And have to endure a lot of squealing and giggling and then a long silence after I tell her that Ash is involved in fights.
“Ash? Asher Devlin? Are we talking about the same guy?” She tilts her head to the side, sending her blond locks spilling over her shoulder. “He hasn’t been into fights since the accident.”
“He is now.”
“Are you sure?”
“His lip was split. His jaw and ribs were bruised. And he didn’t deny it.”
“You sure it wasn’t his dad again?”
I bite my lip. “He’d have told me.” Wouldn’t he? And his knuckles were red and raw. No, he fought someone. “Why would he fight?”
“I don’t believe it.” Tessa frowns at the collection of bottles and glasses in front of her.
“What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t sound like Ash. Where is he now?”
“This morning he was still at Zane’s.”
“He was at Zane’s, huh?” She gives me a knowing look and a smirk.
Heat suffuses my face.
“Let me just call his cell and see if he’s done with whatever he’s doing and can join us for a drink.”
She rings up Ash, the light from the cell phone screen lighting up her face. Then she suddenly sits up straight. “Erin?”
The girl sharing Zane’s apartment? Why does she have Ash’s cell phone?
“He left the cell at your place?” Tessa taps her fingers on the bar. “You know when he’s coming back?” Her fingers still. “He’s gone? Has he said anything?”
“What do you mean, gone?” I whisper.
“But he’s coming back, right?” Tessa hunches over a little. “He took all his stuff? Are you sure?”
I blink.
“Thanks, Erin.” Tessa disconnects and places her cell on the bar.
“He must’ve gone back to his dad’s place,” I say.
“Yeah.” Tessa couldn’t sound any less convinced if she tried. “Erin arrived and he left. Typical.”
“What’s the connection?”
“Erin... She’s got some issues with the Devlin family. She doesn’t like having Ash there.”
I try to digest this. “Why?”
“Not sure. She dated Ash’s brother many years ago and obviously something bad happened that put her off the Devlins.”
“But if that was on Tyler, why would she hate Ash?”
“People often lump family members together, even if they aren’t to blame.” She raises a brow at me, and my face flames again, for a different reason this time.
I’ve done it. Why should I be shocked if Erin does it, too?
***
I hope Ash will call—from his dad’s house, or maybe he’ll return and get his cell from Zane’s. But nothing.
I try calling Zane’s apartment, but nobody answers. Erin’s probably out, and Zane hasn’t come back yet.
I find myself gnawing on a fingernail as I pace in my apartment. I feel like crying. How has it all gone bad? We haven’t had a fight. In fact, we made love. He made love to me. My first time, and it was amazing.
Ash was amazing. Everything was so perfect.
And now he’s vanished into thin air.
No, not thin air. I know where the house is: where mine used to be. I’ll go and confront him, talk to him in person, ask him why he can’t open up to me. What I have to do to make him trust me. Why the fighting and the secrecy.
I take the bus and get off at the stop down my old road. It feels so weird, standing here, years later. So many childhood memories. The little park where Tessa and I met after school to talk and play. Her aunt lived nearby and Tessa lived with her; her parents moved to Chicago when she was little.
Dylan would often join us, hiding from the other boys who made fun of him for playing with girls. Rafe would sometimes come over as well, and Zane, more rarely.
Then Ash’s family moved in. There’s the big tree in their garden where we’d climb up in summer and pretend we were on a desert island, looking out for ships to save us.
Ash loves water. He likes sitting in the parks, watching the boats and the open water. He can sit and gaze at the lakes for hours.
At least, he used to. No idea if he still does that now.
I walk past my old house, disturbed at the changes I can see. The porch is now painted a garish green, and the rose bushes have been cut. No curtains hang at the windows; they’re bare, like watching eyes.
Shivering, I hurry toward Ash’s house on the corner lot. I’m almost there when I notice the police car and the EMT truck sitting on the other side.
And the yellow tape.
I back away, though not before two policemen who’re cooling their heels outside the car see me and call for me to wait.
So I do, my heart racing. What the hell happened? Is Ash okay?
“Good day, miss.” The first officer has a goatee and an open, friendly face. “Couldn’t help noticing you were going to ring the bell. What brings you here?
My pulse races. “I used to live nearby. I was passing through the neighborhood and thought to pay a visit.”
The other man, clean-shaven and with what seems to be a chronic scowl, gives me a once over. “Why are you here? What’s your relationship with the Devlins?”
What’s this—the good cop/bad cop routine?
“What happened here?” I ask.
The good cop glances at the house. “Mr. Devlin was found dead this morning. Do you know anything about it?”
Black spots dance in front of my eyes. “Asher?”
“Jake Devlin.” His eyes narrow. “Do you know where Asher Devlin is?”
Relief swamps me, and I struggle not to let it show. Not Asher. He’s alive.
The bad cop takes a menacing step closer. “I asked if you know where Asher Devlin is.”
“I have no idea.” And it’s the truth.
“When did you last see him?”
“Yesterday. Yesterday morning.”
“How did he seem to you?”
God. “Normal. I guess.”
The other policeman frowns and rakes a hand through his short, grey hair. “Do you know if Asher and his father were on good terms? Do you know if Asher ever threatened him?”
Is he suggesting what I think he is? “No, Ash would never...” I struggle to pull myself together. “Asher is a good guy.”
But his dad beat him. What if Ash fought back? Could anyone blame him?
And yet the idea makes me sick.
“Isn’t it true Jake and Asher Devlin often fought?” the scowling policeman asks. “That Jake Devlin beat his son?”
I swallow hard. What if saying yes incriminates Ash? “I don’t know.”
“Fine. May I see some ID, please?”
With trembling fingers I draw it out of my purse and show it to him. He examines it and jots down my name and ID number.
“Well, Ms. Morrison, if you happen to see or talk to Asher Devlin, please let us know.” The less intimidating officer passes me a card with his name and number. Then the two of them turn and head back to the police car.
Leaving me alone and still in shock.
God, Ash... No matter what, it was his dad, the only parent he has left, and to be accused of his murder...
Just then my cell rings. Hoping it’s Ash, I pull it out of my purse.
It’s Zane. “Audrey, have you heard from Ash?”
Jesus. “No, I hoped you had.”
“The f**ker left, forgot his cell, and now the cops are calling on it, asking for him. Any idea why? They won’t say.”
“His dad is dead,” I say, the words painful.
“What the f**k? Since when?”
“No idea. I just went to his house and the police were there. They were asking me where Ash is. Told them I don’t know.”
“Fuck.” Zane sighs. “Tessa said you were spending more time with Ash. You really don’t know where to find him? No clue?”
“He’s been getting into fights. He talked about having to take care of something. It sounded iffy.”
“Fighting?” Zane sounds as shocked as Tessa has. “Ash? He hasn’t started a single fight since the accident.”
“He’s all bruised and stuff. You’re wrong, Zane.”
“Damn. Did he mention any place where he’s been hanging out? Anything at all?”
I try to think. “He mentioned a club. The Bulldog. Do you know it?”
“No, but the police will know. I’ll let you know what they say.”
“Sure.”
He disconnects and I’m left staring at the blank screen of my cell. I’ve reached the bus stop. Snowflakes swirl on the air.
God, I hope Ash is okay.
***
“The Bulldog,” Zane says, his voice strained, “is an illegal fight club. The cops are heading there now.”
“Illegal fight club.” I’m numb. I sit down on my sofa, the phone heavy in my hands.
“They think Ash might be fighting for money. He doesn’t fit the profile of people going there to lay bets.”
“For money. And you don’t sound too surprised.”
He huffs. “I wish he and I had talked more before I left for Christmas. I wish I’d made it clear he didn’t have to leave when Erin came back.”
“Zane... I’m missing something, right? Pieces of Ash’s life. Why would he do this—work at a fight club?”
“Because he can’t go back home. His dad almost killed him last time. I figure he thought it’s the only way to make enough to live on his own.”
A lump forms in my throat. “God, if I’d known... I’d have invited him to stay here.”
“You really care for him, don’t you?” Zane’s voice is soft.
“Yes.” The word comes out strangled. “Zane... The cops, they talked as if they think Ash might have killed his dad.”
“They’re f**king with you. Ash would never kill his dad. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did.”
I shake my head. “I guess.”
“But I would,” Zane whispers.
I’m not sure I heard him right. “What?”
“You wanna know the missing pieces in Ash’s life story? Have you seen the scars on his back? Do you know how long his dad, that piece of shit, has been hurting him? Fucking with Ash’s head, making him believe everything, every blow, is his fault. If Jake Devlin was in front of me right now, I’d kill him myself.”
Chapter Eighteen
Asher
I wake up to pounding on the door. It matches the pounding in my head. Where am I?
Slitting one eye—my only good eye—open, I take stock of the situation. I lie face-down on a hard mattress, drooling on a stained pillow. As I shift, various aches, some sharper and some duller, come to life all over my body. My jaw throbs, which explains the headache from hell, and the whole left side of my body burns with pain.
What the f**k happened? I can’t think straight.
The pounding on the door resumes and I groan, dropping my head back on the pillow. “What?”
“It’s midday. You need to vacate the room.”
“Really.” I sit up, grimacing as abused muscles stretch. “Shit.”
“You need to clear out—”
“Yeah, heard you the first time. Give me five minutes.” I swing my legs off the bed and stare at them. I’m still wearing my combat boots. I slept fully dressed. “I thought check-out at midday was a hotel kinda thing.”
The room is a dank, cold hole with mold stains on walls that used to be white. The carpet has cigarette burns and brown spots that look suspiciously like blood. Is it mine?
The left side of my face feels oddly heavy. I touch my fingers to it and find it covered in dried blood.
“Ash? Asher Devlin? Are we talking about the same guy?” She tilts her head to the side, sending her blond locks spilling over her shoulder. “He hasn’t been into fights since the accident.”
“He is now.”
“Are you sure?”
“His lip was split. His jaw and ribs were bruised. And he didn’t deny it.”
“You sure it wasn’t his dad again?”
I bite my lip. “He’d have told me.” Wouldn’t he? And his knuckles were red and raw. No, he fought someone. “Why would he fight?”
“I don’t believe it.” Tessa frowns at the collection of bottles and glasses in front of her.
“What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t sound like Ash. Where is he now?”
“This morning he was still at Zane’s.”
“He was at Zane’s, huh?” She gives me a knowing look and a smirk.
Heat suffuses my face.
“Let me just call his cell and see if he’s done with whatever he’s doing and can join us for a drink.”
She rings up Ash, the light from the cell phone screen lighting up her face. Then she suddenly sits up straight. “Erin?”
The girl sharing Zane’s apartment? Why does she have Ash’s cell phone?
“He left the cell at your place?” Tessa taps her fingers on the bar. “You know when he’s coming back?” Her fingers still. “He’s gone? Has he said anything?”
“What do you mean, gone?” I whisper.
“But he’s coming back, right?” Tessa hunches over a little. “He took all his stuff? Are you sure?”
I blink.
“Thanks, Erin.” Tessa disconnects and places her cell on the bar.
“He must’ve gone back to his dad’s place,” I say.
“Yeah.” Tessa couldn’t sound any less convinced if she tried. “Erin arrived and he left. Typical.”
“What’s the connection?”
“Erin... She’s got some issues with the Devlin family. She doesn’t like having Ash there.”
I try to digest this. “Why?”
“Not sure. She dated Ash’s brother many years ago and obviously something bad happened that put her off the Devlins.”
“But if that was on Tyler, why would she hate Ash?”
“People often lump family members together, even if they aren’t to blame.” She raises a brow at me, and my face flames again, for a different reason this time.
I’ve done it. Why should I be shocked if Erin does it, too?
***
I hope Ash will call—from his dad’s house, or maybe he’ll return and get his cell from Zane’s. But nothing.
I try calling Zane’s apartment, but nobody answers. Erin’s probably out, and Zane hasn’t come back yet.
I find myself gnawing on a fingernail as I pace in my apartment. I feel like crying. How has it all gone bad? We haven’t had a fight. In fact, we made love. He made love to me. My first time, and it was amazing.
Ash was amazing. Everything was so perfect.
And now he’s vanished into thin air.
No, not thin air. I know where the house is: where mine used to be. I’ll go and confront him, talk to him in person, ask him why he can’t open up to me. What I have to do to make him trust me. Why the fighting and the secrecy.
I take the bus and get off at the stop down my old road. It feels so weird, standing here, years later. So many childhood memories. The little park where Tessa and I met after school to talk and play. Her aunt lived nearby and Tessa lived with her; her parents moved to Chicago when she was little.
Dylan would often join us, hiding from the other boys who made fun of him for playing with girls. Rafe would sometimes come over as well, and Zane, more rarely.
Then Ash’s family moved in. There’s the big tree in their garden where we’d climb up in summer and pretend we were on a desert island, looking out for ships to save us.
Ash loves water. He likes sitting in the parks, watching the boats and the open water. He can sit and gaze at the lakes for hours.
At least, he used to. No idea if he still does that now.
I walk past my old house, disturbed at the changes I can see. The porch is now painted a garish green, and the rose bushes have been cut. No curtains hang at the windows; they’re bare, like watching eyes.
Shivering, I hurry toward Ash’s house on the corner lot. I’m almost there when I notice the police car and the EMT truck sitting on the other side.
And the yellow tape.
I back away, though not before two policemen who’re cooling their heels outside the car see me and call for me to wait.
So I do, my heart racing. What the hell happened? Is Ash okay?
“Good day, miss.” The first officer has a goatee and an open, friendly face. “Couldn’t help noticing you were going to ring the bell. What brings you here?
My pulse races. “I used to live nearby. I was passing through the neighborhood and thought to pay a visit.”
The other man, clean-shaven and with what seems to be a chronic scowl, gives me a once over. “Why are you here? What’s your relationship with the Devlins?”
What’s this—the good cop/bad cop routine?
“What happened here?” I ask.
The good cop glances at the house. “Mr. Devlin was found dead this morning. Do you know anything about it?”
Black spots dance in front of my eyes. “Asher?”
“Jake Devlin.” His eyes narrow. “Do you know where Asher Devlin is?”
Relief swamps me, and I struggle not to let it show. Not Asher. He’s alive.
The bad cop takes a menacing step closer. “I asked if you know where Asher Devlin is.”
“I have no idea.” And it’s the truth.
“When did you last see him?”
“Yesterday. Yesterday morning.”
“How did he seem to you?”
God. “Normal. I guess.”
The other policeman frowns and rakes a hand through his short, grey hair. “Do you know if Asher and his father were on good terms? Do you know if Asher ever threatened him?”
Is he suggesting what I think he is? “No, Ash would never...” I struggle to pull myself together. “Asher is a good guy.”
But his dad beat him. What if Ash fought back? Could anyone blame him?
And yet the idea makes me sick.
“Isn’t it true Jake and Asher Devlin often fought?” the scowling policeman asks. “That Jake Devlin beat his son?”
I swallow hard. What if saying yes incriminates Ash? “I don’t know.”
“Fine. May I see some ID, please?”
With trembling fingers I draw it out of my purse and show it to him. He examines it and jots down my name and ID number.
“Well, Ms. Morrison, if you happen to see or talk to Asher Devlin, please let us know.” The less intimidating officer passes me a card with his name and number. Then the two of them turn and head back to the police car.
Leaving me alone and still in shock.
God, Ash... No matter what, it was his dad, the only parent he has left, and to be accused of his murder...
Just then my cell rings. Hoping it’s Ash, I pull it out of my purse.
It’s Zane. “Audrey, have you heard from Ash?”
Jesus. “No, I hoped you had.”
“The f**ker left, forgot his cell, and now the cops are calling on it, asking for him. Any idea why? They won’t say.”
“His dad is dead,” I say, the words painful.
“What the f**k? Since when?”
“No idea. I just went to his house and the police were there. They were asking me where Ash is. Told them I don’t know.”
“Fuck.” Zane sighs. “Tessa said you were spending more time with Ash. You really don’t know where to find him? No clue?”
“He’s been getting into fights. He talked about having to take care of something. It sounded iffy.”
“Fighting?” Zane sounds as shocked as Tessa has. “Ash? He hasn’t started a single fight since the accident.”
“He’s all bruised and stuff. You’re wrong, Zane.”
“Damn. Did he mention any place where he’s been hanging out? Anything at all?”
I try to think. “He mentioned a club. The Bulldog. Do you know it?”
“No, but the police will know. I’ll let you know what they say.”
“Sure.”
He disconnects and I’m left staring at the blank screen of my cell. I’ve reached the bus stop. Snowflakes swirl on the air.
God, I hope Ash is okay.
***
“The Bulldog,” Zane says, his voice strained, “is an illegal fight club. The cops are heading there now.”
“Illegal fight club.” I’m numb. I sit down on my sofa, the phone heavy in my hands.
“They think Ash might be fighting for money. He doesn’t fit the profile of people going there to lay bets.”
“For money. And you don’t sound too surprised.”
He huffs. “I wish he and I had talked more before I left for Christmas. I wish I’d made it clear he didn’t have to leave when Erin came back.”
“Zane... I’m missing something, right? Pieces of Ash’s life. Why would he do this—work at a fight club?”
“Because he can’t go back home. His dad almost killed him last time. I figure he thought it’s the only way to make enough to live on his own.”
A lump forms in my throat. “God, if I’d known... I’d have invited him to stay here.”
“You really care for him, don’t you?” Zane’s voice is soft.
“Yes.” The word comes out strangled. “Zane... The cops, they talked as if they think Ash might have killed his dad.”
“They’re f**king with you. Ash would never kill his dad. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did.”
I shake my head. “I guess.”
“But I would,” Zane whispers.
I’m not sure I heard him right. “What?”
“You wanna know the missing pieces in Ash’s life story? Have you seen the scars on his back? Do you know how long his dad, that piece of shit, has been hurting him? Fucking with Ash’s head, making him believe everything, every blow, is his fault. If Jake Devlin was in front of me right now, I’d kill him myself.”
Chapter Eighteen
Asher
I wake up to pounding on the door. It matches the pounding in my head. Where am I?
Slitting one eye—my only good eye—open, I take stock of the situation. I lie face-down on a hard mattress, drooling on a stained pillow. As I shift, various aches, some sharper and some duller, come to life all over my body. My jaw throbs, which explains the headache from hell, and the whole left side of my body burns with pain.
What the f**k happened? I can’t think straight.
The pounding on the door resumes and I groan, dropping my head back on the pillow. “What?”
“It’s midday. You need to vacate the room.”
“Really.” I sit up, grimacing as abused muscles stretch. “Shit.”
“You need to clear out—”
“Yeah, heard you the first time. Give me five minutes.” I swing my legs off the bed and stare at them. I’m still wearing my combat boots. I slept fully dressed. “I thought check-out at midday was a hotel kinda thing.”
The room is a dank, cold hole with mold stains on walls that used to be white. The carpet has cigarette burns and brown spots that look suspiciously like blood. Is it mine?
The left side of my face feels oddly heavy. I touch my fingers to it and find it covered in dried blood.
