Table of Contents
Quote
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty- Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Epilogue
Untitled Document
Acknowledgements
"Sometimes you meet someone, and it's so clear that the two of you, on some level belong together. As lovers, or as friends, or as family, or as something entirely different. You just work, whether you understand one another or you're in love or you're partners in crime. You meet these people throughout your life, out of nowhere, under the strangest circumstances, and they help you feel alive. I don't know if that makes me believe in coincidence, or fate, or sheer blind luck, but it definitely makes me believe in something."
—Unknown
Chapter One
Maggie
"Asher! Please, get in the car!" This kid was seriously going to be the death of me. I knew that scheduling my classes earlier in the day would be a problem, but Western college didn't offer the classes I needed to take after four.
"I'm not going!" His whiney voice carried from the living room, which was just a step inside the townhouse. I was just about to get into my car and start our day, but his temper tantrum brought me back inside. I slammed the car door shut and double checked the time on my wrist. We were already five minutes late. But I guess it wasn't as bad, since people expected this of me. I shouldn't have cared what the general population thought. But I still did.
I stormed into the house. I'd never seen my feet move so fast this early in the morning—especially after such a laid back summer of going into work at ten and getting home by five. There were two short cement steps up to my home, and I grabbed onto the black wrought iron railing to catapult myself through the front door.
I found Asher sitting on the small love seat. His face was streaked with crocodile tears. He looked up at my loud entrance with wide eyes and a trembling lower lip. His eyes were red and blotchy. I couldn't stand seeing him this upset. His tears were my weakness. The fact that we were late didn't matter anymore. I just had to make him feel better.
"What's wrong, baby?"
"I don't want to go to school anymore," he said between ragged, sobbing breaths. I walked over to his side and sat next to him. I wrapped my arms around his skinny body and pulled him towards me. He was reluctant to accept my comfort, but when his arms circled me, I let out a sigh of relief.
I let him rest his head on my chest as I brushed his overgrown brown hair off his forehead. He soaked my tee with his tears, but it hardly phased me.
"Why not? You love school," I said as his breathing started to even out.
"Because you can't come, too."
I didn't know what to say. We had spent the entire summer together, every day and night playing in the sun and going on adventures. I even brought him to work with me most days. But it was September now, and we both had responsibilities other than each other. I had to admit to myself, I was attached just as much as he was.
"Buddy, I have to go to school, too. Trust me, I'd rather hang out with you all day, but summer's over. Back to school time." I laced my words with conviction.
He looked up at me through his long, dark lashes and pouted, sticking his cute ruby bottom lip out and up. I had to hold back a smile so he didn't get upset.
"Come on." I hopped up off the couch and reached down, grabbing his hands and tugging. He let me lift him up, although he let out a frustrated groan that I couldn't help but laugh at this time. He glared at me so I turned away. I started to walk us to the front door, his stomping steps behind me. Victory at last. Maybe all the self-help books I had been reading were finally paying off.
I locked the chipped yellow door behind us and watched Asher run and jump into my brand new Honda Accord. Well, it was new to me, but I had bought it used about a week ago. It had 130,000 miles, but the dealer had promised that it was in tip top shape. Luckily, the dealer was a friend of my dad's so I got a good deal, and despite the cutthroat nature of him, I trusted him on the car details.
I got into the car and started the ignition. As I pulled out of the complex's driveway, I caught Asher's face in the rearview mirror. He was no longer crying, but his face was pinched, his breaths short and through his nose, almost like he was snorting.
"What do I have to do to cut that crazy hair of yours?" I asked him, noticing that his long bangs were now bothering him. Although he would never, ever admit that he wanted it cut, I knew that he had to be annoyed with the way the strands tickled his eyes and nose.
He loved the shaggy-dog look that most athletes bore. All summer long I tried to get his hair cut, but he refused, claiming that all the cool hockey players in professional leagues let it hang. But as I glanced at him in the mirror, I caught him blow the hair out of his eyes and tuck it back behind his ears.
"I like it long," he muttered as he turned to look out the window, squeezing his bottom lip between his pointer and thumb. His eyebrows pinched together in the cutest way, but I felt sorry for him. "But, I might do it for a special hockey stick."
I smiled at his guts, but at the same time, my stomach rolled. My mouth felt like cotton balls were stuffed inside. My skin prickled. I knew what stick he had been wishing for—he showed me in every damn magazine and had a picture on the refrigerator door. My budget didn't allot for that kind of purchase.
Yet, as I looked back again in the mirror when I stopped at a red light, his green eyes captured me as he leaned forward, and I couldn't say a thing. I'd do anything for this kid—including spending my entire paycheck. Maybe I could dip into my parents' money if I got really behind.
"Deal," I said, nodding. I reached my hand backwards between the passenger and driver seat. He grabbed onto it with a sly grin and shook it, sealing our little deal.
"Can we go today?" His voice perked up like it was infused with positive energy, and I knew that his day was already looking up. And I did that. I felt stronger as my lungs expanded with a satisfied breath.
"No. Tomorrow we can. Lisa is stopping by to watch you until I get out of school."
"Dang-it!" he yelled. He crossed his arms over his chest, his thumb snaking its way towards his mouth. His eyes drooped a lit
tle.
"Ash," I whispered, not wanting to start another fight. But I had been trying to break him of his thumb-sucking habit forever. I tried the lemon juice, wrapping it with an ace bandage at night, even gloves. But nothing worked.
Two months ago, I decided that we needed to see a therapist—both of us. Doctor Cohen told me to let him cope in his own way. She said that if thumb sucking was his biggest vice, then I was doing okay. So I dropped the subject despite the fact that some people—my grandmother Margo—rode my ass about Asher and his negative habits.
"I'll be home to tuck you in, promise," I told him as I pulled down the dead end street to his school. Woodbury Elementary was a beautiful school, set back in the rural woods and endless dirt driveways. I went there when I was a child, and I knew that Ash was in good hands when I dropped him off every day.
It wasn't the teachers who I worried about. I knew the kids in this area were entitled little assholes, but I agreed with Dr. Cohen when she said not to uproot him more. I rented the townhouse last year so Ash didn't have to switch schools right in the middle of his elementary school career. I knew that it was better for him, but I just wanted to find a new place that would accept me more. Living in refurbished old mansion-turned-apartments wasn't my idea of living the life.
I parked my car in the southern lot, since I had a meeting with the guidance counselor. Asher didn't have any problems with school. He was a smart kid, didn't get into trouble, and was a joy to have in class. He was only nine, but I swore he acted older. Maybe our parents' death aged him, but he was like his before, so I didn't believe that much. But the counselor wanted to make sure I knew what I was doing, and Dr. Cohen told me to meet with her just to check in regularly.
Asher jumped out of the car with his Guardians of the Galaxy backpack slung over one shoulder. I stepped out into the strangely warm air and reached over my seat into the passenger side to grab my purse.
"Are you coming?" Asher asked as he stopped before the road and waited for me. He rubbed his forearms and adjusted the backpack so it was perfectly even on both shoulders.
"I have to talk to one of your teachers."
"Am I in trouble?"
"Of course not," I said as I grabbed his hand. We walked across the street together. Two lines of stopped buses had their lights on and blinking as they let kids off. All the other children were so excited to get to school. I recognized one of Asher's best friends get off bus 14, but he didn't even look our way.
"Isn't that Logan?"
"Yeah!" Asher giggled, bouncing from foot to foot, but he made no move to go see Logan. I looked down at him with narrowed eyes but let it go. He clutched my hand as I held open the front door for him. A security guard posted at the front stopped me when I entered.
"I have to go sign in. Have a great day, Ash." I bent down so our eyes were level and grabbed both of his shoulders. "I love you."
"I love you, too." He kissed me on the cheek, hugged me so tight I groaned, and then disappeared into the crowd of students all bustling through the stark white halls. My stomach twisted with worry, but I couldn't dwell on it. Ash was going to be fine.
I'd never felt this awful before, but already, I missed him. I let out a heavy sigh as I tried to mentally shake it off. I clutched the hem of my tee-shirt and cleared my throat as I bent down at the guard's desk. I signed my name, flashed my driver's license to the gray-haired man, and then walked towards the office, which was just the next door down.
I hadn't been in the school in a couple months, but already it felt different. The way the too short ceilings seemed to press down on me. The sparkly tiled floors were almost too buffed and shined; it agitated me. I pictured myself on ice, slipping and falling all over the place.
"Maggie Larken?" a woman asked as I stepped into the office. She eyed me up and down skeptically, as if questioning my age. I'd seen the woman around before—I think she was even working here when I went to school. Her white hair was coiffed up and to the side, her eyeglasses dangerously low on the brim of her nose. They were probably only being held up since her chin was jutting out, her nose turned up to me.
"Yeah. I'm here to see Mrs. Kellar." I stopped in front of the large desk that ended right at my shoulders. The office smelled acidic, kind of like Lysol cleaner. I looked around and it was clear that the place hadn't been updated in decades. Its blue carpets had brown colored stains in wide ringlets. The painfully white walls were barren and uninviting, which was dumb since this was the main office. They should want people to be welcomed.
"Miss Larken, just through that door." I nodded and walked past the desk to a door that read Counseling Center. I peeked in first, not wanting to interrupt, and when I saw a single woman at a desk, I walked in.
"Hi, Maggie!" The woman jumped up from her seat and held her hand out to me. "I feel like I already know you through our emails." She laughed, and I got the feeling that it was genuine.
"It's great to finally meet you," I said as I sat in a blue chair across from her desk. The chair matched the carpet, both in color and stains.
"I'll just get right to the point since I know you're a busy woman. From what you've told me, I don't see there being any issues, but I just wanted to check in." She folded her hands over each other on her light wood desk and leaned towards me. She had nice eyes—plain brown, but wide and curious. Her hair was a dirty blonde, styled in waves that fell to about her shoulders.
"I appreciate it," I told her honestly, making solid eye contact. "He didn't want to come today. But he seemed fine when I left him. I don't think he needs any special help, but I just feel like as long as you know about our parents passing and the fact that I have custody of him, the more eyes the better in case something were to happen."
"I think that's very wise of you and proactive."
"Thanks." I blushed because it was rare that I heard words of encouragement and positivity about my situation. Most of the time it was my grandmother breathing down my neck, trying to steal Asher from me.
"I'll stop by his classroom later today. I won't say anything, just observe."
"Thank you so much. I really do appreciate it. Like I said, he was fine over the summer, but his therapist suggested I take an extra step and notify you. He hasn't exhibited any depression or anxiety since early May." I paused and then remembered, "Other than the thumb sucking."
"That's very common though. Some children who haven't even gone through the death of someone, let alone losing both parents, suck their thumbs. Like I said, I'll keep an eye on your brother for you." She stood from behind her desk, and I took that as my dismissal.
"Thanks for everything," I told her as I took her hand in goodbye.
"He's going to be okay."
"I hope so."
Chapter Two
Luke
My alarm clock buzzed from beside me. Out of instinct, I wove my arm out from under my pillow and slammed my hand on where I suspected the clock to be, but my fingers hit only open space.
Frazzled, which I rarely was, I sat up and looked around through the fog. I was so used to being in my college apartment that I forgot that I was staying at my parents' house, until, of course, I saw the Maserati posters and naked girl calendar on my wall. I sighed and dragged my hand through my unruly way-too-long-for-a-teacher hair.
"Fuck," I muttered as I spun off the bed and hit the clock. I sat at the edge of the bed and rested my elbows on my knees. I started my new job today, and I was way too hung over to be dealing with the faculty. The kids I could handle.
It wasn't that I didn't appreciate the job because I did. But I wanted something different. When I forsook my parents and changed from being on the fast track to becoming a lawyer to starting from scratch in hopes of being a teacher, I was all but banished from their favorite country club—not that I was complaining.
But I wanted to make a difference in children's lives, not teach in an upper-class town just for the six figure pay. Although I knew there could be a child like me in the mix who really
needed help, which was the sole reason I took the job. I wished a teacher had noticed the bruises on me as a child and interfered, putting a stop to my problems before they got worse. The mere fact that I wasn't teaching at my own prep school was enough to create drama within the Wilson crew.
I got up from the bed and rummaged through my suitcase on the floor for a button up shirt and khakis. From what I could tell from the professional meeting, the other teachers thought I had bought my job, so I at least had to act the part.
I stared at the Maserati poster that covered a punch hole from years ago. Just looking at all of the frozen memories made my blood heat. I quickly grabbed my leather briefcase, which had a stack of plain papers in it and nothing else, and bolted from the room.
"Good morning, Lukey Pukey," my youngest sister sang, although the sarcasm was not lost on me. I smiled down at her and ruffled her perfectly-brushed hair that I was sure she spent hours primping. From the flare of her nostrils and squint in her eyes, I knew she was pissed. But I liked getting a reaction out of her. The girls in this family were all too stuffy and snobby.
"How's it going, Lilly?"
"You woke me up when you came home at one, so let's just say, not great."
"Sorry 'bout that."
"I'm sure you are." She brushed past me down our long hall, her elbow catching me right in the gut before she descended the curved staircase that led to the bottom level. "Hey, when are you moving out?" She stopped at the bottom step and looked over her shoulder, flipping her hair with a flick of her wrist.
"Not soon enough, Lil." I noticed as she looked up at me that there was a mark on the side of her face. "What happened? You scratch yourself?"
"Oh." She pressed her palm to her face, her cheeks reddening. "I just, like, hit it on the mirror. It's no big big deal." She turned to walk away, but I needed to know if it was him.
"He slapped you, didn't he?" I grabbed her shoulder to stop her from running away. There was no way I could leave now. All my searching for my own place and personal hatred of living here had to be squashed to protect them.
For The Love of Ash Page 1
