Chapter Six
Ashlyn
Forty minutes later, she’d amassed everything from Windex to bleach on the kitchen counter, but Mason refused to let her actually use any of it. Evidently, he thought the oh-so-charming love note was something that should be reported to the police. The rest of the crew currently taking up residence in her living room—including Em and Jay—seemed to agree. Ashlyn did not.
Every moment that passed with those words displayed on the front of her house grated on her nerves. She wanted it off. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“You’re probably right. It’s probably nothing,” Jay agreed. “But I didn’t even know my father knew someone capable of something like this. I thought all of his friends were . . . fooled. They thought he was someone he wasn’t. A decent person, like them. But if one of them is anything like him . . .”
A darkness shadowed Jay’s face until Em wrapped her arms around his waist. He looked down at her like she was the sun in his universe.
“We’re so sorry.” Tears sprang into Em’s eyes and Jay slipped an arm around her shoulders. “We never meant to drag either of you into this mess.”
“Em.” Mason took a step toward her, until Jay not-so-subtly tugged her even closer. Retreating, Mason tucked his hands in his pockets before continuing. “You didn’t drag anyone into anything, okay?”
Moving through the kitchen, Ashlyn dug out a bag of chips and popped one in her mouth. She had the sudden urge to devour the entire bag. Jay tracked her and narrowed his eyes. Whatever he was thinking, she didn’t want to know. The guy picked up on pretty much everything. Probably a throwback to his days on the street.
She couldn’t imagine what awful things could happen to someone who didn’t pick up on details out there. Someone like Em. If Jay hadn’t found her, kept her safe . . . But, all of that was behind them now. Jay and Em were together. They were safe. And they were counting on her to help keep them that way.
Grabbing a handful of chips, she stuffed her mouth with salty goodness. No matter what she did, this was not going to end well. The crunching didn’t even come close to drowning out her thoughts. Ignore the threat and potentially put herself and her friends at greater risk, or report it and deal with the fallout that was her mother? A rock and a hard place. She reached for another chip and found the bag snatched from her reach.
“Ashlyn . . .” Jay watched her face closely. “I don’t know what this is, but I do know my father. He’s a violent bastard without a conscience. Do you understand? Hopefully it’s nothing more than pathetic, cowardly scare tactics, but you need to report it. You could be in real danger, Ash. If something happened to you . . .” One corner of his lips tipped upward in a rare smile and it was easy to see why Em had fallen so hard for him. “Em would never forgive me. I’m asking you to help save my marriage here.”
Ashlyn groaned in defeat. How the hell was she supposed to say no to that? The tricky bastard grinned at her as he slid her cell across the counter.
“Fine.” She turned toward where Mason and Em were chatting quietly in the living room to make sure they shared in her displeasure. “You all win. I’ll file a damn police report.”
She pulled up the internet on her phone to search for the number to the local precinct, refusing to call 9-1-1 when it wasn’t an actual emergency, and felt a bump against her shoulder.
When she glanced up, Jay was back to his normal serious, brooding self. “Thank you.”
***
Ashlyn sat on the couch, fiddling with the fraying edge of her favorite burgundy throw blanket. The house was finally quiet again, but after the whirlwind of activity all morning she was still on edge. So much for her lazy Saturday off.
Odd sound effects of some old-school cartoon provided background noise, but she hadn’t bothered looking at the screen for the past half-hour. Someone had been right outside her house, vandalizing her home . . . and she hadn’t even known it. Had they touched the door? Tried to come inside?
“Uck.” A full-body shiver raced from head to toe. Goddammit, this was her home the one place she was supposed to feel safe. Some wannabe Van Gogh was not going to take that from her. He wasn’t going to take her control. Not here.
Her gaze drifted down the hall. She didn’t want to, but what choice did she have? She had to regain control. The police were gone. They’d taken statements, snapped a few photos and were on their way. Em and Jay had to get to work. Mason had offered to call in sick and stay with her, but she didn’t need a babysitter. And she had shit to do.
“Not yet.” She was breathing hard with the physical effort it took to force herself into the kitchen instead of the bathroom. There was no way she’d be able to regain control with those words still painted on her wall. And, god forbid, anyone else should see it.
Filling a bucket with hot water, she dumped in her own concoction of cleaning agents and dug out a pair of rubber gloves and a fresh sponge from under the sink. It took five freaking minutes to get the gloves on her sweaty, shaking hands and when she did . . . the phone rang.
“Perfect.” Well, that hadn’t taken long.
The gloves peeled off with a loud snap and she tossed them halfway across the room.
“Hello, Mother.”
“I come into the office this afternoon and do you know what my advisor tells me? She tells me that my daughter’s house has been vandalized. That a police report has been filed. Tell me, Ashlyn, why is it that I’m hearing this news from my advisor and not my daughter?”
“It really wasn’t a big deal, Mom. I didn’t want to bother you with—”
“Not a big deal? Channel five is already running the story.”
That would be what she was concerned about. “I’m fine by the way. Thanks for asking.”
“I know you’re fine! I read the police report. You didn’t even know they were there until they were long gone. Don’t you think I’d ask how my daughter was if I didn’t already know?”
“Mom,” Ashlyn leaned on the counter and dropped her head back with a thud against the cabinet door. “If you already know all of this, then why are you calling?”
“Because this has to end.”
“What?” Ashlyn’s eyes which had slid shut in an attempt to steady herself, shot open.
“This whole nonsense with the trial. I indulged you doing your civic duty, but, Ashlyn, this has gone too far. You’re making headlines. Associating yourself with a criminal. A child abuser of all things.”
“In case you failed to notice, I’ll be sitting on the opposite side of the courtroom.”
“All that matters is that you’ll be in the room at all.” She slipped into her ‘senator tone’. The one that could cut diamonds. “Do you know what this year is?”
How could she not? “An election year.”
“That’s right. And as such, I don’t have the luxury of allowing such self-destructive behavior right now.”
“Self-dest—Mom!” Her head spun. Hunching forward, Ashlyn wrapped an arm around her stomach and took a deep breath. “I’m not being self-destructive. I’m trying to help my friends. I’m trying to—”
“Enough. I know what you’re trying to do and I’m telling you it’s over. Let’s not forget the consequences of your last bad decision.”
“I have to go, Mom.” Everything was spinning. Everything was spinning out of control. A pair of headlights flashed against her closed eyelids. Breaking glass. Twisted metal.
“As do I.” A click signaled the end of the conversation and Ashlyn dropped her phone right where she stood.
Screw the paint, the words, her mother. Screw it all.
The bathroom door was an obstacle she didn’t have patience for. It was too much. Friends, family, threats, trials, friggin’ election years. She triggered her gag reflex and heaved. Nothing. Dammit, she needed it out.
Sweat coated her forehead and trickled down the back of her neck. Her entire body jerked with each heave until finally, finally the acrid burn coursed up her throat. Disgusting.
Completely wrung dry, Ashlyn slumped against the wall, struggling to catch her breath. The tang of blood lingered in her mouth. This wasn’t healthy. She wasn’t fooling herself. She knew she was sick, but it helped. It was the only thing that helped. The fiery burn in her throat and sore stomach muscles were a fair trade to relieve herself of the stress and guilt that threatened to tear her apart. To restore the control she couldn’t seem to hang on to any other way.
Long minutes passed and her ass was getting sore from sitting on the hard floor before she found the strength to drag herself up. The mirror above the sink reflected a pale face and dull eyes shadowed by dark rings. It wasn’t even two o’clock and all she wanted was to crawl back into bed. Instead, she brushed her teeth and flossed. She may have had a problem or two, but rotted teeth were not going to be one of them.
“I’m okay.”
A glass of milk eased the burn in her throat and after deciding there was really no need to get dressed, she put on a fresh pair of cozy pajamas and curled back up on the couch.
“I’m okay.”