When we got home, Ash tried fobbing me off again as I insisted I look at his wound, but I didn’t give in. Once in the bathroom he sat on the floor, leaning against the tub as I fetched bandages and first-aid supplies from the cabinet under the sink. I dabbed an antiseptic-soaked cotton bud on the gash, holding firm as he winced and cursed under his breath.
“It’s a neat cut and there’s nothing in it,” I said. “Barely an inch and not as deep as I thought. You don’t need stitches. I’ll use these strips instead.”
“Good, because I’m not going to the hospital. I’ve had enough people poking me with needles to last a lifetime.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
“Look who’s talking. You fell off your bicycle and refused to see a doctor.”
“My accident,” I said with a gasp, willing him to go on, to recall everything.
“We were outside,” he said slowly. “You skidded on the gravel and cut your leg when you crashed into Dad’s garden shovel. It was my fault. I’d left it lying on the ground, and it made a really deep gash, right here.” He leaned in, reached out and touched my calf with the tip of his finger, making my skin tingle. My breath became shallow as I watched him furrow his brow in concentration, almost as if doing so would make more memories flow from my body to his.
I remembered the day, of course I did. I’d watched The Fast and the Furious again and pretended to be Letty because she was the most badass character I’d ever seen. I still had the result of my bicycle-drifting mishap on my leg, exactly where Ash had touched me, a smooth scar he’d always said looked like Lake Erie.
“I made you promise not to tell Mom because I didn’t want stitches,” I whispered, the excitement of something about the two of us coming back so intense, it almost made me want to throw up. I couldn’t lie, wouldn’t pretend he was mistaken or it wasn’t true. This memory was different. It was about him and me.
“Small things are coming back all the time,” Ash said. “I’m getting little glimpses here and there. I don’t tell you about all of them—”
“What?” I stared at him, blinking hard as my stomach lurched. “Why?”
“Because they might not be real. How many times have you told me I’m mistaken?”
“But you’ll only know if you ask me.”
“Or Lily,” he added.
“Yes, her, too,” I said, forcing a smile as the rest of my cheerfulness evaporated at the mention of her name. I couldn’t be happy while she and Keenan kept disrupting our lives and messing with Ash’s head. It was time to problem solve, tackle things full-on. “You’ll be okay, right? I have to go out for a while, but I won’t be long. You wash up and we can make dinner when we get back.”
“About that,” he said. “I invited Lily over.”
“That’s great,” I said, and before he had a chance to answer or see the expression on my face, I headed for the door. Once outside I got in my car and made the short trip to Keenan’s. He stood in the garage, his head bent over the engine of his car, a pack of tallboys by his feet, two discarded crumpled cans lying by an overflowing garbage can. When I got out of my car and he turned around, a smirk spread over his face.
“How’s the patient?” he said. “Bled to death yet?”
“Stay away from him, Keenan.”
“What is it with you women? First Fiona gives me a hard time, now you. He had it coming, he still does.”
“Stay away from Ash or—”
“Or what?” He waved his hands around in mock terror. “You and Ms. Hetherington are going to gang up on me? Help me. I’m scared.”
“Who?”
“Lily, your new BFF.” He raised his eyebrows and let out a long whistle. “So, you had no idea she changed her name? I did wonder...and tell you what, with her dubious past she’s the perfect match for your asshole of a stepbrother.”
I stared at him, watched his grin widen. “What are you talking about?”
“I guess being friends with Ricky has more than one advantage, but why don’t you google it. See what comes up.” He smirked even harder as he reached for his beer, winking at me before taking a long swig and giving me a wouldn’t you like to know grin, which made me want to stab him with his screwdriver. I ignored him and got back in my car, hands trembling as I shifted into Reverse. Before I got home, I pulled over and grabbed my phone, and as I plugged Lily Hetherington into the search engine, the anticipation of what I might find became almost unbearable.
It took a lot of digging, scrolling and patience, but after a few minutes, there it was—a mug shot from the night she’d been arrested, her mascara smudged in teary rivers down her translucent cheeks. I read article after article, my heart pounding with elation. Lily wasn’t the innocent little Snow White she liked to portray. She had a sleazy past, a rotten history—one I could, and would, use. Getting rid of her was going to be so easy now, it almost wasn’t fun.
Suppressing the urge to laugh out loud, I dialed the Cliff’s Head and asked for Patrick.
28
LILY
It was almost surreal how quickly things had changed over the past few days. As soon as the renovation supplies arrived the morning after we’d been to the beach, Ash and I got started
