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“Shut up and listen,” he said, unfazed. “When you and Knox started going out, dad pulled me and Robbie into his office one day. We thought we were in trouble for sneaking a bottle of Jack from the bar. But, as it turns out, he wanted to talk about you.
“He said that with you getting older Robbie and I needed to step up and really watch out for you. Dad was always gone, you know? Business trips and vacations with mom, he was always so busy. But he told us that we needed to protect you. Not because he didn’t think you could handle yourself, but because you were the baby. You were his little girl and, in a way, you were ours, too.
“Ashfords might not always have the best way of sorting out our problems or dealing with our own shit, Abby. But if there’s one thing we can all agree on it’s keeping you safe and happy. Yes, maybe I went overboard that day at Robbie’s, I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
I stared at Logan for a minute. I couldn’t put my finger on the exact moment it happened, but somewhere along the way my brother turned into a man. A real man and not some little punk that was once taken home by the police on a Thursday afternoon for spray painting a penis on the school principal’s car.
“Just give him a chance. Please? Trust me.”
Logan eventually held up one finger and sighed. “One. He gets one chance and if he fucks up he’s getting fucked up.”
I threw myself at him. “I love you too much, Lo.”
“Probably.”
“Let’s go find Robbie and sort out our shit the Ashford way.”
I stood up in front of him, blocking his path. “Hold up a second. Lo, I don’t want to push you to talk about anything but… you don’t have a problem, do you? Like, a serious one? You know if you do I’ll help you in any way that I can.”
He laughed and put his hands on my shoulders. “You don’t have anything to worry about, Abby. Promise. When I’m ready to talk about it you’ll be the first person I come to.”
I wanted to push him, I really did. I wanted him to tell me what the hell was going on and why he disappeared for days at a time. But I trusted Logan. When he was ready to tell me what was going on, he would. I just needed to have faith in that.
One week later I had the invitations mailed, the venue booked and a smoking hot date. Robbie, Logan and I had planned the whole anniversary party with minimal arguments and only one small tiff with our father and were set to make it the bash of the summer. Even Caleb’s boss caught wind of it and demanded he do an article centering around the whole family.
Plus, I was getting rather good at the whole self defense thing. Even Greasy Haired Tom was impressed with me. I was working out every day and rarely at Robbie’s and it felt good to be so busy.
On my rare night alone I walked around the house bored out of my mind. I refused to spend my night watching Knox at the gym and Simone was working on some new pieces.
What was a girl to do?
I finally decided that the night was so beautiful I couldn’t not take a walk on the beach. I pulled on an old pair of cut off shorts and shrugged into Knox’s Fitzgerald Boxing hoodie and made my way down to the beach, enjoying a beer as I walked along the shore. The water was cool against my bare feet and the summer breeze wrapped around me like an old friend.
It had been so long since I felt this okay. I felt carefree and relaxed and it made me wonder why I ever left my small town in the first place. But, somewhere along the way, I decided that being home was exactly the right decision. So right, in fact, that I made the conscious decision to officially move home. I was going to tell everyone tomorrow at the dinner party Simone was hosting at her shop and I was so excited. I couldn’t wait to see the look on Knox’s face when I told him and I knew my brothers would be thrilled that they no longer had to take a road trip to visit their little sister. Simone would burst
into tears and bring out the champagne.
I couldn’t wait.
Draining my beer, I headed back to the house to pick out an outfit for tomorrow and give Simone a call. The attack and the stalker seemed like a lifetime ago, things were going so well and I could start a new life. I could leave all the bad and ugly in the past and get back to my roots.
I jogged up the steps onto the back porch and headed towards the door, humming under my breath. If it hadn’t been for the fact that I was looking down I would have stepped on the wrapped box and note on the welcome mat.
My heart nearly stopped and dread settled in the pit of my stomach. Telling myself to breathe, I looked around quickly, turning in circles to no avail. But there was no one there. I was completely alone. Bending down, I picked up the box with shaking fingers, my anxiety rising by the millisecond.
This is not happening, I thought. Just breathe, Abbigail. Breathe.
I couldn’t. Every time I tried to take a breath it got stuck in my throat. My chest was aching. I opened the note first and it read, “For you, my love” in the same neat, cursive print that was far too familiar. Even more familiar now, for whatever reason.
I shouldn’t have opened the box, I shouldn’t have even touched it. But I untied the silk ribbon and opened it anyway, trying to prepare myself for whatever was inside. Taking the top off, I let out a harsh breath that ended on a whimper, dropping the box to the deck and stepping back.
A dead, decapitated mouse lay on the inside of the box with dark, almost black blood staining the interior.
My stomach churned and bile quickly rose up my throat. I barely made it to the railing before heaving up everything in my system. Fear raced through me and ignited my veins and I was shaking so hard my teeth chattered.
Dread swamped me.
I wanted to scream.
