By the time Aster and Ryan made it to Ojai, it was too dark to locate the trailer. After a string of dead ends, Ryan booked them a room at the Ojai Valley Inn, so they’d have a nice place to sleep before they tried again the next day.
“Separate beds?” Aster stood inside the doorway, overcome with shyness as she nervously surveyed the room.
“Didn’t want to assume anything.” Ryan shot her a cautious look. “Also, I’m respecting your wish to take things slowly.”
At the time, Aster had been sure she’d never be able to sleep with Ryan lying in the very next bed. Turned out, she was so exhausted from the day and all that she’d been through, she was out the moment her head hit the pillow and didn’t so much as stir until Ryan returned the next morning with a large bag from the gift shop and a small tin bucket filled with two cartons of fresh orange juice.
“Supplies.” He tossed the bag onto the bed and handed her a carton of juice.
Aster twisted off the top and took a long, thirsty swig.
“They left the juice outside the door, along with this.” He tossed a copy of the LA Times onto the bed.
Aster stared at the front page. The headline—Who Is Madison Brooks?—blazed across the front page. The byline, of course, was Trena Moretti’s.
Quickly, she skimmed the article. It was basically a recap of everything Trena had revealed on In-Depth Sunday night, with one notable addition.
“Do you think Trena is working with Layla?”
Ryan drained his OJ, then came to sit beside her. “What makes you say that?”
Aster stabbed the paper with an unvarnished nail. Her rigorous schedule of salon appointments had taken a hit, but in light of her situation, she no longer cared. “Remember the newspaper article we saw, the one that mentioned two dead and two injured in the fire?”
Ryan nodded.
“She mentions it here. I mean, I guess she could’ve found it on her own. Just makes me wonder, that’s all.”
“Do you miss her?”
“Layla?” Aster scrunched her nose in distaste. “Mostly I miss Javen, and my parents. But I won’t take the risk of contacting them. I just hope once this is over, I can find a way to explain.” She fell silent, her fingers idly picking at a thread on the sheets. “Okay, fine. I miss Layla too.” She heaved a grudging breath. “It feels a little weird to be left out of the loop.”
“Don’t you think maybe they got notes too, and that’s why they haven’t contacted you?”
With a shrug, Aster folded the paper and pushed it to the floor. She was sick of reading about it. Sick of Trena recycling the same old stories that never failed to drag Aster through the mud. She nodded toward the bag. “Souvenirs?”
Ryan laughed and reached a hand inside, retrieving a matching set of his-and-hers hotel logo T-shirts. “Thought it might be nice to at least change our shirts. There’s a couple toothbrushes and toothpaste as well, along with a few other essentials. I figured we could shower, order some breakfast from room service, then head out and try to find that trailer.”
“What if there is no trailer?” The words hung between them.
“You think Roland was lying?” Ryan stood uncertainly before her.
Aster shook her head. “It’s just—it’s a trailer, which means it’s mobile. So what if it’s no longer there? What if the reason we couldn’t find it is because it no longer exists, or she moved it somewhere?”
“Are you saying you don’t want to try?” Ryan’s voice was tentative.
Aster bit down on her lip to keep from crying. She didn’t know what she was saying. All she knew was she was caught in a spiral of panic, and when that happened, nothing good ever came of it. She needed to stop thinking so much, stop overanalyzing every little detail, and just go down the list, item by item. “I’m running out of time,” she said. “And so far, I’ve got more questions than answers.”
In an instant, she found herself wrapped in Ryan’s arms. Her cheek pressed against his warm chest, as he whispered a string of assurances into her ear.
Against her better judgment, she melted against him. It felt good to have someone looking after her, caring for her, putting himself on the line for her. Ryan had gone above and beyond. He’d proven himself in more ways than she’d ever expected or even required.
“When this is over,” he started.
But before he could finish, Aster pulled away and dabbed at the tears that had spilled onto her cheeks. “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t project into the future. It’s too uncertain for me.”
She rose to her feet and headed for the shower, her own words reverberating in her head.
The future was uncertain. And yet she felt like she was speeding right toward it in a car with no brakes. There were less than two weeks before her trial began, and at the end of it, a lifetime spent in an orange jumpsuit seemed likely. If they locked her up, she might die a virgin. Her once amusing adolescent fear would come true.
It wasn’t the reason she paused short of the bathroom. Fear was always a reliable motivator, sure, but in this case, Aster couldn’t think of a single good reason for waiting any longer than she already had.
Ryan was only a few feet away. He was gorgeous, kind, supportive, and patient. He was the only one she’d ever wanted to fully share herself with. And yet, because of her, they’d wasted an entire night sleeping chastely in separate beds.
From where she stood now, it seemed like a terrible waste.
Slowly, she turned and extended a hand. When he met her gaze with a questioning look, she said, “You know, there’s a serious water shortage out here.”
He stilled, as though afraid of misinterpreting her words.
“In which case, it’s probably best if you join me. You know”—she grinned bravely—“for conservation purposes.”
In a flash he was beside her. “You sure?” He cupped her cheeks with both hands. The look he gave her told her he truly wanted the decision to be on her terms.
She was about to respond with another dumb quip about the drought, but the earnestness she found in his expression saw her pressing her lips against his, leaving no room for doubt.
“No point in wasting any water then,” he said, and sweeping her onto the bed, he slid his body over hers.