When I return to the waiting room, Ash is sitting in the same chair, watching cars pass on the street out front like she’s been doing most of the night.
“I’ll take you home. You ready?” I ask.
She nods, and I grab her hand, leading her to the parking lot. I open the passenger door and watch as she climbs in.
It all seems so familiar—like in a different universe, we do this all the time. Maybe there weren’t so many obstacles, and those kids figured it out.
We drive in silence. I’m not sure she’s paying attention because she’s been staring blankly out the window, but she perks up when I make a right in the opposite direction of Gran’s house.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“Dee’s. You have to be starving.”
Nothing else would be open this late anyway, but forwhat it’s worth, Dee’s was always her favorite. There’s little that fries and a strawberry shake can’t fix for Ash. The hint of a smile graces her lips.
I park in an empty spot and jump out.
When I come back with a bag and two cups in my arms, she turns in the seat to face me.
I hold out a shake. “You okay?”
“Uh-huh,” she says, her gray eyes looking through me instead of at me.
I wish there were more I could do than buy her a goddamn milkshake.
She sips on the shake and picks at the fries on the way home but doesn’t say another word even as we pull up at Gran’s.
Halfway up the porch, Ash freezes, eyes fixed on the front door. I take her keys from her and unlock the door.
She emotionlessly stares into the living room but doesn’t budge from the porch. “I thought I was gonna watch my brother die in this house tonight.”
Those words slice a hole straight through my gut, but I swallow it down. “I know, but he didn’t. Thanks to you.”
She finally walks into the house, leaving me to stand in the doorway unsure what to do. I don’t want to leave her here like this, but she’s not mine, and staying with her feels like crossing the thin line we’ve been walking all night.
Like stepping into a role that isn’t mine and hasn’t been in a long time.
Except maybe thisismy purpose in her life. To be here when she needs me and then fade into the background when it’s over.
I step back out to the porch to leave when she whispers, “We can still go back to hating each other tomorrow, but please don’t leave tonight.”
I could never hate you.
My feet turn around, my hands shutting the door behind me of their own accord. If she wants me here, that’s exactly where I’ll be.
She starts to sit on the couch when her eyes catch on the vomit still splattered on the floor.
“I got it.” Getting a towel from the kitchen, I quickly clean up the mess.
When I finish and wash my hands, I find her curled up in a blanket on the far end of the couch like she can’t bring herself to sit where he was at. She pats the cushion, so I drop next to her, and she lies on my chest like it’s where she belongs, and I can’t stop myself from thinking maybe it is.
Or maybe I’m just a masochist, who desperately wants it to be because I know this is going to hurt, and yet, here I am anyway.
22
ASH
MAY PRESENT DAY
