Her anger may be pointed at me right now, but I know it’s not me she’s pissed at. It’s Ashton. Adam. The world. So, I brush off the hostility in her tone—the accusation behind it. “Ashton made it sound like he knew you,” I admit, watching her nostrils flare with irritation. “But he never said how, and you didn’t seem to recognize the name.”
Winter’s teeth grind. “Because the bastard obviously changed his name.”
Ashton mentioned taking his mother’s maiden name after his brother was charged because he was starting to get traction in his career. According to him, he didn’t want his name to be attached to something as gruesome as a hit and run when he was supposed to be representing well-known people.
From a business standpoint, I get it. He didn’t want anyone digging into him and learning what his brother had done. There are repercussions that could impact his clientele, so he had to protect his reputation. But the second Winter was involved, he should have backed away. He should have owned up to the things he was holding back.
I don’t tell Winter that I’m sorry about her parents, because what good would that do? They’re gone. My condolences aren’t going to bring them back or rid her of the trauma.
“I thought he was…” Her words trail off as she shakes her head again, closing her eyes. “I thought he was Adam. I thought he changed his name and came back to taunt me. It wasn’t until Kourtney called our lawyer to confirm that Adam was in jail that I realized how ridiculous that sounded.”
“It’s not,” I reassure. “They’re twins. You couldn’t have known that.”
“I went to the trial,” she reminds me dryly. “I saw his family. I should have known. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”
Why is she blaming herself? “Ashton shouldn’t have bulldozed you with this. He knew who you were and should have gone somewhere else for our business. I don’t know why he chose not to. He’s great at his job, so I went with whatever he recommended. I should have done my own research.”
All she does is lift her shoulders, as if words are beyond her capability right now.
“Your parents’ death is the reason you’re so close with the community, isn’t it?” I guess I now understand why so many people are fond of her.
She wets her lips, nodding as she looks away from me and blinks back tears. “Kourtney had to raise me. She was barely an adult herself. She was in college, working toward a degree, when she suddenly had a distraught teenager to look after. There are times I wish she had just let our aunt and uncle take me in, even if it meant moving. But she was determined to keep me here, where our parents always wanted us to grow up. So, I stayed. I graduated from high school, went to the local community college, and babysat to help her cover bills and schoolbooks. We made it through all the traumas and tribulations. We managed to survive somehow.
“And after a while, I stopped thinking about what happened to my mom and dad. Kourt said it was important to focus on all the good times we had instead. She didn’t want me to obsess over them being gone or the man responsible for it. She thought it was more beneficial to show our parents that we could make something of ourselves despite what happened. So she put us both through therapy using some of the money we were givenfrom the will, then she became a teacher like she always wanted to, got married, and had a child. And I…”
Winter pauses, her lips twitching downward for a moment. “And I’m here. In an apartment I can barely afford, with a pantry that’s never stocked outside of ramen noodles, and working my first real job that’s blowing up in my face. Compared to her, I have no idea what I’m doing.”
I shake my head. “This whole thing may be a setback, but that doesn’t mean it’s exploded.”
She deadpans, “The brother of the man who killed my family showed up in my life as the agent to my first client. Fairbanks is a small city, but notthatsmall. This is fate bitch slapping me in the face. I stormed out of a meeting and left work like a baby.”
“Winter—”
“And don’t get me started on all the lines I’ve crossed withyou,” she goes on, dropping her head back on the couch and staring up at the ceiling. “I’m not like this. I don’t run away from things. I don’t sleep around. I don’t involve myself with my clients no matter how—” she cuts herself off, her face blooming with red.
One of my eyebrows quirks up. “What?”
She shakes her head, pressing her lips together in a thin line and massaging her temples like she has a headache.
But I’m not ready to let this go. I rise up and sit on the edge of the cushion beside her. “You and your sister didn’t deserve the hand you were dealt, Winter. Nobody deserves that. Anybody in your position would have reacted the same way if they had seen Ashton and been brought back to the worst time in their lives. Would you call them babies? Tell them they were weak? That they should have reacted differently?”
She frowns. “No. Of course not.”
“Exactly.” I move her chin over to make her look at me. “Ashton knew better. He knew who you were and didn’t removehimself from this situation. It was only a matter of time before you two crossed paths, and I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry that I brought this on to you. But I’m not sorry for whateverthisis between us. I’m not sorry for enjoying how we banter. And I’m sure as fuck not sorry for knowing what you look like when you come. If that makes me a terrible person, then so be it. I’ve been labeled worse.”
The red in her cheeks grows darker. “What does that makemethen?”
I shrug nonchalantly. “Human.”
She stares at me, her glassy eyes scanning my face. I don’t know what’s going through her mind when she draws her bottom lip into her mouth and bites down on it with her top front teeth.
Sitting this close to her, I smell fresh dirt and chopped grass. “Where did you go?” I ask, brushing at the spot. Any excuse to touch her, I’ll take.
Winter releases her lip. “When I’m upset and don’t know what to do, I go to my parents. I sit in front of their graves and talk. Sometimes about everything, sometimes about nothing. At least until my chest feels less full.”
Tension coils in my shoulders as I offer up a piece of information I don’t talk to anybody about. “My parents were not good people. They shouldn’t have had me. Their lives were a mess before my mother got pregnant, and it only got three times worse after I was born. Their biggest regret wasn’t getting addicted to painkillers and methamphetamine, it was having a kid.”
Winter stares at me, slack-jawed.
