“You wanna fix this?” I laughed bitterly. “Get me a time machine. Or better yet, use some of your stupid moneyto find her.”
“I already am. I hired a private investigator the day it happened.”
I fell back a step, shocked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Ford looked at the floor nervously.
I rolled my eyes. “I know why. Because you were waiting until they found something so you could come swooping in like the hero.”
The guilt on his face told me I’d hit the nail on the head.
“What have they found so far?” I asked.
He shook his head, his lips pursed in a bloodless line. The disappointment was like a sucker punch to the kidneys. If a private detective couldn’t find anything, there was no way my late night Google investigations would. And I’d spent every evening scouring through court cases in Oregon, trying to get any information I could find. Holden had used all of his resources too, but the cases were sealed. No one at the FBI cared that Holden was the District Attorney in Seddledowne. We hadn’t even gotten a call back. So we had nothing to go on. Not a single breadcrumb.
I glared Ford down until he finally stepped out of my way. Then I strode out of the closet, through the bedroom, and into the hall.
“Let him go,” Mom said to Ford. “Let me talk to him.” Her footsteps were right behind me.
“I don’t want to talk.” I jogged down the stairs. “I’m not living with him. I can’t believe this is even a concern of yours.”
“Ashton,” Mom said as we came through the front door and out into the annoyingly, sticky-hot Seddledowne air. She raced around me and grabbed my shoulders. “Ashton,” she said again, her forehead furrowed as tight as I’d ever seen it. She looked like she’d aged ten years in the last week. Mom had always seemed young for her age. Her hair was thick and blonde, slightly streaked with grays. But now, there were newlines around her eyes and everything seemed to sag. Exactly how I felt.
Her blue eyes—my eyes—bore into me, so sad. “I don’t think you have any idea how hard it is to be Ford Dupree.”
I snorted. “So hard having millions of dollars and fans who would sell a kidney to meet you for ten seconds.”
She shook my shoulders. “I’m not talking about Ford Dupree of Whiskey and Women.” Her eyes were wide and censuring. Mom hated Ford’s band and everything they stood for. Not the music, just the morals. “I’m talking about Ford Dupree, younger brother of Silas who earned a roping scholarship and won Wyoming’s Teacher of the Year. Younger brother of Holden, who was a collegiate bound athlete before he gave it up for a career to prosecute criminals and give a voice to victims.” I straightened, waiting for my turn. Because the scathing look she was giving me did not make me think that whatever she had to say was going to be kind. “Baby brother of Ashton, the ultimate peacemaker, the one who’s always dependable. Who never disrespects his family with his words or behavior, and who never loses his cool. Who’s smart, and funny, and strong, and handsome, and can make friends with anyone. Who unabashedly loves books and literature quotes but who can also jam a cowboy hat on his head and ride a horse like he’s outrunning a tornado.” She squeezed my shoulders. “You have a confidence that Ford never had. He’s all hot air and exaggeration. We all know that. But you might want to ask yourself why?"
My cheeks burned with shame.
“He would do anything for you to accept him. To be his friend. He’s wanted that his whole life.”
I knew she was right. He’d followed me everywhere I went as a kid, and he plagued me as an adult. Not a day went by without him texting, calling, or sending memes, trying to make me laugh.
I took a beat and said with much less bluster than a moment ago, “I can’t do it right now, Mom. I’m out of my mind without her, okay?”
“I know. But he wouldn’t have done what he did if he’d known. Can you at least admit that?”
I stared at her but I couldn’t make the words come.
She sighed, took the box from me, and set it in the bed of my truck. Then she pulled me into a hug. “You’re going to get over this, Ashton.”
“No, I won’t,” I said sharply. “She wasitfor me. If she’s gone for good, I’m done.”
“Don’t say that.” Her tone was pain-soaked. She gripped my shoulders, scowling with determination.
“I’m never doing this again. Do you have any idea how this feels? To give someone my heart and then have them vanish?” I scrubbed a hand over my face and blinked back the tears that were never far away.
Mom’s lips trembled. She always recited the quote, “You’re only as happy as your saddest child.” And I knew it was true. Maybe she could be overwhelming and intrusive, but she was a good mom. She loved us with everything she had.
I pulled her against me and told the biggest lie of my life. “I’ll be okay, Mom. Whatever happens, I’ll be okay.”
When I stepped back a moment later, she looked a little better. She smoothed her hair. “We’re all going to James’s youth league football scrimmage over in Highland. You should come with us.”
“No. I need to finishSwoon. Our readers are expecting the final chapter tomorrow.” I squeezed her arm. “Writing always makes me happy.” But I was certain nothing, not even my favorite pastime, had the power to chase the ache away.
She waited while I got into my truck and waved as I drove away.
