One Tiny Lie (Ten Tiny Breaths, #2)(89)
“But . .. ” I turn to take in his mother’s home. “He’ll transfer her from here to that awful place . . .”
“This is a new place, Irish. I moved my mom here a week ago.” A strange grin transforms Ashton’s face—a mixture of elation and relief and giddiness. It only amplifies his suddenly teary eyes.
“I don’t . . . I don’t get it.” My heart has gone from breaking into pieces to now galloping and skipping over beats with anticipation. I know that he’s hinting at something profound but I don’t know what and I need to, now. “Tell me what’s going on, Ashton.”
His expression turns somber. “I ended things with Dana. I realized that my life wasn’t the only one being ruined in this mess anymore.” A flash of pain crosses his eyes with a memory. “I saw the empty look on your face when you walked down the stairs and out the door that day. It destroyed me. After that, I did the only thing I could do. I went to see Coach. He’s . . . I’ve always envied Reagan for having a dad like that. Well, Coach cracked a bottle of Hennessy and I told him everything.” His words bring me back to my night of confession with Kacey and tequila. It’s kind of funny that we were doing the exact same thing at the exact same time . . . “Coach demanded that I stay with them for a few days until we could sort things out. Sure enough, my phone was ringing off the hook on Monday morning, my dad telling me to fix it with Dana or else. I bought myself some time, telling him that I was trying. Meanwhile, Coach and I started contacting friends of his—lawyers, doctors, Princeton alumni—looking for a way around my dad’s legal control over my mother, a way to get her somewhere safe. It didn’t look like we were going to get anywhere. I was sure I was trapped.” A wry smirk touches his lips. “And then Dr. Stayner showed up on Coach’s doorstep four days later.”
My eyes widen with shock. “What? How?” Four days later . . . That means he literally left me in Miami and flew to New Jersey.
“Apparently he tracked down Coach, figuring he’d find me that way.”
Of course. “I . . .” I heave a sigh, feeling guilty for divulging so much of Ashton’s personal life. “I’m sorry. I told him things about you when I was in Miami. I needed to get it all out. I didn’t ever think he would come here.” Why didn’t I think he would do that?
Ashton shushes me with a finger against my lips. “It’s okay. Really. It’s . . . more than okay. In fact, it has made everything okay.” Ashton’s head shakes as he laughs. “That guy is something else. He has a way of getting information out of you—you know you’re being interrogated but in a friendly way. I’ve never seen Coach defer to anyone like he did with Stayner.”
Rolling my eyes, I can’t help but giggle. “I know exactly what you mean.”
“In four hours—no lie, Irish, four hours—the guy had a full rundown of my past and my situation. He made a bunch of phone calls to colleagues.” Nodding his head toward the house, Ashton explains, “The director of this place is a very good friend of his. He lined up a room.” He smiles sadly. “They don’t think she has too much longer now. Maybe another year or two. Her old place was nicer, but it didn’t make sense for her to be there anymore, with the expensive treatment and therapy. Nothing is going to bring her back. I’ve accepted that. She just needs a place where she’s safe and comfortable. She needs peace now.”
“Stunned” cannot adequately describe how I feel right now. I am bursting with emotion—a volcanic mixture of happiness and sadness and adoration—adoration for that insane doctor of mine who has somehow brought another person that I love back to me. I don’t bother to wipe the fresh set of tears as I frown, still working to make sense of everything.
“But how did you get her moved her? How did your dad—”
Ashton’s burst of laughter cuts my words off. “Oh, Irish. That’s the best part.” He wipes a tear that runs down his nose as his gaze drifts off somewhere, thoughtful for a moment. “It’s shocking what some people are willing to do when they know they can get away with it. It’s even more shocking what they’ll do when they find out that they can’t. My dad’s been getting away with abusing me for sixteen years. And the day after Stayner arrived, him, me, and Coach drove right to my dad’s office to end it. I’ve never been more scared in my life. But the fact that I wasn’t alone in this anymore . . .” Ashton’s voice cracks, and my heart cracks with it.
I pull him against me, squeezing my arms as tight as I can. I want to hear the rest. I need to. But for just a moment, I need to hold Ashton close to me as I come to terms with all of this. I may have lost my parents years ago, but I’ve had memories of a loving childhood to battle against the loss. Ashton has carried nothing but darkness and loathing. And the burden of protecting a woman who doesn’t even remember the little boy she once smothered with love.
“My dad is a powerful man. He’s not used to anyone telling him what to do. So when Stayner strolled into his office—uninvited—and took a seat in my dad’s chair . . .” Ashton chuckles softly. “It was like something out of a movie. Stayner calmly laid out the facts—the abuse, the manipulation, the downright scandalous blackmail. He didn’t dwell on it, he didn’t curse, or yell, or anything. He made sure that my father was fully aware of what he knew, what Coach knew. And then Stayner placed a note with this address on it on his desk and informed my dad that a room had been secured, that we would be transferring my mother here, that he would be maintaining the bills, and that she was not to leave this facility until the day she left her body.”