Close to Me

by Monica Murphy

  Jake doesn’t seem too happy about this. “Maybe? I’m guessing he has nowhere else to go.”

  “Yeah, but why do they have to bring him here? So he can be our new family charity case?”

  “That’s mean, Jake.”

  “It’s true, and you know it. Dad likes to have projects. Now Ash can be his.” Jake punches the doorframe, curses under his breath, and then slams his bedroom door.

  Well. That was interesting.

  I argue with myself over going downstairs and then finally decide screw it. I live here. I can go in the kitchen and get myself a glass of water if I want. So I go running down the stairs, my steps extra heavy as a warning that I’m coming.

  When I enter the kitchen I find Dad already standing there, a neutral expression on his face. “Hey princess. You’re up late.”

  I grimace. “Don’t call me that.”

  He raises his brows. “Sorry. How’s, hey Autumn?”

  Smiling, I make my way to the refrigerator. “That’s much better.”

  “I don’t know how much you heard earlier…” His voice drifts and I shut the fridge door, turning to look at him with complete innocence.

  “What are you talking about?” I don’t want him to know Ava and I were spying. I want to see exactly what he’ll tell me, and if he’ll be one-hundred percent truthful.

  He blows out a harsh breath before bracing his hands on the edge of the counter. “Ash was—abused today. By his mother’s boyfriend. He didn’t show up to practice and after no one could get a hold of him, I went over to his place to find him tumbling out the front door of his apartment, kicked by that asshole who beat the hell out of him. Sorry.”

  I smile gently, touched he’d want to apologize to me for cursing. “It’s okay, Daddy. You’re mad.”

  “I’m mad as hell,” he agrees with a ferociousness I’ve never heard from him before. “If I could, I’d go personally kick that animal’s ass myself. But I don’t want to go to jail, so there’s that.”

  “We don’t want you to go to jail either.” I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Where’s Ash?”

  “In the shower. Your mom is making up the bed in the guest room for him. I got some clothes from Jake that Ash can borrow. I think.” Dad hesitates, uneasiness appearing in his gaze. “I think he’s going to stay with us for—a while.”

  “Oh.” I go still, standing on the opposite side of the kitchen island from my dad. “How long?”

  “I don’t know. Does that—bother you? Having Ash here?”

  “We’re not really friends.” And that isn’t necessarily a lie.

  “You get along with him okay, though? Right? At least you can try to? Poor kid has been through hell today. He’s hurt.” Dad shakes his head, his expression grim. “He’s probably been through hell for some time now.”

  “Should he see a doctor?”

  “He refuses, but I think we’ll take him to one in the morning. Right now, we all need to go to bed and start the day fresh tomorrow. You included.” He approaches me, smiling as he reaches out and gently squeezes my shoulder. “You finish your homework?”

  “Yes,” I lie. I can finish it during lunch tomorrow. Or during other classes. “I’m going to go to bed. Good night, Daddy.”

  “Night, princess. Ooops, Autumn.” He chuckles and the sound does something to me. Twists my heart and makes me sad. I run to him, run into him really, my arms wrapped tight around his waist as I bury my face against his chest. His scent is familiar, comforting.

  “I love you,” I tell him, my voice muffled.

  He runs his hand over my hair, and I swear I hear a hitch in his voice when he says, “I love you, too.”

  It’s past one in the morning and I’m walking through my house like some sort of creeper, coming to steal whatever I can find. I’m downstairs, on the opposite side of the house, the side not many people see. I rarely come over here. Mom’s office is here, along with an exercise room she and Dad use on occasion, but not really. Beck is currently requesting they turn it into a theater room, and knowing how things work out for him, he’ll probably get his wish.

  The guest bedroom and bath, which is like a second master suite, is on this side of the house. I remember that when we first moved here, I wanted this room for my own so bad. I begged and pleaded, but they weren’t having it.

  Now I can see why. I’d be isolated. I could slip in and out of the house easily. In fact, I still can, but I’m not wanting to leave the house.

  I’m trying to seek out the newest person who’s staying here.

  When I spot the guest bedroom door, I’m surprised to see it’s partially open. I figured he’d keep that door tightly closed and possibly locked. But it’s not.

  And then I see a camera flash. Ash is awake. He’s most likely on Snapchat. But would he really take a selfie when he looks as bad as he does? I mean, I don’t know how bad that is, since I haven’t seen him yet, but still…

  “Callahan.” His voice is low, but I can still hear it. “Is that you?”

  I’m shocked. What did he do, sense my presence? That’s just weird. I go to the doorway, stopping just outside of it. “Can I come in?”

  “Hell no. I don’t want you to see me.” The mattress moves, and I assume he’s shifting into a more comfortable position. A grunt escapes him, then a little groan. “Go away.”

  Now it’s finally his turn to tell me to go away. “Are you okay?”

  “No. No, I’m pretty fucked up, but thanks to your parents, I’m hoping I’ll be okay in a little while,” he answers.

  I bet that is the most truthful Ash has ever been with me. And I can appreciate that. “Do you need anything?”

  “Just your tender loving care,” he says, and I know he’s teasing me.

  “You won’t even let me come in the room.” I’m now standing in the doorway, and there’s no light on, but the shine of the moon through the bare window that faces the backyard illuminates the space with a silvery glow.

  “Trust me. You don’t want to. I look fucking awful.” He chuckles under his breath. “Feel pretty damn bad too.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” He says those words quickly, and I respect his wishes.

  “I guess I should go.”

  “Yeah, you should. Let me get some sleep.”

  “You weren’t sleeping when I showed up here.”

  He sighs. “Caught me.”

  “Who were you talking to?” I squint, trying to make out his features, but there’s a shadow across his face. His mouth appears swollen, and I see there’s a white bandage above his eye. He’s holding himself stiffly, as if it hurts to move, and I feel bad. Despite everything we’ve gone through, how terrible he’s been to me, how awful I’ve been to him, I want to tell him sorry. I want to comfort him.

  But I can’t, because he has a girlfriend.

  “I wasn’t talking to anyone,” he says, knocking me from my thoughts.

  “I saw the flash of your camera.”

  “I was taking a photo of myself to document this shit. So I don’t ever forget it.”

  I believe him.

  Taking a deep breath, I say, “Well, good night.”

  I’m turning to leave when his voice stops me. “You going to try to follow me around all the time now, Callahan?” He just experienced the worst thing ever, and now he’s teasing me. He could’ve suffered worse injuries, he could’ve died.

  And he’s acting like it’s no big deal.

  “Of course not,” I retort, determined not to make it a big deal either.

  “Good,” he returns just as fast. “Guess we’re going to have to try real hard to avoid each other then.”

  “Guess so,” I say, leaving before I say something more.

  Something stupid.

  Something untrue.

  I enter the kitchen the next morning to find Ash sitting at the counter, eating scrambled eggs and bacon with toast. Mom never makes us breakfast during the weekdays.
That’s a weekend thing, and since we’ve moved here, it’s become Dad’s weekend thing.

  I’m not in the best mood in the mornings, so seeing Ash get better treatment annoys me. This also means I’m a heartless bitch and I need to get over it.

  “Morning,” I say in general, though I’m really talking to Mom, who’s plating more food, I’m assuming for me. I don’t look at Ash. It’s like I’m afraid to see his face, though I need to turn and see it eventually.

  “Good morning.” Mom is extra cheerful—also unusual. Pretty sure I inherited my cloudy morning moods from her. She smiles at me and indicates the plate before her with the spatula in her hand. “You want breakfast?”

  “Sure.” I take my breakfast and turn, fully facing Ash for the first time. I stare at his face, our gazes meeting, and the plate slips from my fingers, falling onto the wood floor with a loud clatter, eggs and toast and bacon everywhere.

  He grins at me, and he reminds me of a pirate with only one eye open. All he needs is a patch. His mouth looks like he received Kylie Jenner-style lip injections, they’re so swollen. His cheek is bruised, along with a few scratches, and there are finger-sized bruises on his neck. “Mornin’, sunshine,” he says, his voice raspier than usual.

  I press trembling fingers to my lips as I take him in, and my heart literally aches for him. How can he act like this is no big deal? “Oh Ash.”

  His smile fades, replaced by a scowl. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”

  He’s mad. Mad because I feel bad over what happened to him. Mad because I had the indecency to show sympathy. I don’t understand him. I will probably never understand him. And I wish I could.

  I wish I could go to him and hug him close. Tell him everything’s going to be okay. But that would be a lie, because I don’t know if his life will be okay. He’s a mystery, and so are his circumstances. I doubt he’ll ever tell me what’s really going on.

  And I’m not sure if I want to know.

  At a loss of what to say, I kneel and start picking up the mess I made, grabbing the food with shaky hands and throwing it on the thankfully still-intact plate. Mom helps me, sending me a look as we’re both bent over the floor.

  “Act normal,” she whispers, and I just stare at her incredulously. How can I act normal when the very boy I’ve dreamed about my entire high school existence is now staying in my house? And who appears to have been beat within an inch of his life?

  We both rise, Mom dumping the food in the trash before she grabs another plate. “Sit down,” she tells me. “I’ll bring you your breakfast.”

  I go to the counter and sit on a stool, not right next to Ash, though. I leave an empty seat between us, because I can’t be that close. I don’t want to see the damage that closely yet. I’d rather stare at it from a distance.

  But I’m not distant enough. I study him unabashedly as Mom engages him in tentative conversation. The bruises around his neck break my heart. Did his mom’s boyfriend actually try to kill him? The bruises that ring his eye go from black to purple to red, and his actual eye is swollen into a slit, while the cut above it is held together with a butterfly bandage. I wonder if that wound actually needs stitches. Dad mentioned they’d probably take him to the doctor this morning, and I really hope they do. Ash looks like he needs serious care.

  Ava is next to enter the kitchen, and before she can even catch a glimpse of Ash, he’s gone. He doesn’t bother catching my eye or saying anything. Just slips off the barstool and makes his way toward the opposite end of the house, where the guest room is.

  I’m wondering if we’re going to start calling it Ash’s room now.

  Mom turns away from the stove with a plate in her hand, stopping short when she sees the empty barstool occupied by Ash only seconds ago. “Where did he go?”

  I shrug. “He just—left.”

  Ava settles onto the stool, smiling at Mom. “What did we do to deserve a big breakfast?”

  Mom parts her lips, ready to answer but I interrupt her. “She did it for Asher Davis. We just benefited.”

  “That’s not true.” Mom presses her lips together.

  I send her a look. “Come on.”

  With a sigh, Mom deposits the plate in front of Ava. “Fine, you got me.”

  I munch on my last bit of bacon and stand, grabbing my plate to take it to the sink. “Hurry up, Ava. We have to leave in ten minutes.” I drive my brother and sister to school every morning, since we all go to the same one now, which is kind of weird. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in school with Ava, though this is our last year together.

  I’m leaving the kitchen as Beck comes barreling in. “I smell bacon!”

  Mom laughs. “Good morning to you, too. I guess you want some breakfast? Autumn!”

  I pause in my tracks, glancing over my shoulder at her. “What?”

  “Tell Jake to come down here and eat real quick before you guys leave.”

  “I’m not going upstairs.” My backpack is in the laundry room/mudroom that leads into the garage. “Text him.”

  Mom rolls her eyes. “Fine.” She whips her phone out of her pocket and starts tapping on the screen, ignoring me.

  Which is good. Because I have other plans.

  I hurry down the hall toward the guest bedroom, pausing in the open doorway just in time to see Ash, naked from the waist up, his back to me. He bends over slowly, as if it pains him, and snatches a T-shirt from the bed, then tugs it on.

  Deciding I’m a total creeper who needs to make herself noticed, I clear my throat and knock on the door lightly. “Can I come in?”

  He keeps his back to me. “As long as you don’t fling a plate of food at me, Callahan, we’re good.”

  “I didn’t fling the plate—” I clamp my lips shut, annoyed with myself. I don’t need to defend what happened earlier. I was seriously so shocked by his condition, I couldn’t help but react. And now, as usual, he’s trying to play it off as one big joke.

  “I almost wore eggs and bacon this morning.” He turns to face me, and I hold everything in. The words, the pain, the surprise at yet again seeing him like this. His beautiful face, marred. Almost unrecognizable. “All thanks to you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “It was just so…”

  “Don’t apologize.” He starts pacing briskly, then immediately slows his steps, and I know he has to hurt. “And don’t—don’t tell anyone what I look like, okay?”

  “I won’t talk about you at all,” I promise.

  He stops in front of me. “Really? You won’t?”

  I shake my head.

  “They’re all gonna talk anyway.” He’s not wrong. Our school is one big gossip fest. “I texted with Rylie a little last night before I went to bed, but I didn’t tell her where I was,” he says.

  “You didn’t?” Why not?

  “I don’t want to bring her into this.”

  “Speaking as a someone who’s been a guy’s girlfriend, and depending on how serious you two are, I think she deserves to know. She’ll only worry about you.”

  “We’re not really together.” He shrugs, and his admission makes me happy, which means I’m a terrible human. “Why would she give a shit? Why does anyone give a shit?”

  Oh. I’ve been around a variety of Ashes, but never a poor, pitiful Ash. “I’m guessing Rylie gives a shit about you. She’s a nice person.”

  He squints at me with one eye, since the other is pretty much swollen shut. “You friends with her?”

  “Sort of?” My answer is like a question. We’re not close. We have mutual friends.

  Ash nods once, then reaches up, tentatively running a hand through is unruly hair. “Rylie won’t like this. This might be too messy for her.”

  I’m frowning. “Too messy?”

  “She likes things to look a certain way. Sort of like you, Callahan, and your pretend life.” He smiles, but it fades fast.

  I’m guessing he saw the hurt flicker in my eyes. I have no idea what he’s talking about, or if that’s an
insult. I think it was.

  “I have to go.” I smile brightly. Falsely. “See ya later.”

  I exit the room before he can say anything else, which he doesn’t.

  He doesn’t stop me from leaving either.

  Nineteen

  The high school is humming with gossip about Ash all morning long, to the point that by lunch I hear a rumor he’s hooked up to machines in a hospital and near death. I remain quiet, though it downright kills me not to correct anyone. All the stories about what happened between Ash and his mother’s boyfriend have a hint of truth wrapped up in a bundle of lies.

  I’m in the quad as usual, eating with Kaya, Daphne and our group of friends, when Rylie Altman approaches our table.

  Of course she does.

  “Hey Autumn.” She smiles, and it immediately wavers. There’s so much emotion swirling in her eyes, I’m afraid she might burst into tears at any moment. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Sure.” I set my sandwich down on its wrapper, ignoring the curious looks Kaya is shooting me. I haven’t even said anything to her, and she’s my best friend. I told her my parents said I couldn’t talk about it, because she knew Ash was with my father yesterday, thanks to Jaden, who was at practice when it happened.

  But that’s all she knows. I’ll reveal all when I can, what I can, but right now, I have to stay true to my word.

  Stay true to Ash.

  I follow Rylie to a little alcove behind the library building, and we both sit on the empty bench with plenty of space between us. I refuse to speak first. She’s the one who wanted to talk to me, and I don’t want to slip and say something I shouldn’t.

  She’s the only person on this entire campus who I believe deserves to know what really happened. Even if it’s just glossed-over details, she still should know that Ash has been hurt, but he’s safe. Even though he said they’re not together, they have some sort of connection. Why else would she want to talk to me?