Chapter 7 Ash
ASH
MAY PRESENT DAY
Shane texted when the shop closed to say he was running down to the bar to talk to Nik, then he’ll bring my car back.
That was two hours ago.
Not like it matters. I’m stuck here until I get everything sorted, and seeing as how I don’t want anyone to know, I can’t very well get out and about anyway.
Luckily, Shane stocked the kitchen for me before I arrived. I pull a bag of popcorn out of the microwave and pour myself a glass of red wine before flopping onto the couch. The soft blue cushions suck me in. As I flip on the TV, my phone rings with a FaceTime call.
“Hello, sweetheart,” I sing.
Maggie bounces on the screen, her blonde curls in a wild mess atop of her head.
“Hi, it’s ‘bout bedtime, so I only have a few minutes,” she says like she’s heard Jess tell her that a few times.
“Well then, we better make it snappy.” I wink. “How was school today?”
“Great! We got a new student, and guess what?”
“What?” I ask, my eyes squinting from the massive smile on my face.
“We have the same backpack! Isn’t that crazy?” She dives into a fit of giggles.
“So crazy!”
As her laughter fades, she asks, “Are you coming home tomorrow?”
“Not yet, but soon. I still have a lot of cleaning to do. Would you like to come help?” I tease.
“No way!” Her eyes bug out. “I hate cleaning!”
I knew that’d be her answer. I wish more than anything I could bring her with me, but I’m afraid. I’ve spent years looking over my shoulder, wondering if my dad will pop out of the bushes. Bringing her here is a risk I’m not willing to take.
“Did Aunt Jess make you pancakes this morning?”
“Yeah, but she knocked over the bowl, and it got the floor all gooey.”
“Oh no! Were they as good as my French toast?” I wiggle my brows.
She smiles big and furiously shakes her head.
“I’ll make some when I get home, and maybe we can show Aunt Jess how we do it, so she can make it while I’m gone.”
“Promise?”
“Pinky promise.” I hold my finger up to the phone, and she giggles again.
“Time for bed,” Jess says from somewhere out of sight.
“I love you, bug.”
“I love you, too, Mommy. Good night.”
After she hangs up, I’m settling back into the couch with my snack when the doorbell rings. I drop the bag of popcorn onto the coffee table and dart to the front door with my wine still in my hand.
“Shit, Shane, I still have your key, don’t I?”
I undo the deadbolt and fling open the door.
The air whooshes out of my lungs, and I freeze. Everything fades but the pair of blue eyes staring back at me. My heart thunders in my chest. Ghosts don’t often ring the doorbell, so the fact that one is standing on my porch has me feeling like I’m on another planet.
I don’t even register my glass of wine falling from my hand until the crimson liquid splashes my bare feet. Opening my mouth to say something, no words come out.
“That your car?” The corner of Gabe’s mouth lifts as he nods to my Honda sitting in front of the house and leans a shoulder on the doorframe.
My mouth opens and closes. Thoughts rapid fire through my brain, and my knees threaten to buckle.
“How did you know I was here?” I finally manage to ask, my chest rising and falling faster with each breath.
“Your keys.” Holding them up, he narrows his eyes at me and smirks. “Did you really think you could have your car in my shop, and I wouldn’t know?”
God, he’s a smug son of a bitch.
Damn it, he looks good. He’s always been attractive, but he’s devastating now.
His blond hair falls right above his shoulders, and he’s put a few pounds of muscle on his lean, six-foot- frame.
He’s wearing dirty light-wash jeans with a dark gray hoodie.
If I had to guess, I’d bet money he’s got a handgun tucked in the back of his waistband.
His hand runs across his short facial hair.
“I wasn’t thinking about you at all, actually.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I ask, “So, what do you want?”
I’m suddenly very aware of how little I’m wearing—a pair of tiny blue pajama shorts and a matching tank top that’s almost too small, leaving everything spilling out of the top. Heat creeps up my neck.
“Just wanted to see for myself.” His eyes rake over me, setting my skin on fire. He leans down, picking up the wine glass that—thank God—landed on the doormat and is still in one piece.
“See what?”
“If you were back.” He narrows his eyes at me as he stands.
“Well, you’ve seen. Now you can leave.” I reach for my keys he’s holding in his other hand.
He pulls them out of reach, and his face softens. “Why now?”
“What?”
“She died months ago. Why are you back now?”
“That’s none of your business,” I say with my head held high.
His words come out clipped this time when he says, “This town is my business. Why are you here?”
I’m not about to tell him, of all people that I couldn’t stand the idea of selling this place without seeing it one last time, or that my heart is in pieces and I was hoping maybe a little of Gran’s magic could help.
I’ll never let this man see me broken again.
He didn’t deserve it when he was my everything, and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve it now.
“I’m just ready to sell the place.”
He frowns. Not a sad frown, more like a I’m not buying it frown. “So, that’s it? You just leave for six years and then pop up out of the blue?”
“Yep.”
“Hmm.” He stares at me for a beat before pushing past into the house.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I spin around, following him.
“Coming inside.” He whips his head in my direction. “I remember you having better manners the last time I saw you.” He quirks a brow with a cocky smile, examining the place. “Not a damn thing has changed here, huh?”
“I have great manners when guests are welcome. You”—I point at him—“however, are not.” With an exhale, I collect myself before adding, “Look, I don’t know what game you’re trying to play, but I don’t have the time or energy for it, Gabe.”
“Gabe?” He rears back. “I can count on one hand how many times you’ve called me that.” Moseying through the kitchen he says over his shoulder, “And I’m not playing any game. I just wanted to see you.”
His eyes sparkle, and his mouth spreads like the Cheshire cat.
That grin is dangerous. It’s nothing but false promises. The last time I was in this town I left with my heart broken and my sanity hanging by a thread all because of this asshole. But I’m not that girl anymore, and I’m not taking his shit.
I play innocent, batting my lashes. “Yeah, isn’t that what you go by?”
His eyes never leave mine as he sits at the kitchen island. “Not to you.”
He tilts his head back slightly and shoots me a look that probably works on every woman in the world—except me.
I cock my head. “Well, you don’t really know me anymore.”
“I can see that.” He grabs the bottle of wine, filling the glass before bringing it to his lips.
Crimson liquid sloshes onto the counter as I snatch it away. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Still grinning, he throws his hands up. “Catching up with an old friend. What’s it look like I’m doing?”
I slam a hand down. “This isn’t funny, and I’m not your friend.”
“You used to be.”
For a moment my breath hitches because somewhere deep in my subconscious I wish that were true. I wish we could take it all back and things could be different.
But they aren’t.
“You know, I’ve had a long time to think about that, and I don’t think I was.”
I’d like to explode, but I’m trying not to be so emotional as my mother likes to point out. So instead, I calmly say, “Please, just tell me what I owe you and leave.” Throwing a hand in the air, I add, “Forget I was even here.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He stands from the stool, dropping the keys to the counter. “It’s on me.”
As he swaggers toward the door, I try to keep my eyes on anything but him. Shouldn’t there be a rule against looking like that after you break someone’s heart? Shouldn’t you inevitably get uglier just on principle?
He grips the doorknob, turning over his shoulder. “I’m sorry about Gran.”
I nod as my already cracked heart throbs.
Then he leaves.
And I stand in the middle of the living room staring at the front door, feeling like someone’s sucked all the air from the room.