Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

ASHLEY

Even though I told Mom that I'd give her some notice before driving home, I can't wait. The longer I leave it, the more chance there is of him going back to town.

I know that there's no way her house isn't already immaculate and ready to receive visitors. She's always been houseproud, and airing out my room will take all of five minutes. If it's even necessary. I'm sure the most I'll have to do is make the bed.

I'm home alone, my housemates already at work, which means there's no one there to talk me out of packing enough clothes for the weekend and going back home today. And anyway, there's something inside me, my gut maybe, telling me I need to go home … and I need to go now. Putting it off will be a mistake.

I'm zipping up my suitcase when the doorbell rings. And that's the moment I remember that I agreed to go for lunch with Scott. Our days off have matched for the first time in weeks, and he wants to spend the afternoon with me.

He's been wanting that more and more lately. I'm content to see him once or twice a week, but he's started insisting on seeing me more often. I'm considering whether it's time to call things off with him. He's nice enough, but I don't want anything serious.

Pulling the suitcase off the bed, I drag it down the stairs, and lean it against the wall in the hallway, before I open the front door.

Scott hands me a bunch of flowers. "For you. I saw them on the drive here, and they reminded me of you."

"Thank you." I lead him through the house to the kitchen, so I can put the daisies into a vase.

"I forgot about lunch today, I'm sorry." I put the vase on the windowsill. "I spoke to my mom this morning, and I've decided to go home for a couple of days."

"Oh?"

"You just caught me, in fact. I was about to leave. I want to miss the afternoon traffic on the drive out of the city."

"I can come with you, if you want. I'm owed some time off."

"No. There's no point in you wasting vacation time. I'll go home, spend a couple of days with my mom, then I'll be back."

"But why now? Is your mom okay? She's not sick, is she?"

I hesitate before replying. I should tell him the truth. It's not like it's some big secret that's going to change our relationship. I don't know why I don't want to tell him. Maybe because he'll ask why I've never mentioned it in the three years we've been dating. And I have no answer to that. He thinks I'm Ashley Truman, an only child, with no devastating tragedy in her past.

But there's an edge to his tone. One that suggests if I tell him the truth now, he'll take it personally. Like I've never trusted him with the real me .

It wouldn't be a lie .

I stifle the little voice that whispers through my head. It's not that I don't trust Scott. He's sweet. He's nice . Our relationship is easy and comfortable. He makes no demands on me. It's more like friends with benefits than anything else. And I like it that way because it means neither of us are getting pressured by friends and family to meet someone and date.

"Ashley?"

I turn so I can face him. His face is troubled.

"Is everything okay?"

I force myself to smile. "Everything is fine. I'm just homesick."

"It has nothing to do with that guy being released from prison this morning?"

"Wh-what?"

His head tilts to the side, and he waits, as if expecting me to say something. When I don't, he sighs.

"Ashley, I'm not stupid. I've known who you really are for a long time." His voice is gentle. "I hoped you'd reach a point where you'd tell me, but I didn't want to push it until you were ready. It was clear that you wanted to forget about that part of your life."

"But how ?"

His smile is faint. "I caught a news article a couple of years ago. There were photographs of you walking into the court, and the artist images from the case itself. You haven't changed as much as you think."

My heart is pounding, my mouth drying up.

If Scott knows, who else does ?

I don't know if he reads my thoughts, or I make some noise, but he answers my silent question.

"I don't think anyone else has made the connection. So, why are you really going home?"

I lick my lips. "My mom says I should just forget about it and move on with my life."

"She was Jason's stepmom, right?"

My nod is jerky. "I can't explain it, Scott. I just … I need to go home."

"Maybe it's for closure."

"Closure?"

"You left when you were eighteen, didn't you?" He doesn't wait for me to reply. "You've spent years running from what happened. Maybe now that Ryder has been released, and he's been cleared, you need to go home and prove to yourself that you've moved on." He reaches out and takes my hand, so he can draw me toward him. "Are you sure you don't want me to come along?"

I shake my head. "No. Thank you, though. Maybe you're right. Maybe I just need to put the old version of me to rest. And to do that, I need to go home."

He smiles down at me, then presses a kiss to my forehead. "I expect you to call me as soon as you get there."

"I will."

"Then let's get the suitcase in your car, so you can get on your way. I don't like the idea of you driving in the dark."

"I'll be fine. "

"I know you will, but it doesn't mean I have to like it." He releases my hand and steps around me to pick up the suitcase.

I follow him down the hall and out of the front door. My small car is parked a hundred yards down the road. I unlock the trunk before he reaches it, the lights flashing, and trail along behind him. I leave him to put the suitcase in the car, and open the driver door, so I can get in. The car rocks slightly when he slams the trunk closed, then comes to crouch beside the open door, one hand on the roof to balance himself.

"Drive safely, and call me when you get there."

"I will."

"If you need me?—"

"Thank you."

"Ashley, I mean it."

I lean out so I can kiss his cheek. "I know, and I appreciate it. I do . But I need to do this alone."

He reaches inside to cup my cheeks, and presses a kiss to my lips, then straightens.

"I love you, Ashley."

My jaw drops.

What the hell?

I have no idea what I'm supposed to do. He's never said that before. I've never even thought it.

Should I say it back? Should I say thank you? Okay? What should I say?

He slams the door before I can make a decision, and I'm left there, with my mouth hanging open, staring at him through the window .

He thumps the roof, and steps back onto the sidewalk, his grin crooked, as he motions for me to drive away.

I collect my jaw from off the floor, put the car into drive, and pull out of the parking space. He waves as I drive past, and I return it, feeling all kinds of awkward.

Why would he say that right now? Could he have picked a worse moment?

Maybe that was the point. To give me something to focus on other than where I'm going. He doesn't really mean it. It was just to shock me.

I spend the next hour trying to convince myself that's the truth, because if it's not, and he does mean it … then I have a serious decision to make when I go back.