ASH STARED AT THE CLOSED door, disbelief at her own actions racing through her head.

“You’re such a dork.” Kelly had settled into the corner on her mattress. She grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV.

Ash pressed her forehead against the cool wood of the door, and groaned. “I know.”

She plodded to her side of the room. Kelly was watching something with a bad laugh track and worse dialog.

Ash pulled out her laptop, but her gaze fell on her sister, laughing and captivated by what she watched.

She remembered the day Kelly was born. It was one of those moments permanently fixed in her head, attached to the label of where were you when... Her dad had built the event up for months, since they first sat her down and explained she was going to have a baby sister.

His lessons were drilled into her head, along with the rest of it.

“Big sisters help their moms.”

“How?” she asked.

“Whatever Mom needs. Help with dishes, or putting away clothes. You know how to do all of that, don’t you?”

She’d nod and say, “Yes, Dad.”

Which tended to get her a pat on the head and ice cream. She was willing to agree to a lot of things, even cleaning the bathroom, if there was ice cream involved.

It seemed like her mother needed a lot of help. Ten-year-old Ash learned to resent it quickly. Kelly was always crying. Mom was always crying. Dinner didn’t get made until Dad got home and did the cooking, which seemed to get later each week. So Ash learned to cook, too. Had to help Mom. Had to be a good big sister.

The second where were you when... moment that was permanently fixed in her head, came about six months later. Kelly was exactly 180 days old. Ash was in her room, with headphones in and music turned all the way up, because she was tired of hearing Kelly cry, and she was tired of hearing Mom cry, and she was hungry, and Dad forbade her from making dinner. Not because he thought it was dangerous, but last time she tried, she mixed hamburger in the macaroni and cheese, and he’d been saving the meat for something different.

Her father tore off her headphones. “What the hell did you do?”

She’d never heard him so angry. Never seen so much hatred and fury contorting his face.

It was a full day of ambulances and well-meaning relatives and more adults crying than she thought was possible, before she figured out Dad was upset because Mom committed suicide.

He rarely missed an opportunity after that to remind Ash it wouldn’t have happened—Mom would still be alive—if she’d been a better sister and daughter.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Kelly’s jab dragged Ash back to the now.

Ash shook away the dark clouds of the past. “Sorry. Spaced out.”

“You think? Look, Mischa Dozniyov is hot—old, but hot—but he kind of comes off as a tool.”

That drew a laugh from Ash and helped ground her. “He really does.” A sexy, fun tool, who let her forget her troubles for a night, but still a tool.

She flipped the lid up on her laptop. Speaking of, what the hell was he thinking, accusing her of blackmailing him? Who made threats like that?

Ash pulled up the email she sent last night, and scanned it again. This morning, with a few hours between her and its composition, and her brain working on full power, key phrases stood out to her.

Dangerous exploit... Someone will take advantage... Willing to come on board for reasonable compensation to correct the issue...

Maybe she could see how he interpreted it as a threat. Possibly.

Damn it, she needed to learn to think things through before she hit Send. She should just delete his number from her phone now, relegate last night to a passing memory, and go back to being her. She grabbed her phone and pulled up the contact she’d just added a few hours ago. Her thumb hovered over the screen.

The neighbor knocked on the door that separated the basement apartment from the house upstairs.

“I got it.” Ash set her computer aside and scrambled to her feet to see what Hugh wanted.

When she answered, he held out a cordless phone, hand over the mouthpiece. “It’s for G.”

“Thanks.” She gave him a grateful smile, shoved aside all her rambling thoughts about Mischa and her past, and took the phone from him. “This is Georgia. May I help you?”

There was a pause on the other end—she’d gotten used to that. He cleared his throat. “This is Reggie with GenuzTec. I received your resume in response to a listing for a Database Administrator position.”

She cranked the dial on her enthusiasm back to a professional level. “Yes, of course. It’s great to hear from you.”

“I’d like to discuss the position with you, if you’ve got a few minutes.” He seemed to have recovered from the initial shock of hearing a female voice.

“Now is perfect.” She glanced at Hugh, who stepped aside. She brushed past into the laundry room, grateful he was understanding about both her situation, and her compulsion to pace during phone interviews.

As Reggie asked her a series of questions, ranging from where do you see yourself in five years to what’s the command to determine if there are database locks, she answered each with concise, accurate answers.

“Do you have any more questions for me, Ms. Taylor?” His tone had shifted to something much friendlier than when the call started.

“When can we speak in person?”

He laughed. “I was just getting to that. I don’t suppose you can come in this afternoon. I have an opening at two.”

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying Hell, yes. “I think I can fit that into my schedule.” She walked back into the apartment, headed for the fridge, and scratched out the rest of the details on the dry erase board as Reggie gave her address and other information. She disconnected, double-checked to make sure the line was off, then fist pumped. “Yes.”

Hugh took the phone back from her. “Fingers crossed for you,” he said with a grin.

“Thank you.” Ash was already ticking off in her head a list of things she needed to do to get ready.

He had the door halfway shut when he paused. “Before I forget, anything I need to know about this morning?”

Ash ran the question through her head, and didn’t find a match for meaning. “Uh, no?”

“Making sure. Guy in a suit shows up asking for you, and he looks like he’s seconds from blowing a gasket, then I hear shouting... I gotta make sure you’re all right.”

He meant Mischa. She gave Hugh a thin smile. “He found me, but problem solved.” Or something like that. “Thanks for worrying about us.”

“Always.” Hugh knocked her lightly on the shoulder with his fist. “And good luck today, seriously.”

She was grateful someone had her back who didn’t expect something in return. When she met Hugh, she’d thought he might be hitting on her, but after some awkward and embarrassing you’re not my type on her part, they’d found a middle ground where she realized he was just a friendly guy.

She locked him out of the basement apartment and set about getting ready for her interview. She had a couple of decent slacks and shirts outfits she kept for when she started office work again, but one suit, tailored, cut to make her look attractive, professional, and like she had her shit together.

This was one of those rare times where she wished she believed in a higher power. It would be nice to send a plea toward the sky, and believe someone was listening and watching over her.

By the time she got to her interview, the butterflies in her stomach were launching their own revolution. Reggie was probably in his late forties, but the lines around his eyes, and the slouch in his gait, made it difficult to tell. He met her in Reception. His handshake reminded her of a damp washcloth, and she resisted the urge to wipe her hand on her slacks when she pulled away.

He led her to his office, and nodded toward the chair across from his desk. “Thank you for making time for me this afternoon.”

“My pleasure.” She kept her tone light, even as his gaze drifted to her chest. She twitched her fingers against her leg, rather than reach up and try and close the gap on her shirt with an extra button that didn’t exist.

He shuffled the papers in front of him, her resume on top with a bunch of notes scribbled that she couldn’t read. “I was impressed with your knowledge, but I’m concerned about your lack of education.”

“Tell me how I can prove I’m qualified.” She tried to make contact, but he hadn’t looked up yet. “I’m a quick learner, and I’m happy to take whatever tests are associated with the position.”

“I’m just concerned with your lack of education, you’re not a good fit for the job.”

She clenched her jaw, fighting back the then why did you call me in? Her first instinct was to let him see how pissed she was, but last time she did that, she was almost literally thrown out on her ass. “I see.”

“But I may have an assistant position opening up.”

“That’s not where my training is, but as I said, I’m a quick learner.” If the job paid well, she’d put up with some creeper staring at her boobs a few hours a day. Especially if the position came with benefits.

He finally met her gaze, but only for a few seconds before he stared at his hands. “I don’t have approval yet, and it’s only part time, but we’re a strong company, with good benefits, and there may be opportunities for advancement to something more like what you’re looking for.”

She could do that. Hope fluttered behind her ribs. “I’d like to find out more. Hours. Starting salary. Requirements.”

“Your duties would be determined on a day to day basis, and the hours are flexible, but no more than twenty a week. Hourly pay, three dollars over minimum.”

It took her about half a second to do the math, since the pay was barely more than she made now, but the hours were half. On the other hand, if it was part time work, she could do both jobs. If it meant proving herself so she could move into the position she wanted, that was a double bonus. “If you opened a position like that, I’d think about it.”

“Perfect.” He smirked, and her skin threatened to crawl away. “I’ll run it by the guy up top, for approval. Are you free this evening to discuss details? Dinner, at eight.”

Run far. Run fast. Run now. The words chanted in her head. She gave him a thin smile and stood. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Thank you for your time.” She spun so quickly, she caught her foot in the leg of the chair, and stumbled. She didn’t dare look back as she exited the office, head held high and pace as quick as it could be without her sprinting.

The elevator ride down made her stomach do additional flops, and by the time she reached the main floor, she had to swallow back the bile rising in her throat.

At this rate, she was never going to find a new job.

She stalked into the parking lot, fumbling in her purse for her keys. As she neared the car, she grasped the leather key chain. It resisted. She tugged harder, and her keys pulled free, sending her phone flying at the same time.

“Damn it.” She lunged for the device. There was no way she could replace it if it broke. Her fingers brushed the edge again, and then a second time, juggling it in the air. Finally, she grasped plastic and glass, just in time to realize she was off balance. She tumbled to the ground, phone clutched safely in her hand. As she landed on the back of her wrist, she heard something pop, and a sharp pain jolted through her, tingling from her fingertips to her shoulder, and down to her shoes.

“Fuuuuuuck.” A scream tore from her throat before she could stop it. She looked around to see if anyone was witness to her newest feat of clumsiness, but the parking lot was empty.

Her arm throbbed as she climbed to her feet, and brushed the gravel from her slacks. At least her interview suit was still intact. In need of a dry clean, but she could do that.

She let herself into the car and sank into the seat with a sigh. She’d go home and ice her hand, wrap it as tight as she could, and take it easy until work tomorrow.

When she gripped the steering wheel, a jolt of pain ran through her. Okay, she’d take it easy starting now. She settled her elbow on the arm rest between seats, and kept it as still as possible. Each time she stopped too quickly, or took a corner faster than she should, a new jab of agony wrenched the right side of her body.

By the time she got home, a stunning purple bruise was forming. There was no way she was taunting the universe with a question like What next? She already knew things could get worse, and wasn’t interested in adding more crap to the growing pile.

****

ASH PULLED ON HER WORK clothes, careful not to jostle her wrist. Instead of a sharp stabbing pain, a dull ache ran through the joint. She didn’t know if it hurt less, or if she’d just gotten used to the pain overnight.

She made it to work driving with mostly one hand. The longer she went without the second, the easier it became. She was punching in when her supervisor stopped next to her.

“What happened?”

“I sprained it or something. Nothing big.” Ash kept her tone casual.

The other woman eyed her arm. “Either that’s very swollen, or you didn’t wrap it tight. Sit down.” She nodded at a break room chair. “I’ll redo the binding for you.”

“Thanks.” Ash did as instructed. Her supervisor had three kids a little younger than Kelly, and was forever talking about which scraped or bruised what that week. Ash figured she must have a little experience with wrapping a sprain.

“Jesus, Ashleigh, what did you do?” Her supervisor gently tapped the swollen purple mass.

Ash bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. “Like I said, sprain or something.” She spoke through clenched teeth.

“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure you broke it. You need to see a doctor.”

The word doctor set off a string of numbers in Ash’s head that all equaled financially impossible. “I can’t.”

The other woman wrapped her arm again, taking care not to jar it. “And I can’t let you on the floor like this. The official answer is for liability reasons, but this looks bad.”

“I can’t afford to miss work. Please?” Ash tried to keep her voice from cracking, as more daunting dollar signs scrolled through her thoughts. Bills she’d already put off too long, how she was going to sweet talk the landlord into another month of late rent, and more.

“I can’t bend on this one, I’m sorry. But look at it this way, if it’s broken, you’ll qualify for short term disability.”

Which meant a week of no pay before that kicked in, and reduced pay after until she could return to work. “Great.” She couldn’t make her smile genuine.

“Go to InstaCare, have them check you out. I’ll assume I need to take you off the schedule for a while unless I hear from you.”

Ash sighed with resignation, and trudged back to her car. She needed to call Kelly and tell her to take a bus to whatever clinic Ash ended up at, in case things took a while. Kelly was old enough to take care of herself in short bursts, but Ash hated the idea of leaving her home alone. Too many ties to the past.

And maybe they’d give Ash enough painkillers to forget for half a day that this was going to shatter her bank account into teeny, tiny pieces.