the hall.
After Warren gave me the keys, I didn’t hesitate to grab my duffel and head out from Hope Pizza, back to my car packed high with every worldly belonging I own. I suppose I now own everything in my mother’s house, but that’s a headache to sort through on another day. Today, I want to get settled and feel like I have some semblance of balance and normalcy. Thus, why I’m sitting in a closet hanging my meager belongings long after the sun has gone down over the Delaware River.
Stocking the house with groceries, following up on some job-related emails, and lugging the suitcases and bins from my trunk into the house were first on the agenda. After getting all of that situated, I unpacked my clothes so it didn’t feel quite like I was a nomad living out of bags.
Next on the list? Probably bed. But if sleep is unachievable, considering it’s already midnight, and I know the minute I set my head on the pillow, my thoughts will start attacking me, then I have some emergency gummy worms downstairs calling my name.
Thinking about my mother’s will and all the things I’ll have to figuratively put to bed before I leave Hope Crest again is the thing I’m trying to avoid most. I’ve been here about twenty-four hours at this point, and I need a full forty-eight hours sleep and a good bath before I can even tackle that. Considering I’ve been nonstop studying and working for four years straight, maybe it’s nice that I’ll get a little reprieve where I don’t have to push so hard.
With all my hanging clothes in the closet, I decide to call it a night. Except, just as I go to turn the closet light off, I hear the lock of the front door jingle downstairs.
The creak of the door has the hair on my arms standing up, and the thud of a footstep in the hardwood foyer throttles my heart right into my throat.
Holy shit, Alana’s place is getting robbed.
If Alana and Warren were coming over, they would have called. Any of the Ashtons would. Considering it’s well past a normal hour to go to sleep, none of them would just drop by unexpected. Which means …
Another thud of footsteps and I nearly jump, slapping a hand over my mouth to keep from panting with fear so that the killer, robber, whoever the hell is here doesn’t know I’m also in the house. The only things I’m sure of is that someone is here, they weren’t invited, and they probably think this house is empty, seeing as it has been for so long.
Maybe I should stay hidden up here. Maybe they’ll just take what they came for and go away. Except, every horror film or true crime story I’ve ever seen or read about indicates that not staying put is the better option of the two. Movement means you’re still living, and as long as you’re sedentary, there is a bigger chance something or someone is going to catch you.
So, what’s my plan? My eyes flick around the guest bedroom, the door wide open to the hall. Unfortunately, jumping out the window in here means I’ll probably break a leg or two, seeing as there isn’t shrubbery underneath it. The only way out is down, out the front door, if I can make a break for it.
The most dangerous thing in sight is my curling iron. It’s the only weapon-shaped object on the second floor with me and would be more lethal if it was burning hot, but alas, I haven’t even plugged it in today. Nevertheless, as I hear more creaks of footsteps below me, I grab it and wrap the cord around my arm.
My heart is beating wildly, sweat dripping in between my boobs, my whole body vibrating with fear as I walk gingerly down the upstairs hallway.
Creeping down the stairs, I hold the curling iron in my hand like a lifesaver, as if it will do any damage if I go up against a burglar. Cautiously, I tread, careful not to make a sound. The front door is in sight, my freedom and a call to the police so close I can taste it. I’m not here to fight anyone; I just want to get out, and then I can dash to report a crime.
“Hello?”
A voice says this at the exact same time I jump around the corner, brandishing my curling iron and letting loose a blood-curdling scream.
I’m an instant away from striking the owner of the voice, my whole body poised for attack, my mind riddled with hysteria that I’m actually in this position when I realize who is standing in front of me.
“August!” Evan Ashton looks bewildered at my battle stance or maybe that I’m here in the first place.
“Evan!” I’m just as surprised; shock replacing the fear in my system and making me feel weak with whiplash.
“Were you planning to clobber me with a … hair tool?” Confusion flits over his face.
Lowering the curling iron that I realize I’m still wielding over my head, I explain. “I thought you were a burglar. I mean, it is midnight and I’m in a strange house that I was told was going to be mine and mine alone. I don’t know, it was the closest thing that resembled a weapon I could grab fastest.”
Evan looks around the cozy first floor of Alana’s old house and rubs his jaw. I realize he probably just got out of the kitchen after dinner shift and cleanup.
“Wait, did you say you thought you’d have this place to yourself?”
I nod. “Warren offered it to me while I’m in town. They don’t have renters right now, and I can’t stay …” I don’t feel like explaining my mommy issues to Evan. “Anyway, yeah, I’m living here until I leave town.”
He cocks his head to the side, light brown curls moving with the incline. “Um … Alana told me I could stay here until I find my own place.”
“What?” My stomach drops for more reasons than one.
First, that immediately means I’ll have to move out of here and possibly go back to my mother’s place. Evan is family, which trumps whatever relationship I have with his sister and brother-in-law. Two, it’s absolutely mortifying that I unpacked all my things and he just shows up here as if I’m the idiot who got it wrong. Not to mention, I’m now standing in a foyer with one very attractive Evan Ashton after he … well, I think he flirted with me at the restaurant, but I can’t be sure. It’s not as if I spent hours obsessing over what he said to me.
But deep down, this demonstrates how much people don’t think about me, even the ones I consider the closest to me. It’s not uncommon for me to get overlooked, or a situation doesn’t pan out in my favor. Oftentimes, people forget I even exist. So it’s just fucking typical that Warren double-booked the place I’m supposed to be staying in, forcing me out.
“Alana is the one who gave Warren the key to give to me,” I point out, as if this makes no sense.
“What the hell? She told me this afternoon that I could use the house because it was empty.” Evan shakes his head. “That baby brain is really throwing her off.”
And landing me in the depths of my own personal hell. Evan Ashton standing in front of me while I wear ratty leggings and an oversized T-shirt that has a hole in one armpit? Yeah, I might die of embarrassment.
As if just realizing we’re both standing in a house with no one else, all alone by ourselves, Evan’s eyes track me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I do the same to him, taking in the way his dark jeans mold to his quads. After we’re silent for a beat, he clears his throat, and I start to panic.
“Um, I can go, then. She probably meant to give this place to you, anyway. It’ll take me a day or so to move my stuff back out, so?—”
Evan holds up a palm, calluses, scars, and healing scabs marking the flesh there. “No, no. You don’t have to do that. You’re already unpacked, clearly comfortable …”
He points to my attire, and I curse myself for not hanging out in more sexy loungewear. Then again, I have no need for that. But hey, a girl can fantasize, and that would have come in handy right about now.
“I insist. It’s your family’s place, I have another place I could stay.” My voice cracks as I add the last part.
Even unconsciously, my body is physically fighting against going back to my childhood home.
Blue eyes trace over my face, and I shift under his scrutiny. Evan seems to process a hundred things at once, and there is a tension brewing between us that I don’t want to label. I’m here for one reason only, and addressing something as complicated as my unrequited crush on Evan Ashton is the stupidest thing I could do.
“Let’s just … it’s so late, and we’re both exhausted. I’m about to crash on this floor if it means I can sleep. Can we just sleep it off and figure this out in the morning?” Evan rubs the back of his neck like he might doze off while standing in front of me.
“Uh, yeah … I guess that’s the smart thing.” Even though I’m bound to get no sleep when I know he’s in the bed across the hall from me.
Can’t say he’s as concerned about me being in the same position though, because he looks utterly bored by this whole interaction.
“Great. So …” He points upstairs like I’m delaying us or something.
I hop to it, clambering for the stairs as I make my way up without a look back. “Right. I took the guest room, so the master is all yours. There are sheets on that bed so?—”
“Cool.” He cuts me off as we get to the top, walking in the direction of his room for the night. “I’ll see you in the morning. Thanks, August.”
And without another word, he walks into Alana’s old room and closes the door with a snick of the handle. I’m baffled, flabbergasted, at the events of the past ten minutes. One moment, I was putting away my clothes and looking forward to a peaceful night alone. The next, I was being forced into a sleepover, albeit separately, with my teenage crush, who apparently, didn’t find this situation weird or complicated whatsoever.
If I was feeling confused before about being back in Hope Crest, seeing Evan, and having to handle a lot of responsibilities I don’t want, this is a whole new wrench thrown into my bewilderment.
As predicted, I can barely shut my eyes the rest of the night, knowing that the man who played a starring role in my early sexual fantasies is sleeping just down the hall.