“Because it should prove that you’re madly in love with me, therefore, leaving the killer with no choice but to come after me, thus allowing us to take him down before he does something else to piss me off,” Ashlyn explained as he somehow managed to navigate his way out of their room without the door hitting her.
“And ye think a piggyback ride is gonna be the thing that breaks him?” Shayne asked, chuckling as he carried her to the elevator.
“It couldn’t hurt,” Ashlyn said, reaching over to press the call button when he shifted to the side.
“And those activities ye dragged me ta this past week ta entice him?” Shane asked as he thought about everything she’d dragged him to this week from brunch to paddleboat rides, wine tasting events, and even trivia night, all while hoping that it would be enough to lure out their killer.
“The paddleboat should have worked,” Ashlyn grumbled as he waited for the elevator doors to slide open before he stepped into the elevator just as Quinn suddenly appeared.
“It probably would have if the big baby hadn’t pouted the entire time,” Quinn said, making a show of inspecting his nails while Shayne stood there, seething.
“I waited fifteen extra minutes for the black duck and they gave it ta the little bastard instead,” Shayne bit out, and Christ, he could feel Ashlyn roll her eyes as she reached over and hit the button for the ground floor.
“He was six,” she pointed out.
“He knew what he was doing,” Shayne bit out, still pissed that they’d been given the pink duck.
“I’m going to continue with my interrogation now unless you want to hunt him down so that you can glare at him again,” Ashlyn said dryly before he felt her shift so that she could focus on Quinn.
“Why do you both have a scar running across your palms, but Tristan doesn’t?” Ashlyn asked, taking them both by surprise.
“Tristan wasn’t in this body when we were first alive, lass,” Shayne pointed out.
“So, he had the same scar?” Ashlyn asked, sounding genuinely curious.
“No, we refused ta give him one,” Quinn said, turning his hand over so that Ashlyn could get a better look. “Our father did it ta make sure that we weren’t afraid of getting cut.”
“How old were you?” Ashlyn asked as she reached over and ran her fingertip over his brother’s scar.
“Four winters,” Quinn said, shrugging it off before he dropped his hand away.
“You were four years old when he cut your hand open?” Ashlyn asked, making them chuckle.
“It was best ta get it over with early, lass,” Quinn said with a teasing smile, disappearing when they reached their floor.
“Why didn’t he do it for Tristan?” Ashlyn asked as he carried her off the elevator.
“Because he’d died before the lad was born. When it came time ta train him, none of us had the heart ta do it ta him. He was too damn kind for his own good,” Shayne said as he carried her towards the back exit so that they could take the walkway along the lake, knowing how much she liked it.
When she didn’t say anything else after a few minutes, Shayne turned his head to find her looking lost in thought. “Something troubling ye, lass?”
“Do ghosts ever search for their loved ones?” Ashlyn asked after a moment.
“Aye, some of them do,” Shayne said as he carried her towards the lake. “Is this about yer mother, lass?”
“Would I have known if she came looking for me?” came the softly spoken question that damn near broke his heart.
“She would have stayed by yer side until yer time was over,” Shayne said as he watched her think it over.
“I’m ready to walk now,” Ashlyn said, looking lost in thought as he stopped so that she could climb off his back. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she was taking his hand and-
“You would have seen her,” Ashlyn said quietly.
“Aye,” Shayne said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze as they took their time walking towards the path that would take them through the woods. “What happened ta yer ma, lass?”
“We were driving home late one night and it started to snow. At least, that’s all I remember. The police report said that she’dlost control of her car and slammed into a tree. They thought she became disoriented after the crash, so they sent out a search party for her, but they could find her,” Ashlyn said, slowly exhaling.
“After the accident, I went to live with my uncle, but he couldn’t handle taking of a child that just lost her mother, so I ended up in foster care for a few years. I kept asking questions about my mother, kept demanding answers, only to get told that she most likely walked away because she couldn’t handle being a single mother anymore.”
