Ashton’s throat moves again. “We used to get that a lot,” he answers, voice cautious.
Used to.
But not anymore.
He gestures toward one of the stools at the counter. “Would you like to sit? I’ll answer any questions you have. Tom said you wanted to speak to me.”
I don’t know why, but my eyes go over his shoulder to where Thomas stands silently just outside the kitchen. He nods once, encouraging me to say what I need to.
So, I find myself sitting down and doing my best not to fidget with my hands or squirm on the stool. If Kourtney were here, she’d be stick-straight and glaring at Ashton to death.
Once again, my eyes dart to Thomas for a microsecond before returning to Ashton’s face as he searches for the right words. He knows apologizing isn’t going to help. What is he sorry for that would make a difference?
I swallow, reaching into my pocket and unfolding the scholarship award letter before sliding it over to where he stands on the other side of the counter. As soon as he sees the letterhead, he closes his eyes.
The only thing I ask is, “Why?”
I hear the creak of the floorboard by the kitchen, and see Thomas shift as if to see what I showed Ashton. From his vantage point, he has no idea what this is. And that’s probably for the better. Because if he knew, then I wouldn’t believe him at all when he said he got me.
Ashton lets out a small breath before picking up the paper. He doesn’t need to scan it because he knows exactly what it says. Which tells me what I already knew. This isn’t a coincidence. “I watched my brother ruin a lot of people’s lives because he wasn’t learning from his mistakes. I’m as guilty of looking the other way as my parents were, and it led him down a path he can’t come back from.”
I don’t say anything because I can tell he’s far from finished. So, I sit on my hands and hold my breath as my heartthumpshard in my chest.
Ashton sets the paper down. “I don’t want to be like Adam. I want to make a difference. To help people. Not just rich clientele or people Adam harmed, but people in the community who need the extra assistance.” His hand flattens on the piece of paper. “My mother, Marjorie, has always been the same way. She’s been a part of various foundations and charities that have bettered thecommunity. Her work in the education field primarily focused on Greenwich, where I was born. We were well off, and my mother wanted to use some of our fortune to help those less fortunate. So, she started a foundation called the Marjorie D. Essen Grant, which awarded students scholarships to help pay for their education. She’s given out millions of dollars over the years to people who want to better their lives with a college degree.”
“So this grant already existed before…?”
Before Adam killed my parents.
Before I received the money.
He dips his chin once in confirmation. “It’d been around for at least a decade before the accident. After my brother went to jail, her personal involvement…waned. I took over to make sure Adam’s mess didn’t impact more people than it needed to. She cares deeply about people, and the fact that she could raise someone who was so careless hurt her in ways I’m not sure I even fully understand.”
I shake my head, staring at the paper and not the man explaining himself. I can’t. If I look up at him, all I’ll see is Adam. “Did you hand select me to receive the scholarship for college? Did you do the same for my sister?”
There’s no hesitation. “Yes.” But that answer comes with an explanation that isn’t hurried or shameful. “But it wasn’t money to silence anybody or heal the wounds Adam caused. I knew better than to think that was possible. My mother’s foundation is supposed to encourage people to get a higher education and chase their dreams. You and Kourtney fit that perfectly. Neither one of you was going to let my brother stop you from bettering your lives. You could have, but you didn’t. So, I reached out to your school to make sure your names were both on the list of recipients.”
A sour feeling enters my stomach and curdles there. “You may not think it’s blood money, but it may as well have been.”
He opens his mouth as if to argue, but a throat clears from the hall that Thomas stands in. I glance in his direction to see him staring harshly at his agent. This is all news to him.
Ashton sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and nodding. “I understand why you think that, and I’m sorry for intruding. I only wanted to help you. My parents may have chosen to avoid the past we were all intertwined with, but I wasn’t going to do that.”
I scoff. “You changed your name to associate it with something positive.”
His eyes sadden. “You’re right,” he agrees. “I did do that. And perhaps the reason was selfish. I was young and wanted to make a name for myself and refused to let Adam drag me down.”
“Like he did us?” I question.
This time, he doesn’t reply.
I take a deep breath and press my thighs into the hands I’m still sitting on. “What else?” I ask, afraid of the answer. “Did you do anything else to get me where I am? Because you’re right. I wasn’t going to let Adam take away my ability to live just because he did that to my mom and dad. Kourtney made sure we would be better than him. We were going to make our parents proud. And if you did anything to get me there, it’ll feel like—” My voice cracks, and I hate the weakness in it. I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly to ease the tension in my lungs. “It will feel like I cheated to get there. Like I didn’t earn this.”
The room is quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerator behind Ashton. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear little feet pitter-pattering around. Oreo.
But that’s it.
I finally meet Ashton’s eyes, not allowing myself to be afraid. “Tell me.”
