“Yeah, well, anyway, was that sufficient?”
“Sufficient?”
“Are you aftercared enough? Or do you need me to rock you to sleep?”
I let out a hoarse chuckle. “It was enough. Thank you for indulging me.”
“Sure.”
Allie pulls herself up, wiping imaginary dust off her skirt.
As I glance up at her, I realize she never ceases to amaze me.She may be as tough as they come, but she sat with me when I needed her to, and that’s progress.
Now I know, hidden deep within the mile-high walls she’s built around it, she does have a beating heart. Maybe someday, it could beat for me.
18
ASHTON
“Where are we going?”she asks, looking up as I speed down the dark road, splashes of light from the moon reflecting off the damp trees. It must have rained a little earlier when we were at the gala. One of those brief summer showers.
“My favorite place,” I answer.
She returns her head to lean against the window as I pull into the sandy parking lot. I run around and open the door for her, and when I do, she blinks up at me, her mascara still streaked against her pink cheeks. I offer her my hand, and she takes it.
“I look like a train wreck,” she murmurs.
“You don’t,” I answer simply. I don’t know what possesses me, but I lick my thumb and apply it to her cheeks, wiping the blackness away. Her mouth is wide open by the time I’m done, but she doesn’t say anything.
We walk to the edge of the lot and down the path that leads to the beach. Driscoll’s Beach is the one place in the county where students from Emberfield High and Baybridge Prep come together in relative peace. Everywhere else, the rivalry stands. Playing fields, restaurants, hiking paths, private homes. Butneither school was willing to give up this perfect spot, and no one wanted to risk losing it in an all-out war, so it became a neutral area. Of course, there were still fights. Some guy from Baybridge flirting with someone’s girl from Emberfield, so on and so forth. For the most part, we just came out here to get a break from all the pressure. We would build bonfires, drink whatever we could get our hands on, smoke weed, andforget.
Allie didn’t go to either school. From what I’ve heard, the kids from Rocky Falls would go to a lake closer to their town for all of their teenage debauchery.
As we walk closer to the shore, I see several fires already going. Plastic solo cups dance in the night, liquid sloshing over the sides as bodies sway to the music pouring out of a speaker that’s made to resemble a vintage radio. Some people are sitting on the ground. Some are sitting in folding chairs or on rocks.
“Stay here,” I tell Allie as I approach a guy smoking a joint at the edge of one of the fires. He’s standing by a pile of wood. I ask him if I can grab some, and he looks from me to the woman standing off to the side, clearly waiting for me. He chuckles. “For sure, man.” He gives me a knowing look as he hooks me up with some wood and kindling.
“Have fun!” he calls as I carry it over toward Allie. We walk further down the beach, find a secluded area far from the other people, and I get to work building the fire. I dig a hole in the sand with my hands and place the kindling in the center, stacking the wood around it. I step back and admire my work, but then it hits me. I forgot to ask that guy for a lighter.
I hear a click and look up to see Allie holding a pink lighter.
I didn’t know she smoked.
“I don’t smoke.” She shrugs. “You never know when you might need one.”
My lips spread wide. Why do the littlest things this girl does make my stomach flip? I take it from her and light the fire. Then I take off my jacket and set it on the ground for her to sit on, whileI sit directly on the sand. I rest my arms over my knees as I take in the scent of wood fire and salty air, looking out at the moonlit water. That’s when I hear it. The muffled cries. Her eyes are shining, tears dripping down to her chin.
“Ashton, it hurts,” she whimpers.
The ding from my phone pulls me from my memories. I rub the ache from my eyes and take a sip of my fourth cup of coffee. Forty-seven minutes. That’s how much sleep I got last night, according to the ring my parents gifted me and my siblings this past Christmas. It’s one of those smart rings that measures biometric data, including sleep. Every year, they give us all the same gift. They don’t put any thought into it. In fact, I’m sure they have one of their assistants pick something out. Even if they did put the effort in, they wouldn’t know where to start. They barely know anything about any of us. They know Tray is good with numbers and hitting the bottom line, but they don’t know he’s been practicing judo for the past couple of years and just made it to black belt. That the practice has taught him to rely less on devices and more on his spiritual instincts. They care that Cassie did what she was told and got married and knocked up before she could even go to college. But they have no idea that she takes in strays from the pound and works tirelessly to find them good homes. Or that she despises new technology to the point that she has a flip phone.
And me? All they know is that I’m a disappointment. The second son. The middle child. A joke. Their impersonal present did come in handy last night, though. It told me exactly how many minutes I wasn’t thinking about what happened with Allie.
Forty-seven.
I’ve been vacillating between thinking about last night and that night at the beach.
We held hands until she got antsy and declared her aftercare commitment to be fulfilled, but she did let me walk her to her car. Craig wasn’t hiding in the shadows. He was probably homeicing his balls…and his ego. I still haven’t decided what to do about him. Pepper spray and a knee to the groin are not a walk in the park, but it’s also not enough of a punishment for attempting to sexually assault someone. He deserves worse. Not to mention, he may not have taken my threat seriously. He still might try to come after Allie, and I’m not going to let that happen.
