“Callahan.” His voice is low, but I can still hear it. “Is that you?”
I’m shocked. What did he do, sense my presence? That’s just weird. I go to the doorway, stopping just outside of it. “Can I come in?”
“Hell no. I don’t want you to see me.” The mattress moves, and I assume he’s shifting into a more comfortable position. A grunt escapes him, then a little groan. “Go away.”
Now it’s finally his turn to tell me to go away. “Are you okay?”
“No. No, I’m pretty fucked up, but thanks to your parents, I’m hoping I’ll be okay in a little while,” he answers.
I bet that is the most truthful Ash has ever been with me. And I can appreciate that. “Do you need anything?”
“Just your tender loving care,” he says, and I know he’s teasing me.
“You won’t even let me come in the room.” I’m now standing in the doorway, and there’s no light on, but the shine of the moon through the bare window that faces the backyard illuminates the space with a silvery glow.
“Trust me. You don’t want to. I look fucking awful.” He chuckles under his breath. “Feel pretty damn bad too.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” He says those words quickly, and I respect his wishes.
“I guess I should go.”
“Yeah, you should. Let me get some sleep.”
“You weren’t sleeping when I showed up here.”
He sighs. “Caught me.”
“Who were you talking to?” I squint, trying to make out his features, but there’s a shadow across his face. His mouth appears swollen, and I see there’s a white bandage above his eye. He’s holding himself stiffly, as if it hurts to move, and I feel bad. Despite everything we’ve gone through, how terrible he’s been to me, how awful I’ve been to him, I want to tell him sorry. I want to comfort him.
But I can’t, because he has a girlfriend.
“I wasn’t talking to anyone,” he says, knocking me from my thoughts.
“I saw the flash of your camera.”
“I was taking a photo of myself to document this shit. So I don’t ever forget it.”
I believe him.
Taking a deep breath, I say, “Well, good night.”
I’m turning to leave when his voice stops me. “You going to try to follow me around all the time now, Callahan?” He just experienced the worst thing ever, and now he’s teasing me. He could’ve suffered worse injuries, he could’ve died.
And he’s acting like it’s no big deal.
“Of course not,” I retort, determined not to make it a big deal either.
“Good,” he returns just as fast. “Guess we’re going to have to try real hard to avoid each other then.”
“Guess so,” I say, leaving before I say something more.
Something stupid.
Something untrue.
I enter the kitchen the next morning to find Ash sitting at the counter, eating scrambled eggs and bacon with toast. Mom never makes us breakfast during the weekdays. That’s a weekend thing, and since we’ve moved here, it’s become Dad’s weekend thing.
I’m not in the best mood in the mornings, so seeing Ash get better treatment annoys me. This also means I’m a heartless bitch and I need to get over it.
“Morning,” I say in general, though I’m really talking to Mom, who’s plating more food, I’m assuming for me. I don’t look at Ash. It’s like I’m afraid to see his face, though I need to turn and see it eventually.
“Good morning.” Mom is extra cheerful—also unusual. Pretty sure I inherited my cloudy morning moods from her. She smiles at me and indicates the plate before her with the spatula in her hand. “You want breakfast?”
“Sure.” I take my breakfast and turn, fully facing Ash for the first time. I stare at his face, our gazes meeting, and the plate slips from my fingers, falling onto the wood floor with a loud clatter, eggs and toast and bacon everywhere.
He grins at me, and he reminds me of a pirate with only one eye open. All he needs is a patch. His mouth looks like he received Kylie Jenner-style lip injections, they’re so swollen. His cheek is bruised, along with a few scratches, and there are finger-sized bruises on his neck. “Mornin’, sunshine,” he says, his voice raspier than usual.
I press trembling fingers to my lips as I take him in, and my heart literally aches for him. How can he act like this is no big deal? “Oh Ash.”
His smile fades, replaced by a scowl. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”
He’s mad. Mad because I feel bad over what happened to him. Mad because I had the indecency to show sympathy. I don’t understand him. I will probably never understand him. And I wish I could.
I wish I could go to him and hug him close. Tell him everything’s going to be okay. But that would be a lie, because I don’t know if his life will be okay. He’s a mystery, and so are his circumstances. I doubt he’ll ever tell me what’s really going on.
And I’m not sure if I want to know.
At a loss of what to say, I kneel and start picking up the mess I made, grabbing the food with shaky hands and throwing it on the thankfully still-intact plate. Mom helps me, sending me a look as we’re both bent over the floor.
“Act normal,” she whispers, and I just stare at her incredulously. How can I act normal when the very boy I’ve dreamed about my entire high school existence is now staying in my house? And who appears to have been beat within an inch of his life?
We both rise, Mom dumping the food in the trash before she grabs another plate. “Sit down,” she tells me. “I’ll bring you your breakfast.”
I go to the counter and sit on a stool, not right next to Ash, though. I leave an empty seat between us, because I can’t be that close. I don’t want to see the damage that closely yet. I’d rather stare at it from a distance.
But I’m not distant enough. I study him unabashedly as Mom engages him in tentative conversation. The bruises around his neck break my heart. Did his mom’s boyfriend actually try to kill him? The bruises that ring his eye go from black to purple to red, and his actual eye is swollen into a slit, while the cut above it is held together with a butterfly bandage. I wonder if that wound actually needs stitches. Dad mentioned they’d probably take him to the doctor this morning, and I really hope they do. Ash looks like he needs serious care.
Ava is next to enter the kitchen, and before she can even catch a glimpse of Ash, he’s gone. He doesn’t bother catching my eye or saying anything. Just slips off the barstool and makes his way toward the opposite end of the house, where the guest room is.
I’m wondering if we’re going to start calling it Ash’s room now.
Mom turns away from the stove with a plate in her hand, stopping short when she sees the empty barstool occupied by Ash only seconds ago. “Where did he go?”
I shrug. “He just—left.”
Ava settles onto the stool, smiling at Mom. “What did we do to deserve a big breakfast?”
Mom parts her lips, ready to answer but I interrupt her. “She did it for Asher Davis. We just benefited.”
“That’s not true.” Mom presses her lips together.
I send her a look. “Come on.”
With a sigh, Mom deposits the plate in front of Ava. “Fine, you got me.”
I munch on my last bit of bacon and stand, grabbing my plate to take it to the sink. “Hurry up, Ava. We have to leave in ten minutes.” I drive my brother and sister to school every morning, since we all go to the same one now, which is kind of weird. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in school with Ava, though this is our last year together.
I’m leaving the kitchen as Beck comes barreling in. “I smell bacon!”
Mom laughs. “Good morning to you, too. I guess you want some breakfast? Autumn!”
I pause in my tracks, glancing over my shoulder at her. “What?”
“Tell Jake to come down here and eat real quick before you guys leave.”
“I’m not going upstairs.” My backpack is in the laundry room/mudroom that leads into the garage. “Text him.”
Mom rolls her eyes. “Fine.” She whips her phone out of her pocket and starts tapping on the screen, ignoring me.