It’s been over a decade since I sent her that specific letter. The one that shut down every single lie she had been feeding me out of what I assume to be pity. Or fuck, maybe some twisteddefinition of appreciation for what had me behind bars in the first place.
She can try and pretend like it was me who broke her heart, but we both know that isn’t true. If she had been honest about the words she wrote in those letters in the first place, she would have replied to the one I sent two months later.
Instead, she ran away, fell in love, and got married, leaving me convinced that I was nothing but a game to her. And for the last time, I’d let her win.
Ash’s facepales a shade when he sees me slam the truck door and head right for him.
The community centre stands behind him, its outdated exterior chipped and discoloured. There’s a sprinkler running on the opposite side to where he stands, as if water will help grass that dead. Only time will bring it back to life, but that’s Ash for you. Desperately wishful when it comes to fixing things that don’t want to be fixed.
“Okay, so you’re not happy to have my sister working there,” he says, attempting to sound lighthearted.
I bury my fist in my pocket to avoid hitting him. “You couldn’t have given me a fucking heads-up?”
“She’s not going to bother you. You two despise each other enough that you’ll never even have to see one another much.”
“I could have pulled strings and got her a job somewhere else,” I argue sharply.
“She’s gotta stay close. Our mom’s so happy to have her home, I couldn’t send her somewhere else.” Ash glances back at the community centre, jabbing a thumb at the door. “Let’s go inside and talk.”
I don’t move. “How long is she staying?”
“You didn’t ask her?” he asks with a sigh.
“How long?”
“My best guess? However long she wants to. Honestly, what’s the big deal? It’s been years, Rowe.”
“You don’t get to decide how many years is enough for me.”
He winces, guilt pooling in his eyes. “You’re right. I didn’t think you still thought about that night much.”
His guilt becomes mine when I remind myself that he doesn’t know the whole story. For good reason, I never blabbed about the letters, and clearly, Tilly didn’t either. There was never reason to, considering nothing ever came from them unless you’re counting my desperate desire to make her pay for the rage and betrayal I felt when I got out of prison.
To everyone but us, the reason I don’t want to speak about her is because it reminds me of the night my life changed and I came one punch too close to committing murder.
“I’ll always think about it, Ash. I can’t forget,” I say tightly, my clothes suddenly too scratchy where they sit on my body.
“I’m sorry, alright? What do you want me to do?”
“Isn’t anything for you to do now. She’s already on the payroll.”
He pauses, tonguing his cheek. “It was your mother’s idea to have her live there. Nobody else wanted her to.”
My frustration depletes little by little. Ash is the good twin. The calmness to Tilly’s rage and the kindness to the venom she coats her teeth in. God fucking knows why we’re as close as we are or how we stayed like it over the years, but there’s no changing it by now. We’re both too far into this friendship to let it go.
I know he didn’t get her a job at the ranch to piss me off.
“You got beer inside?”
He lets loose a long exhale. “Of course I do.”
I jerk my head in a nod and follow him across the wet dirt. It’s not quite mud, but close enough to have my boots sinking a bit. He ignores the squelch beneath his sneakers and then smacks them onto the sidewalk before tugging the door open.
Inside, I ignore the muggy scent of sweat and mildew. There’s nothing to write home about in here. No ice rink or swimming pool. The small gymnasium is tucked along the back beside his office and a front desk that almost always sits empty.
I don’t know how the place is still running or how he convinced the municipality to let him start a softball team last year. The baseball diamond out back is in even worse shape than this building is.
“For what it’s worth, I think having her here could be healing,” he says when we reach the door to his office.
