by Aly Martinez
“What? Don’t be sorry. I get it. You forget I spent years pining over that woman. It fucking sucks.” He laughed. “We had shit for a mom. Then Eliza showed up one day, doing everything for you boys that a real mother should. It’s not hard to figure out how those lines got crossed for you. It never really bothered me until you moved out. Then it killed me because there is nothing in this world that I wouldn’t sacrifice for you . . . except her.”
“I never—” I started but he just kept talking over me.
“I knew you’d eventually get over it when you met someone. So I let it go . . . probably for too long.”
“I’m over it,” I rushed out.
“Why? Eliza not good enough for you anymore?” He quirked a teasing eyebrow.
“Ash—” I started and I swear to God he interrupted me again.
“But she’s only sixteen?”
“Yeah, but—”
Interrupted. Again.
“In a month?” He glared at me, unimpressed.
“I guess—”
Inter-fucking-rupted.
“You love her?” he asked again.
I was so frustrated by his constant interruptions that the word escaped my mouth without a conscious thought. “Yes!”
Yes?
No.
No?
Maybe?
Fuck.
Yes.
A world of hurt faded away with such a simple admission. I didn’t understand how in such a short time that crazy girl had sauntered in and twisted my life into something unrecognizable—but on the other hand, that was probably exactly how. With Ash, it didn’t matter that I was being smothered by gravity. I was more focused on her than I was on how impossible it felt to breathe. Air in my lungs wasn’t a priority when she was laughing beside me.
God, I’m such a dumbass.
Till watched me intently. “What was that? I didn’t hear you. Can you repeat that for me?”
“I said yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes. I love her!”
His signature one-sided grin popped up. “Then I’m gonna find her.”
“That easy, huh?” I asked sarcastically as the reality of my feelings continued to settle in my chest.
“No, its gonna be expensive as shit, but I owe you for saving Eliza.”
“You don’t—”
He cut me off.
Again.
Son of a bitch!
“Yes I do. And if you love her then she’s family. You know how I feel about my family.”
God, did I know how Till felt about his family. Just the fact that he was standing there after the hell I’d put him through over the last few months spoke wonders.
“I’m sorry.” I paused, waiting for his response.
When it appeared that he had no plans to interrupt me, I opened my mouth to continue my apology, but my asshole brother, who I equally wanted to punch and hug, got there first.
“We’ll call Leo. Get a referral for a good PI firm.” He smiled again, proving that he was in fact fucking with me.
His words were reassuring and the levity of his attempted joke helped soothe my nerves.
Momentarily.
“What if . . . we can’t find her? Or what if . . . we do find her and I can’t fix this? I said some really shitty stuff.”
“We’ll deal with that when we get her somewhere safe. Besides, I have big plans to hold you down and shave that shit off your face. Not a woman in the world will be able to resist you. Well . . . except my wife.” He winked and punched me on the shoulder.
He was such a dick. It was easily one of the worst days of my life, and Till was cracking jokes at my expense.
I loved him for it.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
“Thank me when she’s home.” He held my gaze for several beats in an unspoken promise.
A promise he more than kept.
Chapter Seventeen
Flint
FOR THE FIRST WEEK AFTER Ash disappeared, I spent every waking moment driving around the city looking for her. Even Max and Donna got in on the action, toting a picture of her around and showing it to anyone they could find. I knew she wasn’t in the city anymore, but it was either keep busy looking for her or allow my head to implode sitting at home worrying about where the hell she was.
Finally, after eight days, Ray Mabie admitted that Ash was actually his stepdaughter. Her last name was Carson, but she had elected to use Mabie even before her mother had taken her own life. While he’d never formally adopted her, he’d been a father to Ash since she was two. That was pretty much all the information he was willing to provide. With the knowledge that she had turned him in, he was reluctant to offer any possible guesses to her whereabouts. I plotted that man’s death enough over those first two weeks to secure myself a place on death row—even without the crime ever being committed.
After two weeks, the car Ash was driving was found abandoned at a truck stop about an hour away. Bile had risen in my throat at the thought of her climbing into a random trucker’s cab. She was young and gorgeous; it wasn’t like she would’ve had a difficult time convincing some perverted scum to drive her out of town. Visions of her being taken advantage of led me to destroy my apartment until my upstairs neighbor called the cops. Not convinced that the paralyzed maniac shredding books and splintering furniture was mentally sound, they refused to leave me alone until Till showed up.
Unfortunately, he brought Eliza with him. The instant she walked into her old apartment she burst into tears then begged me to move back into their house. But I couldn’t leave that place. I might have moved into that shithole because of the memories of Eliza, but I refused to leave because of the memories of Ash.
My life became a perpetual cycle of ups and downs. The day they found Ash’s car was really low for me. I was terrified something had happened to her. Then two weeks later I experienced one of the highest highs when surveillance video turned up of her shoplifting from a convenience store.
She wasn’t home, but she was still okay.
Still smiling.
Still laughing.
Still dreaming.
The private investigators Till hired had more than proved to be good at their job, but Ash had proved to be better. It seemed they were always one step behind her. Luckily, she hadn’t gone far. Every time they managed to track her down, she was always within a two-hour radius of the city.
It gave me hope that she had plans to come back.
It also made me a little neurotic because every single time I left my apartment I unconsciously searched for her face. Every blonde I passed and every laugh I heard was always her.
It was never her.
I slept on that patch of weeds outside my apartment more times than I cared to admit over those first four weeks. She loved those damn weeds.
I just loved her.
I knew the investigators were costing Till a fortune. Though he never acknowledged that, nor did he seem to care—even as the weeks turned into months. Each time they popped up with some sort of information on the elusive Ash Mabie made them worth every penny.
Suddenly, at the one-year mark, Ash disappeared all over again.
We received a final video of her stealing clothes from a department store, narrowly escaping security. After that she seemed to fall off the radar completely. I was devastated. Then I got pissed. Really fucking pissed. Sure, I’d said some mean shit to her, but no worse than the crap most people spouted in a fight. And there I was, using my brother’s money to stalk my ex-girlfriend.
I went to Till around the two-year mark, begging him to call off the search. He smiled and nodded, agreeing with me. He’d said all the right things, validating my feelings. Then one month later, I received the usual “no news” email update from the investigating firm. It infuriated me that he hadn’t stopped the whole search. We got into a huge fight that night in which numerous punches were thrown and ultimately ended with us rolling around on the floor while Quarry
acted as ref. Coincidently, it was also the loudest I had laughed since Ash took off.
A lot of things happened over those years spent searching for Ash.
I couldn’t find her, but the most amazing thing happened: I found my fight for life again.
In desperate need of distraction, I threw myself into the gym and physical therapy. If and when I saw her again, I wanted to do it standing so I could tell her to fuck off eye to eye.
Or strip her naked and lose myself inside her.
Or send her packing without so much as a backward glance.
Or lock her in my bedroom so she could never leave again.
Or walk away, showing her exactly what she was missing out on.
Or lie in that patch of weeds while listening to her laugh for all of eternity.
Like I said: lots of ups and downs.
I also got really serious with school, graduating college in just two and a half years.
I added my diploma to the list of things I could throw in her face, proving how well I had done without her.
Or that I could use to provide for her forever.
One of the two.
Definitely one of the two.
But regardless of the reason, positive or negative, Ash was always my motivation.
Moving on was hard, but the world kept spinning and time never stopped.
I got older; I assumed she did too.
I got stronger; I prayed she didn’t need to.
I built a life; I hoped she did too.
I never stopped wishing that she would come back; I didn’t even care if she wanted me to.
Then, on a cool Friday morning, the world stopped spinning.
And time came to a screeching halt—at least for me.
Three years, four months, one week, and five days after Ash Mabie took off, I brought her home.
* * *
“Wake up, sunshine,” Till said, sauntering into my room, kicking the foot of my bed.
“Jesus Christ, I knew I shouldn’t have given you a key,” I grumbled, clearing the sleep from my eyes.
“Like you had a choice. I made the down payment on this baby.”
“It was a gift, and I said I was gonna pay you back, asshole.”
He lifted a silver boxing glove keychain in the air and jingled it at me. “Yeah, but until then . . . I get full access.”
“Why are you here,” I rolled over to look at the clock, “at six a.m?”
“Well I would have been here at three, but Eliza made me wait. She also made me feed and change little Slate since I was already awake. That took forever. That boy has entirely too much of Quarry’s attitude in him.”
“Did he flip you off and tell you to fuck off like this?” I asked, giving him the finger as I sat up, only mildly amused by the conversation.
“He might as well have. The kid’s only four months old, but I swear to God he said ‘shit’ the other day.”
I let out a loud chuckle, shaking my head. “Seriously, why are you here?”
“Oh, right. You need to get dressed. We’re going on a road trip.”
“If this has anything to do with scouting another fighter, it can wait until I clock in at nine.” I rested my elbows on my knees, cradling my head and wishing I could go back to bed. I still had two hours before my alarm clock went off; I was in no mood to go on any impromptu road trips.
He didn’t say anything for several seconds until I finally looked up to find him looking down at me warily.
“What?” I growled.
He took a giant step back, well out of my reach, before he said the words that I’d both dreaded and dreamed about for over three years.
“We found her.”
My stomach dropped.
My heart stopped.
Flames shot through my veins only to be iced by the nerves that immediately collided against them.
“What?” I repeated on a whisper.
“She’s about ninety miles away. Someone at Willing Hearts homeless shelter started digging around on Victoria Mabie. It pinged on our end and when the guys got there, they found out she’s been living there for over a year.”
Chills spread over my body as anger brewed in my soul. I blankly held Till’s eyes while anger, relief, and hope all warred inside me.
He pulled his phone from his back pocket and passed it to me. Sure enough, there was a picture of Ash smiling, huddled between two elderly women at what looked like some sort of office Christmas party.
Same hair.
Same eyes.
Same face.
Completely wrong smile.
Before Till could even object, I hurled his phone as hard as I could, shattering it and denting the wall.
“Well, okay then. We’re gonna need to make another stop now.”
“Fuck her,” I said, pushing to my feet and grabbing my forearm crutches that were leaning against my nightstand.
“Flint. . . .”
“Get out,” I snapped, limping my way to the bathroom.
“Flint, don’t do this.”
Oh, I was doing it.
“I need to get dressed. Have the coffee ready,” I snapped.
Till loudly clapped his hands. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”
* * *
Less than two hours later, Till and I arrived at Willing Hearts. It wasn’t the hellhole I had expected, but it still infuriated me that she’d lived there—just within my reach—for so long.
“We’re here to see Judy Jenkins. My name’s Till Page. I believe she’s expecting us,” Till said into the small intercom at the front door.
“Oh hi, honey. Come on in,” the friendly voice replied as the door buzzed, allowing us entry.
The smiling face of a gray-haired woman in her late sixties greeted us.
“Hi, I’m Judy. So nice to meet you.” She extended a hand toward Till.
“I appreciate you seeing us today. This is my brother Flint.”
Her eyes flashed to mine, growing wide before filling with tears. “Of course it is.” She grabbed her heart and continued to watch me with gooey eyes usually reserved for twelve-year-old girls, not elderly women.
“Where is she?” I barked, causing Judy’s warm smile to fall.
Till kicked the foot of my crutch out from under me, sending me stumbling forward. Just before I crashed to the ground, he grabbed my arm and stepped in front of me.
“Whoa, easy there,” he said, then snarled into my ear, “Less abusive ex-boyfriend, more long-lost love.”
I gave him the side eye as I got my crutches positioned on my forearms again. Taking a deep breath, I pasted on a smile that I was positive looked no less authentic than it felt.
“So where’s Ash?” Till asked when he turned back around.
Judy was still eyeing me as she answered his question. “Tori . . . I mean Ash, is out on a breakfast run. Every morning she delivers food to the people we can’t take on at night. There’s just so many of them, and our space is really limited.”
For a brief second, my smile turned genuine.
Yeah, that sounds like Ash.
“She’ll be back in about an hour. Listen, I did a lot of research on you two before I agreed to this. Leo James spoke very highly of both of you. I even had Kathy, our volunteer accountant, look you up on the computer. I’m sure you two are nice young men.” Her eyes flashed to mine. “But if she doesn’t want to see you, I will have you escorted out.” She lifted her eyebrows and pointedly glanced over her shoulder to an overweight elderly security guard sitting at a desk in the corner.
Till began to quietly chuckle while nodding. “We completely understand.”
“Good. Now that we’re clear on that,” she took a deep breath before rushing out, “I’m really happy there are people who care about her. She’s such a sweet girl. We didn’t realize until recently how young she was. She was a minor when we first took her in and we had absolutely no idea. She told us she was nineteen and Lord knows she looked older than that, so we
didn’t even question it when she asked if she could volunteer.” She motioned for us to follow her down the hall. “It wasn’t until one of our regulars found her sleeping on the streets that we found out that she was homeless too.”
My whole body stiffened as I froze in the middle of the hallway.
She was sleeping on the streets.
I may not have grown up in the lap of luxury, but I always at least had a roof over my head. I began chewing on my bottom lip as I found myself lost in the visions of Ash at sixteen resting her head on the cold concrete. My heart began to race and guilt overwhelmed me.
I should have been there for her.
I wasn’t.
I sent her packing into that world.
Alone.
“Hey,” Till said, stepping in front of me, reading my anxiety. “Never again. We’re here. That life is over for her.”
I nodded absently, but I couldn’t escape the thoughts.
“Much better,” I heard Judy whisper before releasing a sigh.
Till urged me forward with a squeeze on my shoulder. My legs may have followed, but my mind was stuck reeling in the middle of that hall.
Judy continued, “We didn’t have much to offer her, but she was so good with everyone who walked through the doors that we knew we needed to keep her.” She stopped at a door. “So we made her a room, and Tori . . . erm, Ash moved in.”
She pushed open the door to what could only be described as a small closet. The walls were bare, and the floor was covered in old faded linoleum. There was a small pile of clothes in the corner situated beside a worn-out pair of neon-green Converse. A cot and nightstand were wedged into the tiny space.
And on that nightstand sat my book.
I roughly pushed past both of them and scooped it up. I could tell by the tear on the cover that it was in fact my copy, but I continued to search for further proof just to be sure. As I started to flip through the pages, Dave Egger’s heartbreaking words were barely visible. Each and every page was filled with her handwriting. It started in the margins then eventually ran between his words as if his typed letters were nothing more than lines for her to write above. Then there was the highlighting. Random letters were highlighted in green, pink, and blue. Never a whole word, just a random ‘a’ here then an ‘n’ a few lines down. Sometimes there were multiple colors in each word, then other times one of the colors would disappear completely for several pages.
