Gilt Hollow (13 page)

Jeff's eyes widened slightly and the slackness left his expression. “I have a friend staying with me in the apartment, but . . .” He glanced behind him and then back at Ashton. “I've got a small blow-up mattress we could drag into the shop.”

“Perfect! I owe you one, man.”

Jeff moved out of the doorway and gestured for Ashton to come in. “I'd say you owe me more than one at this point, kid.” The three windows behind the counter allowed enough light for Ashton to see Jeff grimace. “That cop, Kagawa, won't leave me alone. He comes snoopin' around here at least once a day.”

After inflating the air mattress, they carried it through the shop and laid it to the right of the counter, the only place with enough floor space. Jeff handed Ashton a flat pillow and a ratty-looking blanket. “You can use the public toilet, but there's no shower. How long do you need to crash?”

Ashton began to make his bed. He'd slept on worse. “Not sure, maybe a night or two.” Or until he could trust himself to sleep under the same roof with Willow.

When Ashton straightened, Jeff put a hand on his shoulder. “Everything okay, kid? You're not in any trouble, are you?”

Ashton couldn't blame Jeff for not wanting to get involved, but this time he didn't need to worry. “Just girl trouble.”

“
That
I can understand.” He shook his head with a grin and walked back to his apartment. “Sleep good, kid.”

Easier said than done. Ashton sat on the edge of the mattress and cradled his head in his hands. He was a complete and total idiot. After shedding his jacket and toeing off his boots, he flopped onto his back. But when his gaze fastened
on the star-filled sky through the window, he saw Willow's eyes sparkling as they gazed up at him. He could still feel her soft lips against his thumb, smell her skin. Ashton rolled over on his stomach and punched the mattress.

He could've screwed up all the ground they'd gained with one stupid, thoughtless kiss. He'd promised Adam Lamott on his deathbed that he'd watch out for Willow. So far he'd failed miserably. But he'd been given a second chance, and he didn't think that included making out with her on the street.

Shifting onto his side, he tucked the pillow under his head and tried to shift his focus. Someone in Gilt Hollow wanted him gone. Badly. The flyers and the warning message to Willow indicated premeditation—especially now that he knew they had paid that kid to take his picture for the express purpose of plastering it all over town. Speaking of, he had no clue how the flyers had been removed so quickly. He'd driven through town that morning on his way to school and they'd been everywhere. Had the chief ordered them cleaned up, or did Ashton have a secret ally?

He tugged the blanket up over his shoulder, but his eyes refused to close. He had a feeling whoever was out to get him wasn't done yet.

W
illow didn't see Ashton the rest of the weekend. At night she lay in bed straining to hear a footstep or telltale bang of pipes, but there were no signs of him. Except in her dreams, where he would show up uninvited, arms crossed, smirking as she danced in the garden in her bunny slippers, or arching an eyebrow as she fled from an enormous cartoon textbook.

Deciding it was best to put some distance between them after what had almost happened, Willow hadn't texted him or gone upstairs to check if he'd slept there—although fighting the urge took up more of her mental capacity than she cared to admit.

Brayden had called several times, leaving apologetic messages, but she was too confused to call him back, so she'd texted to tell him she needed some time. Time to figure out if she could date one boy and want another. Despite everything that had happened, everything Ashton had done, she'd wanted him to kiss her, wanted it from her tingling lips to the depths of her soul. What did that say about her feelings for Brayden?

To keep her mind busy, she'd reorganized the files on her computer, completed an extra-credit project for science, and helped her mom clean the library. Sorting the hundreds of books by author and genre had done wonders for her raging emotions.

■ ■ ■

On Monday morning Willow trudged down the stairs, wishing she could crawl back under the covers and hide. Maybe being invisible hadn't been so bad after all.

As she entered the kitchen, her mom, head stuck in the pantry, called, “Rainn, did you eat the entire box of granola bars yesterday?”

Willow slid onto a stool at the island. “Mom, you okay in there?” As if in answer, a bag of chips hit the floor, followed by more shuffling.

“And all twelve juice boxes?” Mom came out and eyed Rainn, who sat at the counter shoveling spoonfuls of oatmeal into his mouth, chunks of blond hair falling over his eyes. “Did you have a party I didn't know about, buddy? There are a whole bunch of bananas missing too. I was going to make muffins with those.”

Narrow shoulders hunched, her brother didn't answer.

“Rainn Robert Lamott, what is going on?”

He scraped his bowl, ate the last bite, and then turned wide green eyes on their mother. “I gave them to the ghost.”

Mom's brows winged up, her forehead crinkling. “Really?”

“Yup, he lives on the third floor.”

The bottom dropped out of Willow's stomach.

Rainn slipped off his stool and walked over to the sink. “I hear him almost every night, but I figure if we give him something to eat, he won't hurt us. He'll know we're his friends.”

Willow met her mom's amused gaze and then let out a low breath. If the woman didn't sleep like the dead, she would've heard Ashton by now too. But clearly a granola-eating ghost pushed the limits of Dee Lamott's open-mindedness.

Mom turned back to Rainn. “Baby, I don't think ghosts can eat.”

Willow stifled a giggle as her brother spun around. “Oh
yeah? Then why is the food always missing when I go back the next day?”

“Well, I—” Mom arched a brow at Willow, accusing her of hiding the food.

Willow froze. Ashton was probably eating it because he thought she was leaving it for him. But before she could respond, Rainn explained, “He doesn't like everything.” His little forehead scrunched up. “He didn't eat the rice cakes I left him Friday or Saturday, but when I checked this morning, the Pop-Tarts were gone.”

He put his bowl and spoon in the dishwasher and then shrugged. “Maybe he only likes sweets.”

Rainn grabbed his backpack and headed out the back door. Willow opened the refrigerator and stuck her head inside to hide her laughter. Ashton had a notorious sweet tooth. She grabbed the gallon of milk and, when she turned, almost tripped over her mother standing like a statue behind her.

“Stop encouraging him, Willow. His head is stuck in the clouds half the time, and he needs a bit of reality to keep him grounded.”

Biting back her grin, Willow sidestepped her mom and grabbed a box of cereal off the counter. “Sorry, I didn't think it was hurting anything.” Deciding to change the subject before her mom asked where she'd stashed the food, Willow poured her cereal and commented, “The flower shop is hiring. I thought I'd stop by after school and fill out an application.”

Mom moved to the sink and picked up a small watering can, then turned to face her. “I've been thinking about that, and I'd really like to see you focus on your studies this year.”

They'd struggled financially for as long as Willow could remember. When her dad was alive, it wasn't so noticeable.
Going on imaginary vacations and making homemade presents for each other had seemed normal, and Dad had made it fun. But after he passed, the life insurance went to medical bills and funeral costs. They'd had to sell their car, and Mom took a second job. “What about saving for college?”

Her back to Willow as she watered her window herb garden, she replied, “I have every confidence that you'll get a scholarship, and if it doesn't cover everything, you'll qualify for financial aid.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I want you to have a normal senior year, honey. Go to dances and parties and act like a seventeen-year-old for once.”

It was exactly what Willow wanted too, but for some reason, her mom's generosity made her belly twist. She put down her half-eaten bowl of cereal.

Mom faced her again. “Speaking of parties, I emailed the Keller House solicitor for permission to host a Sleepy Hollow Ball after-party here.” The grin that spread across her face made her look like a little girl. “Wouldn't this place make an amazing haunted house? I found boxes full of Halloween decorations in the basement, and we could make creepy food, like blood-dipped candy apples and witch's brew punch with dry ice.”

The knot in Willow's belly tugged tighter. This sweet, generous woman was trying to give her the senior year she'd always dreamed of, and yet Willow had done nothing but defy her wishes and lie to her face.

“Honey, what? We don't have to have witch's brew . . . is that too corny?”

Trying to wipe the worry off her face, Willow shook her head. “No, Mom, it's perfect. I just . . . I . . .”

Her mom rushed across the room and enfolded her in her arms. “I think I know what's wrong.”

“You do?” Willow practically squeaked. Had someone told her mom she'd been in Ashton's arms at the end of their street? Or worse, had she figured out the identity of their ghost?

“You know how much Daddy would've enjoyed having a Halloween party here.”

Willow slumped back against the counter. Picturing her dad's excited face made it hard to speak. “He would've . . . totally . . . loved it.” She swallowed and then offered a small smile. “I bet he'd be sketching jack-o'-lantern designs . . .”

“. . . And painting life-sized murals of the headless horseman,” Mom finished for her.

“Exactly.” Her dad would've loved the atmosphere of this place, seen it as a blank canvas. He also would've been the first one to offer Ashton a place to stay after his release. Willow's smile melted as she stared into her mom's glistening gaze. “Mom, I need to tell you some—”

The doorbell echoed through the house, making both of them jump. Saved by the . . . gong. “I'll get it,” Willow said as she jogged out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into the foyer. When she cracked open the door, she was met by Lisa's wide blue eyes.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No!” She threw the door open. “Why?”

“You didn't return my calls all weekend!”

“I texted you,” Willow responded lamely.

“With two-word answers!” Lisa pushed her way into the house. “I started to worry Brayden had roofied your hot cocoa and dragged you to his evil lair.”

Willow winced. “Sorry. Introvert habits die hard. I just had a lot on my mind.” She grabbed her backpack off the stairs. “Mom! I'm leaving!” Confession time would have to wait.

Out on the porch, Lisa glanced at Willow and then did a double take. “You're using the eye shadow I gave you.”

Willow shrugged. “Yeah, it's fun to play around with the colors.”

They reached the street, and she stared over her shoulder at the third floor. Had Ashton left for school yet? He must walk the motorcycle halfway down the block before starting it so Mom won't hear. What if he offered her a ride to school? Would she wrap her arms around his waist as she settled in behind him? Their bodies pressed together, his scent filling her with every breath . . . the rumble of the bike vibrating through her veins . . . wind flowing through her hair . . .

“Holy cow! What is that dreamy look on your face? Did you spend the whole weekend with Brayden? Is that why you didn't call?”

“No!” Willow walked faster. “We barely had a date.”

“Oh, I see.” Lisa caught up to her and hooked her arm through Willow's. “Tall, dark, and dangerous, right? Spill the deets.”

So she did. All of it—from her interrupted date to Ashton threatening the kid in Gino's to their almost kiss in the street. The only parts she left out were the private things Ashton had shared with her about his time in juvie and that he was staying in the house.

For the first time since she'd known Lisa, she was silent. As they walked into the school lot, Willow unhooked their arms and turned to stare at her friend's stunned face. “So, what do I do?”

Lisa blinked at her. “About what?”

“About my mom, about Ashton, Brayden . . .”

“Well, if I were you . . . and I'm not gonna lie, I kinda wish I was . . .”

Her words were drowned out by a thunderous roar. Ashton passed within two feet of them and glanced over his shoulder, his eyes meeting Willow's for an intense, fleeting moment that had her toes curling in her Mary Janes. Then he was gone.

“That . . .” Lisa sighed. “I'd do
that
.”

“Lisa!” Willow half cried, half laughed.

“You asked.” Her brows arched, unapologetic.

Maybe Lisa was right. Fighting her growing feelings for Ashton was exhausting. Maybe she just needed to give in and see where it would take them. But could she trust him? There was so much she still didn't know about his past, about his real intentions for returning to Gilt Hollow.

“Looks like Bohemian Barbie might have the same idea.”

Willow followed Lisa's line of sight to where Ashton walked across the parking lot with the golden-haired Penelope glued to his side. A bitter lump slid down Willow's throat and burned in her stomach. Was that where Ashton had been all weekend? Had he run to Penelope after they'd almost kissed? Stayed at her house? Pain squeezed Willow's chest. She lengthened her stride. You couldn't find anyone more opposite to Willow than Penelope
freaking
Lunarian. If that's what he wanted, more power to him. “Whatever,” Willow spat as the couple disappeared into the building.

“Hey.” Lisa bumped her shoulder. “Slow your roll, girly. They're just walking together.”

“Mmm.” Willow couldn't share that Ashton had been missing all weekend without telling Lisa that he was living on their third floor. But she decided to rein in her assumptions all the same. She'd never been driven by emotion, and she didn't plan to start now.

As they entered a side door, Willow pushed down the
lingering prickle of jealousy and forced herself to focus on Lisa as she chatted about a boy in her math class whom she'd texted all weekend.

“What about Colin?” Willow asked, referring to Lisa's crush and her fantasies of them double-dating the Martin cousins.

“After the way Colin talked to you this weekend, are you kidding me?” Lisa propped a hand on her hip. “Not even his Thor-like hair is worth that ‘tude.”

Willow laughed and glanced over to see the kid from Gino's lugging a tuba case half his size into the band room. The sight sobered her instantly. The sousaphone section of the marching band was a tight group. Crossing over age and social status, they spent tons of time together. And she was almost positive that Isaiah Kagawa played the sousaphone.

Before she could complete the thought, Ashton walked up beside her. “Spend all weekend organizing your underwear drawer, Lamott?”

Her cheeks flamed. Their history gave him unfair insight into her freakish tactile processing habits. The first time being after she'd flunked a fifth-grade science test and locked herself in their basement craft room. She'd ordered hundreds of old photos in sequence and glued them in scrapbooks, refusing to come out until her dad had sent Ashton to tap on the narrow window and make funny faces at her. His threat to moon her had finally pulled her out of her trance. Now she'd kind of pay to see that.

After her cheeks cooled, she dared a glance in his direction. “You make me insane, you know that?”

A smile hovered around his lips and his blue eyes sparkled like sunlight reflecting off the deepest sea. Her heart flipped in her chest as he leaned in close.

“What I'd really like to know . . . is if you cataloged them by style or color first . . .”

“Shut. Up!” She hauled back and punched him in the arm, only to yank back stinging knuckles. He hadn't even flinched. As he walked ahead through a narrow doorway, she let her gaze flow over him—half-laced boots, snug-fitting cargo pants, royal blue T-shirt pouring like water over his wide shoulders to the indentation of his bicep. With his lean-muscled build, he looked like an action figure, and after what he'd told her about the culture in juvie, she imagined that was deliberate.

They turned into the senior hall to find a crowd gathered around the first bank of lockers on the left. Approaching the edge of the group, Lisa asked, “What's going on?”

“Isaiah's locker . . .” a girl muttered, the first bell cutting off her voice.