3. Ashley
Chapter three
Ashley
Shock slammed through Ashley, her brain struggling to make sense of what she was seeing. Her grandfather stood at the top of the stairs as if nothing had happened, smiling that ridiculous grin and practically glowing with pride.
She’d cried for him. Mourned him. Been wracked with guilt for not calling or visiting once since Grandma’s funeral, when he unloaded on each and every one of them.
He’d mocked her career choice and told her it was shameful and a waste of her potential. She hated him for it, and not just because of the cruelty in his tone when he hurled those words at her, but because he made her question her ability, her worth, and whether she’d ever been good enough.
As memories paraded through her mind like spirits summoned by Dickens himself, she was hit with a second ghost.
Carter Reeves.
He appeared at her grandfather’s side, the pair resembling sentinels standing watch over the chaos they had created.
Time had changed him, but not enough. He was older, broader in the shoulders; his once smooth jaw was now covered in the same dirty blonde as his head.
Gone was the lanky twelve-year-old who helped her hang curtains.
The sixteen-year-old boy who’d sneaked her out to watch the first snowfall and given her a memorable first kiss.
The nineteen-year-old who’d stolen her away whenever the house became too loud.
The twenty-one-year-old who’d taken her…
She shook the memory away as she stared at the man in the tailored-to-perfection suit. His hands clasped behind his back, his eyes the same piercing blue that could cut through her soul if she let them.
Ashley’s breath caught in her throat.
Gabe’s grip on her shoulder tightened.
“Surprise!” Grandpa bellowed, spreading his arms wide as if he were welcoming guests to a party and not crashing his own funeral.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” Aunt Marilyn snapped.
Grandpa beamed at the room, looking far too pleased with himself. “Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.”
Gabe’s hand fell from her shoulder, and he tossed his arms in the air.
“Oh what the fuck?” Gabe’s voice echoed through the vestibule, and chaos erupted.
A loud scream pierced through the air, and Ashley’s head whipped toward Mom, who was clutching her pearls.
All color fled Uncle Rick’s face. Dad stood wide-eyed and frozen.
Aunt Marilyn snatched a bottle of whiskey off a cart, popped the top, and drank directly from the bottle.
But Ashley couldn’t look away from the man at her grandfather’s side.
Memories crashed into her, stolen glances across the estate grounds, the first tentative kiss behind the stables, whispered promises in the dark.
And then the crushing weight of his rejection, the cold finality in his voice when he told her he wouldn’t follow her to New York, and he didn’t love her—that he’d never loved her.
A lie. It had to be. Or the man missed his calling as an actor. Still, she left, and in all that time, he never reached out, not once. She’d moved on, but no one had ever made her feel the way he had.
And now here he was at Winterridge, the start and end of it all, standing beside her very much alive grandfather as if he belonged there, as if those years hadn’t happened at all.
All those emotions she fought to bury came crashing into her. She had a million questions, but when his eyes met hers from the top of the stairs, every single thought fled her mind.
A slight smile lifted his lip, and her heart slammed against her chest. What was he doing here?
Grandpa clapped Carter on the shoulder as if they were best mates. “I guess I owe you all an explanation.”
Ashley tried to focus on her grandfather, but her eyes kept drifting to Carter.
“Camille?” Grandpa’s voice boomed through the vestibule, freezing everyone in place. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Mom straightened, meeting her ex-father-in-law's deathly glare. “I’m family, and I thought…” She tugged at the end of her Hermes scarf. “That maybe I’d be included.”
“Included…?” Grandpa waved his hand for her to continue, but she snapped her overfilled lips shut. “Included in the will?
“I just thought—”
“The only thing you’ll ever get is a reserved seat beside me in hell.”
Mom gasped.
“You cheated on my son, and you destroyed this family.”
Mom squared her shoulders and smoothed the front of her coat, but Ashley caught the brief flash of hurt in her eyes before it disappeared with a practiced smile. “I think you did that all on your own, but if you need a scapegoat, I’m happy to play the role.”
A fiery red spread through Grandpa’s face, his jaw clenched so tightly the veins in his neck bulged. His hand shot toward the door. “Get out of my house, Camille, before I have you forcibly removed. Again.”
Mom lifted her chin and let out a sharp, brittle laugh. “Don’t worry, Bill. I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.” Mom’s eyes drifted to Dad, who found the floor particularly interesting. With a toss of her hair, she swept past everyone, her perfume lingering long after the door slammed.
Grandpa exhaled a shaky breath. “Good riddance.”
“Should I go check on her?” Gabe asked.
Ashley sighed. “Not if you don’t want to listen to her unload on you for the next twenty minutes.”
Gabe groaned. “You’re right. I’ll text her later when she’s had time to calm down.”
“I’m sure she’ll be texting you soon.”
Gabe was always the first person Mom vented to. After the affair became public, Ashley worried about him more than anyone. He’d been caught between two parents who expected his loyalty while trying to hold the family together.
“Now that the trash has taken itself out,” Grandpa said, and Gabe went to defend Mom, but even he knew there was no point, so he closed his mouth.
“What is this?” Uncle Rick demanded, his finger pointing menacingly at the ground.
“If you’d let me speak, I will explain.”
“This ought to be good,” Aunt Marilyn said before taking another sip from the whiskey bottle. Cole sighed and snatched it out of her grasp. He corked it closed and slammed it on the bar cart.
“Years ago, a dark cloud formed over Winterridge,” Grandpa began, his words bringing a slew of unwanted memories to the surface.
A knot twisted Ashley’s stomach. She swallowed as a flash of the funeral, black coats, frozen breaths, the silent fury that had emanated from the walls, slammed into her.
“I thought staying away from each other, giving us all space, that we might heal, allow tempers to cool.” His voice trembled slightly, but he continued.
“Instead… it tore us all further apart.” He swept his cane in the air, and it felt as if it pointed at each of them.
“Your mother… your grandmother would be rolling in her grave if she knew how we’ve carried on since she left. ”
A hush fell over the room; even Aunt Marilyn kept her mouth shut. It was a truth that none of them could deny. Grandma Lily would be heartbroken at the disaster that was the Wetherbys.
“I decided the only way to fix this family was to force you all back to Winterridge. Weddings, births, birthdays… you’d find an excuse, skip them without a thought. But death?” His eyes glinted. “I knew that would get your asses in that door.”
“You pretended to die,” Taylor muttered, the shock evident in her tone. “That was cruel.”
“I did what I had to do, and I’d do it again,” Grandpa stated with unwavering affirmation. “Look around. You’re all here, aren’t you?”
“You could have just sent a group text,” Nate muttered.
“And missed the looks on your faces when I rose from the dead?” He held his hands up in dramatic fashion.
Aunt Marilyn let out a loud laugh. “You always were a son of a bitch.”
“That means a lot coming from you, dear daughter,” Grandpa said. “Now listen. From this day forward, there are new rules at Winterridge.”
“Fuck this,” Cole said and headed for the door. Nate followed suit.
“You miss one Christmas,” Grandpa continued as Cole and Nate waited for Mr. Hawthorne to retrieve their coats. “Just one. And you are out of the will. Completely.”
Mr. Hawthorne returned with their coats, and Cole lifted a hand to stop him before rejoining the family. Ashley smirked. None of them knew how much they’d get in the will, but it was enough to keep them all firmly in place.
Uncle Rick stepped toward Grandpa, his face turning as red as the day Nate filled the toilet with shaving cream so his G.I. Joes could play in the snow. “You’re blackmailing us into Christmas?”
“Call it whatever the hell you want. I’ll call it saving this godforsaken family. And Lily would have done the same.”
Silence fell through the vestibule, and Ashley returned her gaze to Carter. His eyes were still on her, glaring as if he had a million things he wanted to say but refused to utter a single one. The weight of the Christmases that had come and gone hit her square in the chest.
Once upon a time, he would have found a way to rescue her from the drama. He’d distract her family by dropping something on the hardwood, or stumbling down the stairs, giving her a chance to slip away.
“Well,” Aunt Marilyn said, snatching the bottle of whiskey from the bar cart. “Looks like we’re stuck here for the holidays. Merry fucking Christmas.” She raised the bottle and poured a generous splash into a crystal tumbler before taking a sip.
Cole straightened from where he’d been leaning against the wall. “I have work.”
Marilyn laughed. “You haven’t worked a day in your life.”
His brows shot up. “I work!”
“Posting pictures and videos on the internet is not work.”
“I influence,” Cole shot back, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s a career.”
Marilyn swirled the whiskey in her glass. “Influence what? Overindulgence with money you didn’t work for?”
“It’s called branding.”
She took another sip. “It’s called unemployment.”
“Why don’t you have another drink, Mom?”
Ashley stared wide-mouthed at the exchange. Cole was the golden boy, the one who could do no wrong in Marilyn’s eyes. For her to criticize him so openly, something had shifted. But what?
“Enough!” Grandpa barked from the top of the stairs.
He glanced at Carter and shook his head before looking down at everyone.
“The rules are non-negotiable. Lily wanted Christmas at Winterridge to continue, and I failed her. Not anymore. From now on, I’m going to give her that wish even if I have to drag you all here every December until I’m dead! ”
“Until you’re really dead, right? Not fake dead?” Nate asked with a sharp edge to his tone.
Ashley flinched. The question echoed around them, dredging up every text she sent, every sorry for your loss response she received, every tear she’d spent mourning a man who had been alive all along. Anger burned hot beneath her ribs, tangled with relief she couldn’t quite bring herself to feel.
“Yes, until I’m really dead. For two weeks every December, I want you here. If you have work, you bring it with you, but you must be in the house, or my lawyers will be contacted and my will be updated.” He clapped his hands together. “Now, let the festivities begin!”
Festivities? The man faked his death, trapped them at Winterridge for Christmas, and somehow he expected everyone to smile through it like one big happy family.
An immovable weight settled in her chest, stealing her breath.
This was all too much. She didn’t need Carter to rescue her.
She slipped away on her own, dipping into one of the hallways and hurrying as far away from her family as possible.
Her heels clicked against the marble floors, echoing off towering wood-paneled walls. She rounded a corner and slammed into a solid chest.
Strong hands caught her before she bounced on her ass. The scent of cedar and crisp winter nights painfully twisted her stomach as she glanced up into familiar blue eyes.
“Careful, Ash,” he said, his voice deeper, huskier than it had been the last she’d heard it.
“Of course, you’re here.” She hated the quaver in her voice, the unsteady breath she inhaled.
“I never left.”
Ash swallowed, ignoring the pull that had always been so strong between them. “Well, maybe you should have.” She ripped herself away from him, stepping back and ignoring her thundering pulse. But Carter’s voice followed her through the corridor.
“Eight years, Ash, and you’re still running.”