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“Who cooked for you? How did you live like that?”
“A lady came by. I think she was from China. She didn’t speak English. She cooked and cleaned a bit.” I can see the house in my memory, the old wooden floors, the big windows and the porch, the verandas with the tree foliage rustling overhead, the clear blue skies. “I rarely saw Jerry. He spent most of his time locked up in his room upstairs, had his meals there, stayed far from everyone.”
Loneliness. Isolation. Silence that goes on and on.
This memory isn’t as bad as the one of the basement, but it was a long, dark time that went on and on, alternating between the highs of the pills and the depressive lows where I would curl on the floor like an animal and wish the earth would swallow me.
My hand’s twitching on the table, and my leg is bouncing. The urge to start counting is getting hard to ignore.
“Ty.” Ash is frowning at me. “You all right?”
I curl my hand into a fist to stop the twitching. “Look, I lived through that, okay? I lived through Dad’s craziness and Jerry’s absence. I’m here now. I’m...” I force a long breath into my lungs, hold it as long as I can before exhaling. “I’m doing my best, believe me, Ash.”
Ash is staring at me as if I’ve grown horns. This is a fucking disaster. I can’t even talk about my recent past without having a breakdown. What the hell?
“Hey.” Ash puts his beer bottle down carefully. “Listen... It’s okay.”
I blink at him, still trying to regulate my erratic breathing. Trying to understand what he’s saying.
“Talking about such stuff is hard.” Ash absently rubs his side, and I recall that’s the spot where he was sliced open by the thugs who attacked him a couple months back. “At first I didn’t want to talk about Dad and the beatings to anyone. Didn’t want anyone to see the scars or know I didn’t manage to fight back to save myself. That I held out hope that Dad would come back to his senses one day. I thought people would laugh in my face, you know? Make fun of me.”
I nod, because that’s my greatest fear when it comes to Ash—and Erin.
“Look, I know I didn’t give you a chance to explain at first. I was so fucking mad at you, I wanted to bash you head in.” Ash sucks on the inside of his cheek and looks away. “I know you don’t feel comfortable with me. Hell, I punched you last time. I won’t lie. I’m still mad at you, but I understand.” He blows out air from the corner of his mouth, clasps his hands together and stares at me long and hard, as if wrestling with something. Then he looks away. “I understand enough to realize things aren’t as black and white as I thought.”
Hell. Can’t remember the last time I heard him talk so much, or so fast. He sounds nervous.
“So what I wanted to say, man, we can just hang out and meet with the guys and Audrey and do stuff and... We can talk more about this later.” He pauses and exhales. “When you feel better. We have time. I mean, if you’re staying. Or visiting us again later. Are you... ? Hell, I don’t know what you plan on doing and—”
“Ash.”
His eyes flash up, and for a second, I see something in them that raises every hair on my body.
Fear.
He’s scared shitless. It’s not that he’s afraid of me, or even for me, I realize. He’s afraid I’ll vanish into thin air again.
Can’t blame him. Dammit, Zane said it: I’m the only family Ash’s got left. Sure, he has Audrey and his friends, but what if he needs me around, after all? Flaws and all, ticks and OCD and withdrawal symptoms and screaming nightmares?
Ash is chewing on the inside of his cheek again, and I resist an urge to tell him to stop. I also have an urge to get up and leave or put my fist through the table and let out my frustration.
Instead, I take another swig of my beer. “I don’t plan on leaving.”
Silence falls. The sounds from the nearby tables and the music fade. Ash is running a hand through his spiky hair, tugging as if he wants to rip it all out.
“Okay,” he finally says, barely audible. “Good. Yeah, that’s good.” He stands up, sending his chair screeching back. “Gonna grab us some more beers.”
I nod. I have a knot the size of Wisconsin in my throat, and I can’t swallow.
And Ash is just standing there, and I can’t hide.
“Hey, Ty.” There’s a tiny hitch in Ash’s voice, but his eyes are clear again when I look up. “Welcome back.”
Chapter Eighteen
Erin
It’s been two days since I last saw Tyler, since I jumped out of his bed and rushed out of his apartment, after going through the gamut of emotions—fear, relief, sadness, affection, love, attraction—and then the hottest sex of my life.
