Chapter 23: Ashton

twenty-three

ASHTON

If only I had spoken to him more kindly, perhaps then he would not have felt so estranged from me.

— EMILY brONT?

E leven torturous days later, with no word from Tally and no trail of whereabouts to follow, I widened my arms as I scooped my entire drawer full of clothes into a box.

“Don’t go,” Ford said. “C’mom, man. You can’t actually want to live in the little house alone.” His eyes were red again. They had been ever since the beach. Honestly, it pissed me off. How dare he get to dull his pain when I had nothing to dull mine.

“Please…stop.” I clenched my fist and forced myself to stay calm. “I can’t stay here. I was moving after the wedding anyway.” I glanced over at Mom who was helping me move my remaining stuff out of Ford’s house. She’d cried more than me since Tally left. “Can you get him out of here?” It came out terse but it was the best I could do for anyone, much less Ford. I was trying but I was in a minute to minute battle with a deep, dark rage, the likes of which I’d never felt before. It took all my willpower not to snap when I was by myself. If Ford kept pushing me, I was going to do something I couldn’t take back.

Mom nodded and wiped yet another tear. She stood and walked over to Ford. “Let’s go. Leave him be.”

“No.” He pushed past her, knelt in front of me, and spread his arms across the rest of the drawers so I couldn’t get to them. “No. You’re not going. I’m sorry, okay? I messed up so incredibly big.” His voice shook. “But you gotta forgive me. We’re brothers.”

“It’s not about you!” I shouted. “I have to be there. At the house,” the words cracked in my throat. “In case she comes back.”

Mom and Ford stared at me. I was pathetic. I knew that. They didn’t think she was coming back. I knew that too. But I couldn’t believe it. If I did—if I let that become my reality—they may as well plan out my funeral. I couldn’t live without Tally. Not after she’d been mine, even for just a moment.

“If you want, Jeff and I will put security cameras at the house. And we’ll monitor them around the clock.” He threw his hands out. “If she comes back, you’ll know immediately.”

My fingertips itched to punch something. “I’m sorry if you can’t handle being alone. That you have to have constant noise and attention. But I can’t take care of you, Ford,” I said through gritted teeth. “You’re lucky I’m staying on your land at all.” I grabbed the box at my feet. “You can burn the rest. I don’t care.”

Ford hopped up and got between me and the door. “I’ll do anything to fix this. Just name it.”

“You wanna fix this?” I laughed bitterly. “Get me a time machine. Or better yet, use some of your stupid money to find her.”

“I already am. I hired a private investigator the day it happened.”

I fell back a step, shocked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Ford looked at the floor nervously.

I rolled my eyes. “I know why. Because you were waiting until they found something so you could come swooping in like the hero.”

The guilt on his face told me I’d hit the nail on the head.

“What have they found so far?” I asked.

He shook his head, his lips pursed in a bloodless line. The disappointment was like a sucker punch to the kidneys. If a private detective couldn’t find anything, there was no way my late night Google investigations would. And I’d spent every evening scouring through court cases in Oregon, trying to get any information I could find. Holden had used all of his resources too, but the cases were sealed. No one at the FBI cared that Holden was the District Attorney in Seddledowne. We hadn’t even gotten a call back. So we had nothing to go on. Not a single breadcrumb.

I glared Ford down until he finally stepped out of my way. Then I strode out of the closet, through the bedroom, and into the hall.

“Let him go,” Mom said to Ford. “Let me talk to him.” Her footsteps were right behind me.

“I don’t want to talk.” I jogged down the stairs. “I’m not living with him. I can’t believe this is even a concern of yours.”

“Ashton,” Mom said as we came through the front door and out into the annoyingly, sticky-hot Seddledowne air. She raced around me and grabbed my shoulders. “Ashton,” she said again, her forehead furrowed as tight as I’d ever seen it. She looked like she’d aged ten years in the last week. Mom had always seemed young for her age. Her hair was thick and blonde, slightly streaked with grays. But now, there were new lines around her eyes and everything seemed to sag. Exactly how I felt.

Her blue eyes—my eyes—bore into me, so sad. “I don’t think you have any idea how hard it is to be Ford Dupree.”

I snorted. “So hard having millions of dollars and fans who would sell a kidney to meet you for ten seconds.”

She shook my shoulders. “I’m not talking about Ford Dupree of Whiskey and Women.” Her eyes were wide and censuring. Mom hated Ford’s band and everything they stood for. Not the music, just the morals. “I’m talking about Ford Dupree, younger brother of Silas who earned a roping scholarship and won Wyoming’s Teacher of the Year. Younger brother of Holden, who was a collegiate bound athlete before he gave it up for a career to prosecute criminals and give a voice to victims.” I straightened, waiting for my turn. Because the scathing look she was giving me did not make me think that whatever she had to say was going to be kind. “Baby brother of Ashton, the ultimate peacemaker, the one who’s always dependable. Who never disrespects his family with his words or behavior, and who never loses his cool. Who’s smart, and funny, and strong, and handsome, and can make friends with anyone. Who unabashedly loves books and literature quotes but who can also jam a cowboy hat on his head and ride a horse like he’s outrunning a tornado.” She squeezed my shoulders. “You have a confidence that Ford never had. He’s all hot air and exaggeration. We all know that. But you might want to ask yourself why?"

My cheeks burned with shame.

“He would do anything for you to accept him. To be his friend. He’s wanted that his whole life.”

I knew she was right. He’d followed me everywhere I went as a kid, and he plagued me as an adult. Not a day went by without him texting, calling, or sending memes, trying to make me laugh .

I took a beat and said with much less bluster than a moment ago, “I can’t do it right now, Mom. I’m out of my mind without her, okay?”

“I know. But he wouldn’t have done what he did if he’d known. Can you at least admit that?”

I stared at her but I couldn’t make the words come.

She sighed, took the box from me, and set it in the bed of my truck. Then she pulled me into a hug. “You’re going to get over this, Ashton.”

“No, I won’t,” I said sharply. “She was it for me. If she’s gone for good, I’m done.”

“Don’t say that.” Her tone was pain-soaked. She gripped my shoulders, scowling with determination.

“I’m never doing this again. Do you have any idea how this feels? To give someone my heart and then have them vanish?” I scrubbed a hand over my face and blinked back the tears that were never far away.

Mom’s lips trembled. She always recited the quote, “You’re only as happy as your saddest child.” And I knew it was true. Maybe she could be overwhelming and intrusive, but she was a good mom. She loved us with everything she had.

I pulled her against me and told the biggest lie of my life. “I’ll be okay, Mom. Whatever happens, I’ll be okay.”

When I stepped back a moment later, she looked a little better. She smoothed her hair. “We’re all going to James’s youth league football scrimmage over in Highland. You should come with us.”

“No. I need to finish Swoon . Our readers are expecting the final chapter tomorrow.” I squeezed her arm. “Writing always makes me happy.” But I was certain nothing, not even my favorite pastime, had the power to chase the ache away.

She waited while I got into my truck and waved as I drove away.

When I got to the little house, I walked through all the rooms, searching for any sign of life. Charlie’s dolls were situated carefully on her bed just as she’d left them. She’d given them a stern talking to before we left for the beach. Telling them that they’d better behave while she was gone. Theo’s half built Star Trek, Romulan Bird of Prey model was lying on his desk, the tube of glue carefully capped. Seeing their things and knowing they may never be back to play with them almost did me in.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. There was an email notification from a Fiona Whitmore of Bluebird Literary, one of the biggest literary agencies in the country.

Dear Ashton and Tally Dupree,

Congrats on your wedding. I hope this message finds you well. I recently had the pleasure of reading your Spy vs Sigh series on Incognito, and was truly impressed. The electrifying chemistry between your protagonists and the edge-of-your-seat plot twists kept me captivated until the very end. (When does the next chapter come out?!)

I believe your work has the potential to?—

I clicked the lock button, turning off the phone. It was the sixth similar email I’d received since the day…Tally went missing. They were all the same. All wanting to sign a contract, or at the very least, requesting a phone call. It’s what Tally and I had hoped for, but without her…

If I knew she was coming back, I would’ve pursued them. But as it was, how do you tell an agent that, just kidding, my actual life is just as drama-filled as the book I’ve written, and the co-author is MIA, maybe, probably forever?

You don’t .

I set the phone on my desk and sat down in front of my computer.

I checked our Incognito chat thread twenty times a day, hoping Tally would message me there, but as always, it was blank.

As I stared at our empty message screen, desperation attempted to do me in one more time. Maybe if I left a message, she would see it. Then again, maybe it would somehow give her away. I didn’t know how. Our accounts were private. But I had no idea if there were hackers looking for any information they could find about the Hawkins’s whereabouts.

I lifted my hands from the keyboard and walked to the floor to ceiling windows on the back of the house that overlooked the woods. How was I supposed to finish Swoon without her? If I set Jack and Raven up for another mission, our readers would definitely be expecting a third book. We’d promised them a third book. But I couldn’t write another book without Tally. I wouldn’t. She was Raven.

I sat down at the desk. After a half hour of typing, deleting, typing, and deleting again, finally, inspiration struck. The ending would divide readers, sure, but it felt right. If Tally came back— please , let her come back—we'd have solid ground. And if not, well, some stories are best left a little unfinished. I turned off my phone to avoid any distractions, laid my fingers on the keyboard and got to work.

Three hours later, after the sun had set, I was finally done. It needed to be edited but I’d done Jack and Raven’s story justice. I turned my phone back on.

My head came up at the sound of an ambulance in the distance. We lived on a back road. It wasn’t unheard of to hear sirens, but this one sounded close. My phone buzzed on the desk. It was Peyton. I pressed the green check button to answer .

“He—”

“Ashton!” Peyton cried like a woman who’d witnessed something horrible. An ambulance tone blared through the phone at the same time that I heard it outside, even closer.

I stood with a jolt. “Peyt, what’s going on? Are you here at the ranch?”

“It’s F-F-Ford.” She sobbed. “You have to come. I’m at his house. He o-o-overdosed.”

Adrenaline ripped through my body. I sprinted down the hall and out to my truck. My keys were in the ignition as always whenever I was here or at my parent’s ranch. The engine cranked to life and I flew up the road.

When I screeched into the circular driveway, the ambulance almost ran me over, heading back out. Peyton was on the sidewalk, curling in on herself, sobbing. I slammed my brakes in front of her and waved for her to get in.

“What happened?” I asked, smashing the gas pedal to the floor before she had the door all the way shut.

She climbed across the bench seat of my truck and tucked herself against me, crying. “I t-tried to call you but you didn’t answer.”

“I’m so sorry. I turned my phone off.”

“Ford sent me some texts.” She whimpered. “I knew something was wrong. The way he was talking wasn’t normal. He’s usually all swagger and pick up lines. But these were so…” She croaked. “Heartbreaking. So I got in my car and came as fast as I could. I called Lemon. Everyone’s on their way.”

“Was he awake when you got to him? Is he awake now?”

She shook her head, her face surrendering in grief. “He wasn’t breathing and he was so blue. I had to do CPR.” She laughed through her tears. “He finally got his way and I had to put my mouth on his.” But then she sobbed again.

If Ford made it, it was because of her. He’d texted the right person. With my bitterness and jackass behavior lately, I wouldn’t have taken him seriously. I was sick in my gut, ashamed of myself.

My shaking fingers tightened around the steering wheel. This was my fault. I’d been terrible to him. All the years of drugs and alcohol were a cover up for a pain he clearly couldn’t handle on his own. I should’ve been better. Should’ve done better by him. Especially this past week. He was family! What was wrong with me?

The worst thought of all was, when was the last time I told him I loved him? I couldn’t even remember it. We were cowboys. Born and bred to be tough. We kept our feelings close to the chest.

“He’s an idiot ,” Peyton hissed through angry tears. “How could he think the world would be better off without him? He’s freaking Ford Dupree.” She pounded her thigh with her fist. “I should’ve been nicer to him. He gets under my skin, you know? How he’s constantly making passes at me and gets irritated when I don’t cave,” she growled. “Like I should give in to him because he’s rich, famous, and hot.”

I rubbed her arm and released a heartsick chuckle. “I’m going to tell him you said he’s hot.”

“Don’t you dare.” She choked out a laugh. “It’ll make his fat head even fatter.”

Being angry was helping her, and it was distracting me from whatever was going on in the ambulance in front of us, so I rubbed her arm and prayed she’d keep going.

“But if I never see his stupid cocky smile again, or see him undress me with his eyes one more time…” She buried her face in my shoulder. “I can’t think it.”

I forced a slow exhale, grasping for something to say that would help. “Look.” I pointed to the ambulance, siren blaring. “The lights are still on. That’s a good sign. If he was…” I couldn’t say the word. “They’d turn the lights off, you kn ow?” I didn’t even know if that was true, but it sounded like it could be.

She nodded and her expression was tinged with hope.

We rode like that for the next twenty minutes, Peyton hissing at the patient in the ambulance and me watching the lights strobe, blindingly, over and over as if the force of my gaze was keeping them on.

When the ambulance pulled into the hospital, I skidded to a stop right behind it, jammed the truck into park, and jumped out. Peyton met me at the front bumper and we jogged the fifteen feet to the back doors that were being opened.

“Is he okay?” I asked the paramedic. A middle-aged man with thinning blond hair.

He nodded as he yanked the door open. “Lucky sucker. Good thing we had plenty of Narcan.”

Ford’s toes twitched and I’d never seen a happier sight. All the love I worked so hard to suppress, filled my chest until I thought I might explode. A second EMT stepped in front of us and helped pull out the stretcher. Ford was looking up at the ceiling. I hoped he wasn’t wishing his plan had worked.

The second the wheels were on the ground, I tackled him in a hug, chest to chest. “What were you thinking?” I pushed up and looked down into his sad, bloodshot eyes. “It would gut me if you weren’t on this planet. You might drive me crazy, but you’re my annoying little brother. I can’t be here without?—”

I was shoved out of the way by an angry Peyton, whose five-foot-nothing frame suddenly had the strength of an NFL linebacker. “You’re being way too nice,” she hissed at me, her accent twice as thick as normal. Then she jammed her face right in front of Ford’s. “Oh, you're awake now? Good. Look me in my raccoon eyes, Ford Dupree. My mascara's halfway to Georgia thanks to you. And you know how I feel about my makeup. I oughta take a switch to your behind.” She gripped the stretcher rail as they rolled him, her knuckles white.

“Ma’am.” The paramedic tried to get her to step back.

She waved him off like he was nothing more than an annoying gnat, and kept on fussing at Ford. “I swear on my granddaddy’s grave if you ever do that again, I won’t speak to you for the rest of my life.” Her shoulders shook. “Do you h-hear me?” Tears dripped off her chin, landing all over his face. He just stared up at her, stunned.

The sliding doors of the E.R. came open. “Ma’am,” the paramedic tried again. “I don’t want to smash you.”

Rather than falling back, she hopped up on the stretcher, not slowing in her rebuke even a little. “Ask me what it was like, finding you half-dead on the bathroom floor?”

His mouth pressed tight, his eyes glued to her like he’d never seen a woman cry before.

“I had to touch your cold, blue lips with mine. It was worse than dissecting a frog in tenth grade Biology! My therapist is gonna need a therapist." She sniffled hard. "And you're paying for both of them, by the way!”

I couldn’t help it. A snort escaped my mouth.

“Your life was literally in my hands, and all I could think was 'Dear Lord, please don't let him die before I can kill him myself!’" She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "And I still might, Ford. I still might.” Then she wailed, pounding him in the chest. “Don’t you ever do that again!” She choked. “Promise me!”

He reached up and wiped her tears away, looking sick. “Oh, Peyt, I’m so sorry.” He pulled her against him, and she kept right on crying, her cheek smashed into his nose.

“Promise me,” she whimpered.

“I promise.”