Chapter Nine
Ash
After meddling my way through the shit show of a breaker panel, which involved two calls to Jake, I managed to get everything organized and relabeled so she wouldn’t have to do any guess work the next time a breaker tripped.
I also replaced a blown breaker and got everything ready to install the generator sitting in the back of my truck.
I still needed to run to the hardware store to grab a few things, but before I left, I needed to confirm the age of the home and when the electricity had been installed.
I also need to figure out where the broken breaker went.
When I discovered it, there was no label beside it.
If this home was considered historic, there was a good chance Astoria still possessed the original blueprints and the electrical plans.
“How old did you say this house was?” I called as I came into the living room, holding the old breaker in my hand. When I looked up, I stopped short, my heart damn close to jumping out of my chest.
Angel was curled up on the couch, nestled under a pile of white and cream blankets, asleep. With a blanket tucked under her chin, her dark lashes fanned out across her face, her cheeks still pink from crying, she looked like everything I needed her to be. At peace. Safe. Warm. Protected.
My eyes lingered on her tear tracks, and I mentally kicked myself, hoping to God they weren’t because of me. The last thing I wanted was to be the source of her pain. Even though every cell in my body was commanding me to, I hadn’t demanded the reason for her tears for two reasons.
One, as much as it pained me, it was none of my business.
Two, she’d tried her damn hardest to hide the fact that she was crying from me for over thirty minutes.
The overwhelming urge to scoop her into my arms and let her soak my shirt with her tears was nearly too much.
And something that would’ve taken me ten minutes ended up taking over an hour because I wanted her to have her privacy.
I could hear her soft sobs on the other side of the quiet house, and a handful of times, I had to stop working altogether, bend my head, and try not to lose my shit over it.
I was used to people crying around me. Hell, at this point, it was an occupational hazard.
But the sound of Angel’s sobs threatened to drag me back into a pit of hell I’d spent years climbing out of.
It put a spotlight on my nightmares, and I was dreading going back to my empty apartment tonight.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I let out a hushed curse, fishing for it. I took the call on her front porch, quietly shutting the screen door behind me.
“Doss,” I answered.
“Took you long enough!”
Her voice, loud and shaking with worry, hit me like a stray bullet.
“Abbie?”
“Of course it’s Abbie! Who else would it be?” she snapped, huffing.
I pulled the phone away from my face, checking the number. “This isn’t your number, Abs,” I told her.
Abbie Marks, formally known as Abbie Spears, was a good friend of mine and everyone else at Red Snake.
A few years ago, she had called me about her stalker, and even though we could’ve handled it ourselves, Abbie was Beau’s girl.
Beau worked at Hallow Ranch with Mags, Grayson’s long-time best friend.
Word about her being in danger spread like wildfire, thanks to me, and by the time I got to her place the next morning, she had been taken back to Hallow Ranch at the hands of her cowboy.
Abbie was an investigative journalist at the Denver Tribune and an amazing painter.
A few of her pieces were hung in our offices.
“Beau’s horse stepped on my phone,” she said.
I chuckled. “I see.”
“It’s not fucking funny, Ash!”
My feet carried me to the edge of the porch, where the sunlight streamed through the trees above, hitting my skin, and sea salt moved with the breeze. “It is,” I told her, smiling.
She grew quiet for a moment. “I called to cuss you out.”
“Oh?” I laughed. “I’ve been back for a bit. You missed the fucking cuss-out party.”
“You didn’t let me finish, asshole! I called to cuss you out, but I can hear a smile in your voice.”
My smile faded. “You can still do it, you know,”
“I don’t like yelling.”
I leaned against the porch railing. “You yell at Beau all the time.”
“Yeah, because he’s Beau. He’s an idiot, but he’s my idiot.”
I’d known Abbie long enough to guess when she was deflecting.
I’d also been expecting this phone call.
Grayson told me that the entire ranch had been upset over my disappearance, but Abbie had been distraught.
When she didn’t call, I took her silence as well-deserved anger.
I’d let everyone in my life down to finish something that had been tearing my life apart.
And even though I have no regrets about leaving, I do regret hurting my family, the people who were there for me during my darkest hours.
My silence and my absence were things I never expected to give them.
Yet, it happened. Things were done and said that I can never take back.
All I could do was show up when I could, be there for them when they wanted me to be, and heal.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice low and thick.
“For what?” she shot back. “For leaving without so much as a goodbye?”
“No. I’m not sorry for leaving, Abs. I’m sorry for hurting you and everyone else.”
I heard her sniffle. “You scared the shit out of us.”
I took a deep breath, eyes on the ocean. “I scared myself,” I murmured.
“Grayson told Mags everything.”
“Yeah, I know. He told me he did when he was chewing my ass.”
“Is she still there?” Abbie asked, her voice hopeful.
My neck twisted as I looked over my shoulder to her house. “Yeah. Yeah, she’s in Astoria.”
“The boys weren’t too hard on you when you showed up, were they?”
“Not as hard as you’re going to be,” I joked, smirking at my shoes. “Let’s get it over with.”
“You sure?”
Checking my watch, I let out a sigh. “You have two minutes. Go.”
For the next two minutes, my friend attempted to cuss me out.
It only lasted two sentences before she started crying and said she was coming to Astoria next week for the story.
She demanded to see me, and I promised I’d be here.
She cried some more, and once again, I marveled at the fact that her tears didn’t make me want to crawl out of my skin like Angel’s did.
A few minutes later, I came back in, finding Angel right where I left her.
The guilt on my shoulders was a little lighter now that Abbie had forgiven me.
One less thing to worry about, one less thing to apologize for.
I focused on the present, grounding myself.
The large windows behind the couch were open, and a light breeze flowed in, shifting her sheer white curtains, the shadows of the tree leaves dancing on the warm hardwoods.
Just outside, perched on a branch, a robin sang in the afternoon glow.
For a moment, I couldn’t believe my eyes.
The scene in front of me was something out of a dream, a dream that, on the right nights, had the power to shove the nightmares back into the lock box and give me a bit of reprieve.
My eyes dropped to her peaceful face once more, and I stared. Unabashedly.
I don’t know how much time passed, but eventually, I sat on the love seat, leaned back, and let the tension in my body loosen. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Before long, I’d memorized her breathing pattern, clocked six eye twitches, and heard four small whimpers.
For the first time in nearly a decade, I felt peace, and I allowed myself to rest.
The sound of soft humming forced me from a dream of sunlight, laughter, and Angel.
My eyes slowly opened to find the real sunlight was nearly gone.
The windows were closed, and the couch across from me was empty.
The pile of blankets had migrated from the couch to a large woven basket by the fireplace, each one neatly folded and stacked.
Everything was so perfect. It felt like I was in a magazine, disoriented and out of place.
I sat up and rolled my neck, and my body sighed.
For the first time in years, I felt rested—relaxed.
The feeling was foreign to me, and I didn’t know what to do or how to proceed.
A smell hit my nostrils then, a blend of herbs and spices that had my mouth watering.
I looked over my shoulder, my eyes trying to follow the scent and the soft humming.
I was on my feet quickly, the floorboards creaking under my weight as I moved across the foyer and dining room.
The smell got stronger, the humming louder with each step.
I rounded the corner and stopped at the mouth of the kitchen, my eyes locked on her.
Angel’s back was to me. She was washing something in the sink, the small curtains pulled shut over the window above it.
To my right, there was an array of pots and pans perched on the gas range, steam rising from each.
My eyes shifted to the pile of prepped veggies and herbs tucked into little bowls on the counter.
My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten today.
Now that I’d had a power nap, my body was ready to catch up on the next thing I’d been denying it.