Page 24 of Hiding In the Dark (The Righteous 4)
“Better. Head no stabbing and back better.” Momma G slowly sat up and moved her shoulders around.
“Take your time. I need to go to the bathroom.” Standing, Ashley marched out of the room and down the hall as fast as she could without drawing attention. She darted into the bathroom, and as soon as the door closed, she flipped the lock and sunk to the floor. Tears she’d been trying to hold back burst forth, and she gasped as the panic gripped her throat, making it hard to draw breath.
Ashley wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her head as the pent-up emotions finally knocked down the wall she’d erected. Her phone picked that moment to vibrate, and she took a steadying breath so she wouldn’t sound like she was in the middle of her obvious breakdown as she answered the no-caller-ID call.
“Ashley Hartley here,” she managed to get out.
“Hi there Ashley, this is the Mount Rose Clinic calling. I’m glad I reached you. We have had a last-minute cancellation for tomorrow at 9:00 a.m., and we are hoping you can take the spot. We’d like to get you started on your new treatment plan as soon as possible.” Ashley swallowed hard and closed her eyes as she listened to the woman explain what the procedure would entail. Spending up to eight hours with an intravenous drip in her arm and hoping she didn’t have a bad reaction didn’t sound like a fun day.
What felt like someone else answered the questions, and when she hung up the phone, it dinged with her confirmation and pre-procedure directions.
She had no idea how much time had passed until a knock jerked her back to full awareness.
“Ashley, are you in there?” Dennis’s voice was hushed and sounded worried.
“Just a sec.” Pulling herself to her feet, Ashley stared into her reflection. Her eyes had dark circles and the face staring back didn’t seem like it was her at all. She scrubbed at her hands with soap and hot water, the steam rising into the cool air-conditioned room.
She placed her well-crafted mask ‘I’m fine’ in place and opened the door. Well, at least it seemed like a well-crafted mask until Dennis’s eyes found her own.
“You and I need to have a conversation in my office. Now, please.”
“I’m fine, really.”
“Now.” Dennis didn’t wait for her, and she knew the jig was up. He held open his office door, and as soon as she crossed over the threshold and it clicked behind her, the mask tumbled. She bit her lip hard as Dennis walked around to face her and placed his hands on her shoulders.
“I’ve been married to a strong, stubborn woman long enough to know when I’m being lied to because she doesn’t want to tell me what’s wrong. So what is really going on, and no more ‘I’m fine.’”
Dennis had never felt more like an older brother than in that moment. She opened her mouth to speak, but only a tear-filled sob escaped.
“Come here, let it out.” He pulled her into a hug, and she let herself go, let someone else take the brunt for a few minutes.
She hated that Dennis saw through her and had to comfort her and she hated it even more that she wished Dennis was someone else, someone she swore she’d never think about again. And just like the twisted and crawling roses her mother loved, Kes was creeping back into her system, sticking to her mind and heart—but all the while the sharp thorns were just waiting to make her bleed.
Damn you, Kes Reynolds. Damn you.
Kes arrived at Ashley’s apartment just as the sun was setting and casting long shadows like fingers up and down the alley. He slipped inside the kitchen window as he had the night before to get a better look at her modest space. He needed to be quick to get back out before she got home.
Was he a stalker? It felt like he’d always been her stalker, but only because she stalked him first.
Her scent would linger in his nose or on his clothes if he got close to her. That shy smile coupled with her stunning lagoon-blue eyes made his heart hammer even when she wasn’t in the room. That sexy body she hated to show off had him hard with the slightest thought about touching her, and that was all before she opened her mouth. Her sharp mind and sense of humor always had him on his toes and reliving every interaction over and over again. She’d always been far smarter than he was.
It was disturbing to be so consumed with thoughts of another person like that. He’d tried so many times in so many different ways to put his temptress out of his mind, and nothing worked.
Kes picked up a fluffy pink sweater off the back of a chair in her sitting area and brought it to his nose. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She had always been his, and he’d made sure no other guy in school would dare go near her.
Now he had to find a way to make her give him another chance. He needed to make right what had been stolen from him. Folding the sweater, he laid it down and proceeded to slink around the apartment like a lonely ghost.
For the most part, everything screamed ‘single woman.’ All she needed was the cat to complete the feel. What was strange was how the space was lacking much of anything sentimental. He always knew her to be a family person. Other than a few pictures scattered around, the walls were blank and said very little about the woman he knew.
The small spare room was the only place that really felt like her. The walls were bright and cheery with a mural painted on the window side of the room. He wandered over to the stacks of paintings and sketches that were leaning against the wall and flipped through them, taking a moment to appreciate each one. Art was an expression of the soul, and staring at the various canvases was like getting a peek into hers. He paused as he came across one that was all flowers. Little roses mixed with daisies were the only flowers he could name, but the canvas was full and bright and made the corner of his mouth turn up.
Kes leaned all the art against the wall just the way he’d found it and set his sights on the closet.
He pulled on the long string hanging from the lone bulb in the spare bedroom closet and stared at the stacks of orderly boxes, each one labeled with a year. Following the dates, he found the year he was after and pulled it away from the rest. The top was simply folded together, and he opened it as eagerly as a child opening a birthday gift.
Laying right on top was the holy grail, their yearbook. Reaching in, he slowly lifted out the heavy book with its navy cover and gold writing, the logo of their private school embossed on the front. Cracking the cover open, he heard the spine groan in protest. There she was, front and center, the captain of the soccer team.
His finger traced her smiling face, her foot on the championship ball that had won them the state championship for the first time in school history. That night had been unseasonably cool. The wind had been up, the band loud, and the excitement in the stands electric. It has been as loud as any of his football games—it might even have been louder. He’d stood in the stands cheering like any other hungry fan, but what he’d done after the game, that he regretted.
