All It Takes (7 page)

My favorite foster father used to laugh and tell me I was going to grow up to be a smart ass. I’d been indignant back then, convinced he just wasn’t taking me seriously. But I’m starting to think that maybe he was right.

When I look back again, the twins have disappeared inside the mini-mart, and I drop Ash’s hand, grinning. But when I look over at Ash, his face is pale despite the summer heat, and his eyes kind of flicker up to meet mine, hesitant.

“Hey,” he says, and his voice is soft and I can hear just how much effort it’s taking him to get his throat to work. It makes my chest hurt. He clears his throat and tries again. “Thanks . . . thanks for that,” he says. “It’s just, the fucking people in this town . . . ”

“It’s no problem,” I say, and grin at him while I take a sip of my slushie. He opens his mouth and tries again to get words out, but I stop him before he can. “Seriously, Ash. It wasn’t a problem. Save it for the big stuff,” I say, throwing his earlier words back at him. He kind of blinks at me for a second, then a smile starts to tug at the corner of his mouth and I know he got it. He snorts at me and takes a long suck of his disgusting drink and after a minute, he’s got some color back in his face.

“All right, smarty-pants,” he says, and reaches his hand out, palm up. “Give me the keys.”

I dig them out of my pocket and hand them over without hesitation, but I have to ask, “Why?”

“Because it’s fucking boiling out here, and I’m going to take us someplace cool.” He heads to the driver’s side of the car, and I follow after him, ready to go wherever he takes me, because right now?
Cool
sounds like the best idea ever.

***

“
You’re a genius,” I tell him, kicking off my shoes and scrambling down onto one of the rocks on the shore. I sit down, the remainder of my slushie in hand, and stick my feet down into the water. It’s gloriously cool, and I sigh with relief. Behind me, Ash chuckles and hops down from rock to rock until he’s sitting on the one next to mine.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the first time in my life anyone has actually referred to me like that,” he says, reaching down to yank off his own shoes. “I think I could get used to it.”

“Keep coming up with good ideas, and you’ll have to,” I say, and lean back to press my back up against the bigger rock behind me. I take another long sip of my drink, and even though it’s more liquid than ice now, it’s still cool and refreshing. Between it and the lake and the shade from the trees above us, I’m actually starting to cool down. Off in the distance, I can see the beach on the other side of the lake. There are people splashing and swimming, little motorboats zipping back and forth across the water. But it all seems a million miles away. Where we are, it’s quiet.

“How’d you even find this place?” I ask, because it’s not like you’d just stumble upon it. We had to park the car on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere, and follow a dirt path nearly hidden in the underbrush through the forest before we got here.

Ash smirks and dunks both his feet in the water at once, hard enough that the water splashes back and mists us with cool droplets. “Came down to the lake with my parents when I was a little kid,” he said. “They wanted to go to the beach—their friends were having some kind of fancy barbecue or something, I don’t know. They told me to go off and play with the other kids, but their friends’ kids never wanted to play with me, so I wandered off instead. Ended up here.” He looks out at the water, and he’s still smiling, but it’s not as bright as before. It’s almost sad. “I must have come out here a million times growing up. Whenever I just wanted to get away. The path was already there when I found it, but I’ve never seen anyone else here, so I figure it has to be pretty damn old. I probably wore it even deeper, coming out here so much.” He sighs and shifts until he’s lying flat on his back, his feet dangling over the side of the rock, staring up at the canopy of leaves above us.

“Have you been back?” I ask. “You know, since you got out?” I shove the straw back in my mouth and force myself to take another long brain-freezing slurp. I can’t believe that I’m reminding him of his time in prison. What the hell is wrong with me? But Ash just shakes his head and stays quiet.

Some time later, after I’ve finished my drink and we’ve been sitting there long enough to become lazy and sluggish, Ash groans and tugs himself back into a sitting position. “You know what?” he says to me. “Fuck it. I’m going for a swim.”

I can feel my brow furrow. “Seriously?” I ask him. What brought this on?

He nods and pulls himself to his feet. “I haven’t gone for a swim in five years. Longer, probably. I’m finally back here. I’m not going to let it go to waste.”

Then he reaches down and pulls his T-shirt over his head and my mouth goes dry.

Holy shit.

Ash is gorgeous. He’s all smooth muscle and wide shoulders and he’s got this big solid black tattoo on his left shoulder that snakes down like smoke. My eyes follow it, desperate to figure out what it is, and that’s when I see them.

The scars.

Holy
shit.

Chapter 7

Ash

F
or a brief, glorious moment, I feel Star’s eyes on me, and I think she’s checking me out. And I want to throw my arms up in victory. Hot girl checking me out. Awesome.

Then I remember the scars, and I come crashing back down to reality. Shit. That’s why I hadn’t wanted to take my shirt off in the first place. I glance down at them. She hasn’t said anything yet, but I know how bad they look. My entire side is criss-crossed, and there’s one jagged one that looks like something tried to tear me in half. The funny thing is, my wounds from the crash look a hell of a lot worse than they ever were. I was messed up, yeah, but nothing vital was hit. I was never in any real danger.

The guy I hit, on the other hand, all he got was a bump on the head, and that was it for him. Lights out. It fucking sucks.

I hate the scars, but they’re important to me like almost nothing else ever has been. They’re my reminder. Every time I see them, I have to remember what I did, how I fucked up and caused the death of another human being. And I have to live with that.

Shoving down the urge to scoop my shirt back up off the rock and pull it back on, I look over at Star. Our eyes meet, and she looks a little sad.

Fuck.

She opens her mouth, and since I don’t want to talk about it, about the crash, about the guy I killed, about any of it, I cut her off before she can say anything. “You gonna join me?” I ask, and nod toward the water. She kind of blinks at me for a second, like she’s trying to decide whether or not to let me have my diversion, but then a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

“Maybe I want you to see how cold it is, first.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” I say, smirking. “You want to see if I’m gonna freeze my balls off when I jump in. Gonna leave it all on my shoulders, huh?”

“Well, swimming
was
your idea,” she says, and leans back against the rock.

“Fine, then,” I say, and start climbing back over the rocks, away from the shoreline.

“Hey!” she says, turning to watch me go. “Where are you going? I thought you were going in.”

“I am,” I tell her, and turn back around.

“Hard to do that from way over there. What? You chickening out already?”

I shake a finger at her. “You’re going to regret saying that in a minute,” I say. Then I drop my arm, bounce a little on the balls of my feet and start running toward the water.

I race through the forest, bare feet pounding against the dirt, and as soon as my feet hit rock, I do what I haven’t done in five whole years.

I close my eyes. I jump.

I fly.

In that moment, there’s nothing. Nothing but the wind in my face and the feeling of weightlessness before I come crashing down. And this . . .

This is the hardest part, the shock of the cold all around you when you first hit the water. It moves through your body in a jolt, like an electric shock gone wrong.

It gets to me every damn time, and this time is no different. Still reeling from the cold, I feel my feet hit the bottom of the lake bed, and I shove against it, propelling myself back to the surface. I spin around, searching for Star, and find her on her feet, sputtering, dripping with water. I grin. I knew my splash would get her.

“I told you so!” I yell. And she looks over and glares at me.

“You’re a jerk,” she calls back, wiping her hands down her arms to get the droplets of water off her.

I laugh. “Well, you’re already wet now,” I call out to her. “You might as well come in.” I’m not gonna lie, the sight of Star dripping wet in front of me is doing things to me. Even through the chill of the water, I can feel the heat that courses through my body at the mere thought of her with her soaked clothes sticking to her.

Down boy,
I tell myself.
No perving on Star. We’ve fucking established this.

“Turn around,” Star calls from the shore.

What?

“What?” I yell back. It’s weird how loud the water is once you’re actually on it. All I can hear is the sound of the waves around me, the echoes of the splashing and laughter from the beach across the way. Why the hell would she want me to turn around?

“Just turn around, Ash,” she says, planting her hands on her hips and giving me a little glare that’s honestly not doing anything to make the heat in my belly die down.

“Ugh, fine,” I say, and swirl my arms around me until I’m facing in the other direction. From here I can see the crowd on the beach, and I can’t help but wonder if my parents are a part of it. They could be there, right now, attending another barbecue or whatever the hell they do during the summer now that they’re retired. I’ve never asked. I feel kind of bad about that, all of a sudden. It’s been five years, and other than them losing my dog, I have no idea what they’ve done in all that time, no idea what their lives are like. I tread water for a bit, waiting, wondering what Star’s doing back there. With my luck, she’ll have grabbed my shirt and shoes and run for the car as soon as I turned around, leaving me waiting here, splashing around like an idiot. That’s what my ex Gina would have done. She would have laughed the whole way, and then would have told me to stop being such a pussy, that it was just a joke, when I would be all pissed at her, afterward.

Not that I’m speaking from experience or anything.

But seriously, what the hell is Star doing back there? I wonder if I should turn around, but she told me not to, and technically she’s my boss, so . . .

“Okay,” her voice breaks through my daydreaming. “You can turn around now.”

With a splash, I turn back toward the shore, and I’m kicking myself for not turning around. She would have killed me, but it would have been worth it, because
fucking hell
that girl is wearing the tiniest black bikini I’ve ever seen, and I’m so freaking glad I’m immersed in cold water right now, because
Jesus Christ.
She’s so fucking hot. I can’t help it; I let out what I hope is the quietest groan ever, and dunk my head under the water. When I come back up for air, she’s making her way down the rocks like a billy goat, arms stretched out at her sides for balance.

The girl has tattoos everywhere and that fact alone is going to kill me.

“Be careful, okay?” I call out to her, because, contrary to popular belief, I’m not a total asshole. “The rocks are slippery.”

“You’re not kidding,” she says, sliding a bit before catching herself with a gasp. I swim closer. Better she fall on me than on the rocks.

“Just get to the edge of that one and jump in,” I tell her. “It’s deep enough.”

“I’m not really the jumping type,” she tells me, but she plants her feet on the edge of the rock like she’s considering it, anyway. “Normally I just ease myself in.”

“Rookie mistake,” I say, and now that I’m close enough I start treading water again, holding my position. “It’s better to just get it over with.” She stares down at the water like she’s trying to figure out its secrets, and I want to laugh at the serious look on her face, but I’m too distracted by her tattoos. I’ve seen the one on her right arm, but it looks like she has an almost matching one on the back of her upper left one, but I can’t make out what it says. There’s also a bunch of stars trailing up her foot—fitting, I decide—and what looks like some kind of pink-and-white flowers dancing up her ribs.

She’s fucking gorgeous. Her eyes dart up to me, catching me looking at her, and at first I’m afraid she’s going to tell me off, but all she says is “you sure?” and I nod.

“Just jump,” I tell her. “You’ll be fine.”

And then she does.

***

We lose track of time and the sun is starting to set by the time we head back to the car. We’re dripping wet and laughing, our clothes sticking to our damp bodies like a second skin, our stomachs rumbling from our forgotten lunch and dinner.

“I’m
starving,”
Star moans as we pull up to the house. Her hair is still dripping, and the tiny droplets keep running down her neck and under her shirt, and I really
really
want to follow them with my eyes, find out where they go. But instead, I nod my head in agreement and haul myself out of the car. Instead of heading to the diner for the millionth time, we stopped at the grocery store on the way back and got stuff for sandwiches, and I pull the bag out of the backseat and slam the door. “I forgot how hungry swimming makes me.”

“Too bad,” I tell her, following her to the backyard. “Because I’m going to eat all the sandwiches. All of them.” I wrap my arms around the grocery bag to claim it for my own. “Every last one.”

“Not a chance,” she says. “You even try and I
will
feed you to the wolves.”

I laugh. “Then I’ll be full and the wolves will be full, and you’ll still be hungry. So that would still be a win for me.”

“But you’d be dead,” she points out.

“Full
and dead,” I say, because the
full
part is the important one here.

“Ugh, you’re a terrible person,” she groans. “Why do I hang out with you again?” She’s joking, I know she is. But her words still make something jerk inside me. Because right now, she’s the only one I’ve got, and as amazing as Star is, that still really fucking sucks.

I step forward in the darkness, and go barreling into her unexpectedly. I grab her before we both go tumbling to the ground, and when we right ourselves, my arm is wound tightly around her waist. “Woah,” I say once we’re steady on our feet again. “Are you okay?”

“Ash?” There’s something in her voice that makes me freeze up. Something’s wrong.

“Yeah?”

“Were you being serious about the wolves?”

“What?”

She looks over her shoulder at me. Her eyes are like saucers. “Are there really wolves in Avenue?”

“Why?” She takes another step back, until her back is pressed hard up against my chest. She’s shaking. Her entire body is trembling in my arms.

“Because I think there’s something in the backyard.” Her voice cracks on the last word. It takes a second for her words to filter through my brain enough for me to make sense of them. As soon as I realize what she’s trying to tell me, I pull her back, putting my body between her and the gate to the backyard.

“Whoa, are you fucking serious?” I ask. I have my hand flat against her stomach, and I keep my arm extended, keeping her well behind me. I can feel her muscles jump beneath my fingers. I take a careful step forward, trying to see into the backyard while still keeping my distance. But it’s too dark. I can’t see. The only light out now is the glow from the streetlights, and it isn’t quite making it to the backyard. Fuck.

I realize I’m still holding the grocery bag, so I hand it back to Star. She takes it without a word, and together we edge closer to the backyard. We’re almost at the gate when, out of the corner of my eye, I see something move along the back fence, disappearing into the shadows under the oak tree. “There!” Star hisses, reaching out and jabbing a finger toward the shadow. “Did you see it? It was right there?” She takes a step forward, and I reach out and catch her by the arm, pulling her back.

“I saw it,” I say. “At least, I think I did.” It is too dark, too fucking dark. I can’t see anything clearly. My free hand darts out, and snags the flashlight out of the box that we’d dumped by the side of the house. I flick the switch and a beam of light shoots out. I flash it over the fence, scanning the light back and forth, gazing hard into the darkness.

Where is it? Where the fuck is it?

There!

My eyes catch on it. Yes! I inch closer, squinting at the dark shape, Star’s question about wolves looping over and over in my mind.

“Hey!” I yell out, waving the light back and forth, trying to get its attention. “Get out of here!”

But as the words leave my mouth, the thing steps out of the shadows, and I catch it in the beam of the flashlight, and my entire body fucking freezes.

Holy. Shit.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Bruiser?

Star

O
h. My. God.

I’ve never seen anything like this.

I thought for sure that the way Ash had tensed up, the way his eyes had darted back and forth across the yard, searching, meant that he was going to turn to me and tell me to get in the house and call animal control. But when his eyes landed on the creature, his grip on my arm didn’t tighten, and he didn’t start pulling me back to the car. Instead his grip loosened until his hand fell from my arm to hang limp at his side, and his eyes turned into dinner plates.

He murmured something and shot forward, through the back gate, straight toward the animal. I opened my mouth to stop him, to scream, to do
something.
But instead of growling or snarling or backing away—or any number of things the animal could have done—it let out a series of high pitched barks and then raced forward, straight into Ash’s arms.

Holy. Shit.

I’m on the back porch now, but even from here I can see the look on Ash’s face. He’s laughing but at the same time he looks like he’s about a second and a half away from bawling his eyes out. He turns and buries his face in the dog’s neck, even though its dark brown fur is filthy and probably stinks just as bad as anything we’ve found in the yard. He’s on his knees in the patchy grass, the still-damp fabric sinking into the dirt, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He just wraps the massive dog up in his arms, and starts squeezing it like there’s no tomorrow.

The dog, on the other hand, is the image of pure joy. It’s squirming in Ash’s arms like all of its Christmases have come at once, and just the sight of it is making my eyes start to burn.

Fuck.

I didn’t cry when CPS knocked on my mother’s door and took me away. I didn’t cry when I got the call that my mother had died. And there’s no way in hell I’m going to start crying over whatever the hell is going on in front of me, no matter how much my throat is choking up right now.

I turn away and scrub my hands over my face, though. Just in case.

***

Ash starts making his way back over to me once he and the mutt—who actually has a much sweeter disposition than his appearance led me to believe—have calmed down enough for him to introduce us, and I can’t stop thinking about it. About how happy they both look.