Vote Then Read: Volume I

by Carly Phillips

  Watching Ash’s pain and knowing that there was nothing I could do to make it better - nothing except love him through it - was a kind of agony I never thought could be so debilitating.

  The moist, salty air washed down deep into my lungs as I watched the cloudy, calm surface of the ocean out to the horizon.

  I felt the hurt in Ash’s heart just as surely as I felt my own beating in my chest. But I breathed in deep again knowing that at some point, just like the sea, his storm would calm, his grief would run out of rain, because even the darkest of nights break for day.

  And weeks… months… years into the future, it would be easier to look back and see what has grown from the healing waters that was once nothing but a trail of tears.

  “Taylor?”

  My head tilted to see Ash appearing behind Brett.

  “Hey, man,” he stuck out his hand to the local delivery guy. “Thanks for your help. Sorry about that… I just had to take care of a few things in town.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Brett replied.

  “I think we got everything squared away,” I said cheerfully.

  “Yeah, no worries.” He shook Ash’s hand with a smile. “Everything should be there. If you have any trouble or any problems, just give us a call.”

  When he left, I turned to Ash and asked, “Are you okay?”

  I searched his gaze for anything I could do to make this easier.

  His head turned to the side even as his hands reached for my waist.

  His body shook against my fingers with the force of his sigh. “Don’t know how Eli is holding it together. If I’d been the one to find him… to see him… I can’t even—”

  “Tell me how you feel. Whatever it is, Ash.” I reached up and cupped his cheek. “However bad it is...”

  “Feels hollow, walking in places where he should be. His house… we were just there… he was just there… at dinner, talking to us, eating with us. It’s like walking into a hospital and finding no doctors. Or walking into a church and feeling like God is no longer there. Like something you never thought could be separated from a place is actually gone.”

  My throat constricted. “He may not be there anymore,” I told him thickly, placing a hand on his chest over his heart. “But he’ll always be here.”

  Ash’s gaze grew sheltered as he rested his forehead on mine for a second before bringing my palm up to his lips and kissing the center.

  “I just wish he would have said something. I never lied to him. Not once since I met him. Not about the things I’d done, not about all the times I’d searched his house for any kind of alcohol to drink. Not even the times I thought about having just one sip. I asked him for help so many times… Why couldn’t he just ask the same from me?”

  I drew a shuddered breath.

  “Sometimes, those of us who are the strongest for others are the ones that are the weakest when it comes to fighting for ourselves.”

  He tightened his hold and then turned us back to the house.

  “Eli gave me those plans for us to look at while I was in town,” he told me. “I set them inside.”

  Grief was like a rainstorm. Sometimes, you were stranded out in the deluge, feeling every cold, wet drop on your skin. Other times, you found yourself sheltered by a person or a situation where it became less noticeable, though it didn’t stop the rain from falling.

  There were moments when we were soaked with the loss, and there were others where pockets of happiness and a future to look forward to sheltered us from the hurt.

  “Oh, good.” I smiled up at him.

  Ash

  “I’ll let Eli know these additions are good then,” I said as Taylor shoved one more forkful of mac and cheese in her mouth with a sheepish smile.

  The old blueprints for my small shack included enlarging the bedroom and adding a master bathroom, an overhaul of the kitchen to allow for more space, an addition off the living room for a second bedroom, and a wide front porch.

  I’d told Taylor if she didn’t like it, then we’d buy another house, but she insisted she didn’t.

  “I don’t want another place. I want this place. The one you offered me to stay in. The one you took care of me and our baby in. The one where you gave me your truths. And the one you loved me in.”

  “There’s no—”

  “It’ll be done before the baby comes, I promise,” I cut her off.

  She was afraid it was a lot to be added to our plates, along with Eli and the Madison brothers who would be doing the work. She was right. But we also needed a lot right now in order to not fall stagnant in our sorrow.

  “Does Eli need anything else for tomorrow?” she asked.

  They managed to get ahold of his granddaughter, Laurel, thankfully. The whole town felt like it was in this strange grief-laden limbo, waiting for his funeral to finally say goodbye. I wasn’t convinced that it would change much but I had hope.

  “He still says no.”

  I’d asked a thousand times what I could do to help. And every time, Eli responded that I needed to take care of my girls and let him take care of this. How the hell was I supposed to argue with that?

  There was one thing, though, I knew I needed to do before the funeral. It was one of those things that felt impossible until a switch flips and suddenly, what you need to do is so simple it’s hard to believe why it was so difficult in the first place.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  Tay lovingly rolled her eyes and nodded to me. “Yes.”

  “Tomorrow’s going to be hard,” I told her. “So fucking hard.”

  “I know,” she agreed softly. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you in the hospital, Ash, but you saved me, too. You showed me in so many ways that no matter how strong we can be, love always makes us stronger together.”

  I walked over and kissed the top of her head.

  “I’m here, Ash,” she murmured. “Whatever you need. I’m here.”

  Whatever it was that tomorrow brought, we’d face it together; we’d get through it together.

  Together, we’d be stronger.

  Clearing my throat, I declared the one last thing I needed to do before tomorrow, “I’m going to go outside and call Blake.”

  I knew I wouldn’t be able to walk into the funeral and face Larry one last time without speaking to my sister first – without finally forgiving myself.

  Tay squeezed my hand. “I love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Salty ocean air greeted me as I stepped outside and walked down the path to the restaurant, searching for Blake’s number in my phone.

  Maybe that’s why I picked this place, I thought as I came to the clearing. Saltwater - so simple and incredibly healing. Maybe that’s why I’d risked everything to buy this place. So I’d never forget that it’s the simple things in life that heal - good friends, purpose, and perfect love.

  “Ash?” my sister’s voice answered the phone, resonating with the shock that she felt.

  “Hey, Blake,” I said hoarsely. It felt good to hear her voice after all this time.

  “What’s… what’s going on? Is Taylor okay?” she demanded.

  Taylor had called her when we’d returned from the hospital to tell her what happened. Naturally, my sister was almost as worried for her best friend as I was.

  “Yes, she’s fine. Home. Resting.”

  Blake paused. “Sorry. I’m just… I wasn’t expecting you to call is all. But I’m glad. So glad.”

  “I called because I needed to tell you I’m sorry, B.” My sigh was heavy as the wind carried it from me, heavy with the weight I should have let go long ago.

  “Ash,” she breathed my name incredulously. “I already forgave you. We already forgave you. You didn’t… you didn’t have to go—”

  “No, sis, I did… I did. And as much as I’m apologizing for that, I’m apologizing because I lied to you.” I’d dreaded this conversation for so long but now, each word only brought relief. “When I came to the house
that day and we talked, I lied to you by not telling you the whole truth. The truth is that I had a problem with alcohol. I had a problem and I thought because I was outwardly functioning it wasn’t actually a problem. And then I found out about you and Zach and I reacted not like I should have, no matter how shocked or hurt or upset I was. The alcohol… it’s not an excuse, but it is part of the reason.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line, and I knew Blake was trying to process. Like finding out Larry was depressed, some people are so good at hiding their monsters it’s hard to see them even when they come out into the light.

  “I want you to know that I’m sorry for what my addiction almost cost you. I’m sorry for the pain it did cause you and I’m sorry for the distance and distrust it put between us,” I said tightly, trying not to choke up as the heaviness lifting off my soul felt like the water pulling back from the shore.

  “And I’m sorry that I had to leave. The band, that life… it put me too close to things that needed to be removed in order for me to get better. I want you to know I didn’t leave because of you or because of you and Zach. I left because of me - because I needed to fix myself.”

  I heard her unsteady breath and I knew she was crying and trying not to let me hear. “Oh, Ash… a-are you okay? I mean did you…”

  “I’m sober,” I interjected, knowing that’s what she was trying to discreetly ask. “I’ve been sober for months now. Hell, B, I’ve been more than sober. I’ve been healing… and happy.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I met good people out here, Blay. Really good people.” I wiped a tear from my cheek. I couldn’t talk about Larry yet. It was too soon. “I got sober and then I bought a restaurant.”

  “Wha—What? A restaurant? Seriously?” she stammered.

  “Yeah.” I laughed. “I bought this building - well, you could hardly call it that when I bought it, but it’s right on the ocean. I’ll send you a photo. I’ve been fixing it up and it’s ready to open in like two weeks.”

  “That’s… that’s amazing, Ash. I just… I’m sorry—” She broke off and began to cry. And fuck me if I didn’t hope that Zach was somewhere nearby to hold her. “I’m just so happy… so relieved. I’ve been… so… worried,” she bit out between sobs and I found myself pinching the bridge of my nose so that I wouldn’t break down too.

  “Don’t cry, Blay,” I begged. “It’s good. I’m good… I’m recovering…. And Taylor… she and I… the baby…”

  How did I even begin to explain how I felt about Tay? About being a father?

  “I know,” my sister said softly. “I know exactly how you feel.”

  I stared out to the horizon, the sun just beginning to dip toward the edge of the sea and bathe it in red.

  “Kinda crazy, sis,” I said hoarsely, “how love manages to find you…”

  “And save you.”

  I turned back to the direction of the house, already worrying if Taylor was okay even though she’d roll her eyes again at me if she knew. Later, I’d show her - carefully - just what I thought of that eye roll.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you until now. I just… guess I felt like I needed to have something to show, something to prove I’m not the person who hurt you anymore.”

  “But you know I’ve already forgiven you?” she asked bluntly.

  “Yeah…” I agreed with a sigh. “But it was never your forgiveness I was worried about; it was my own.”

  “And have you forgiven yourself?”

  The hardest thing I’d ever done wasn’t accepting that I had a problem with alcohol; it wasn’t leaving my family and friends; it wasn’t forcing myself to stay dry until the cravings stopped; and it wasn’t even admitting to Taylor or to my sister just how far I’d fallen and asking their forgiveness. No, the hardest thing I’d ever done was forgive myself.

  When you screw up so badly, the hardest thing you’ll ever do is look yourself in the mirror and say, ‘I forgive you. You did a bad thing, but you are not a bad person. It’s time to move on.’

  But eventually, something or someone comes along that makes you realize that you’ve repented enough, you’ve done enough, and the time you waste pulling yourself down is only time that could have been spent bettering yourself or someone else.

  “Yeah,” I confessed with more relief than I thought possible. “I have.”

  “Good.” I could hear her watery smile through the line. “That’s good.”

  There was another beat of silence between us, one that was filled with the breeze and the waves below. I was finally free. Not of my addiction. Not of the road ahead and whatever new trials it would bring. I was free from the past that held me from every step forward, from finally healing, and it felt like the first time I’d stood on the edge of this cliff, knowing that this property would be mine.

  Inspiring. Hopeful. Full of promise.

  “So… can we come visit you? Can we come see your business?”

  I smiled, hearing just how excited she was to support my dream the way that I’d supported hers over the years.

  “About that…” I trailed off and looked back at everything I’d been working toward. “How does two weeks sound for the opening?”

  She laughed and immediately agreed.

  I walked back toward the house as our conversation turned toward lighter topics, finally filling in the gaps that the months disconnected had caused.

  32

  Ash

  One Week Later…

  “Eli?” I shouted as I pushed open the door to Roasters.

  The place wasn’t back open yet. Not even close. With Larry’s death, everything was put on hold. It was strange… haunting… to step onto the floor that still crunched with dirt and debris from the mess that had been made.

  The tables and chairs - the ones that had been salvageable - had been moved to the back. Barely a third of the pictures still hung on the wall, the rest still sitting in their broken frames on the counter.

  But it was the emptiness. No Larry. No customers. No family. That was what really made the place feel more desolate than the rest of the mess that needed to be cleaned. There hadn’t been a day before two weeks ago that I hadn’t walked into this place when there wasn’t people in it, sharing love and a cup of coffee.

  Larry was gone and his funeral created fractures through Carmel – fractures everyone was looking to Roasters to pull back together. But instead, it just sat. In a desolate purgatory.

  With a long sigh, I put my hand on the counter and pulled away dust.

  Soft footsteps from the back drew my attention as Eve walked in wearing sweats and a Roasters tee that she’d designed and made for customers to buy.

  “Hey, Ash. Eli’s not here,” she said with a weary smile. “He was supposed to come meet Dex, but something came up with Laurel.”

  The prodigal.

  She’d been at the funeral. Strawberry hair and tortured eyes. I’d given her my condolences, feeling even worse at the blank stare that had greeted them. There were some that knew her from before, like Diane, and Josie, and the Covingtons – and obviously her aunt and uncle. But for most of us, she’d been a name and a photo, a sad story that ate away at Larry until there was nothing left. Now, she was back - she was real. And the rest of us wondered what was to become of Roasters because of it.

  “You holding up okay?”

  She nodded, about to say something when the door opened behind me and Dex and Miles walked in. Like she was a living alarm, Eve’s face turned bright red when she greeted them.

  “Ash,” Dex shook my hand. “Wasn’t expecting you here.”

  “I was on my way to the jeweler. Figured I’d stop in and see if Eli was around. I haven’t heard much from him since the funeral.”

  “Little Laurel’s been keeping him busy,” Miles said with a half grin, his eyes purposely avoiding Eve.

  “He’s not here?” Dex asked.

  “He told me to meet you,” Eve interjected. “Something with Laurel came up.”r />
  “Shit,” Dex swore.

  “What’s going on? You find out something?” With Taylor in the hospital, I wouldn’t be surprised if Eli told everyone to keep me out of the loop for the time being.

  “We have more information, but I wouldn’t say we found out anything,” he said with a low voice. “Eli said someone from Blackman approached Laurel a few days after the funeral offering to buy Roasters. I guess Larry left it to her in the event of his death.”

  “He didn’t leave it to his daughter?” I asked. Not that Jackie Vandelsen would touch this place with a giant twenty-four-carat pole, but she was still his daughter.

  Dex shook his head. “It all went to Laurel. And, to be honest, she seems like a nice girl, but I don’t know that she wants much more to do with this than her aunt does.”

  It was hard to imagine this town without Roasters.

  Impossible, really.

  I cleared my throat, not ready to think about that right now. “So, what are you thinking?”

  Dex looked on edge, like his mind was working through a million scenarios, a million possibilities, but he was forced to wait until someone else made the next move.

  “We know they approached Larry to sell. When he wouldn’t, they tore this place to pieces looking for something that they presumably didn’t find because now that he’s gone, they’re trying to convince Laurel that this place isn’t much - isn’t worth the effort.”

  “Motherfuckers.” Red rage burned me from the inside out. “What is she going to do?”

  “He said she told them she needed to think about it. Said she seems lost - torn between wanting to go back to the city and feeling beholden to her grandfather and the family business. He’s trying to convince her not to sell. Hard to do when the only thing that ties her to this place is tragedy.”

  First, her parents. Now, her grandfather. I didn’t want to understand why her decision would be hard, but I did. I wouldn’t want anything to do with a place that held so much loss either.