The Dead and the Dark(30)

She saw him in her room. She remembered their last conversation, standing across the room from each other, and her chest ached. She wished she could undo that last moment, unspool it all and try again.

She needed to change the subject.

“It’s not just Tristan stuff. I feel kinda bad about how we’re all treating that new family,” Ashley said. She stared intently into the stitching on the arm of her chair, ignoring the way her mother turned to look at her. Tammy’s eyes raked over her, cool as ice. It was the signature intensity that had always served Barton women well.

“Oh, the Ortizes.”

“Yeah. Ortiz-Woodley, actually,” Ashley clarified. “I think they hyphenate it.”

Tammy made a soft hmm. She glanced down at her book. “You think I’m being mean? If you knew them better, you’d understand.”

“How do you know them?”

Tammy said nothing. Ashley didn’t know much about the Ortiz-Woodleys, but Logan herself didn’t seem to know much about them, either. Everyone else in Snakebite had some kind of ancient vendetta against the two men—and by extension, Logan—but no one was willing to explain it. It was an old thing, dormant and quiet and unmoving.

“You know, I read an article a while back about people like the daughter,” Tammy continued as though she hadn’t been asked a question. She leaned back in her chair and looked out over the gray lake. “Studies say they usually turn out just fine, actually. Totally normal. I thought the lack of balance at home would make it hard for them to grow up right. But the article said they’re like those plants that grow in the dark. Resilient.”

She said resilient with a punch in her voice, like Logan was a soldier marching against her oppressively gay fathers.

“I don’t know,” Ashley said. “She seems fine. I’ve barely met her dads.”

Tammy shook her head. She cupped her mug of coffee and faced the wind off the lake with her eyes closed. She got like this sometimes when she was pulled into a memory so strong it briefly replaced reality. It was the face she made when she talked about Ashley’s father. It was the face she made when she talked about learning ranch work from Grandma Addie. And now it was the face she made when she thought of the Ortiz-Woodleys.

“You’re better off,” Tammy said. “I don’t believe in curses, but those two are a curse. They were when they lived here before, they are now, they always will be. I swear, everything they touch just falls apart. I wouldn’t be surprised if more of you kids went missing before they leave.”

“Mom…” Ashley breathed.

“I wish I was being dramatic.” She inhaled, sharp and sudden. “If I were you, I’d stay away from that family altogether. Even if the daughter’s normal, it’s not worth it. They’re poison. I don’t know why we keep letting them back in.”

“You told her dad you’d be nice.”

“I said I’d be nice to the girl,” Tammy clarified, purposefully not saying Logan’s name. “And Alejo knows me well enough to know that ignoring them is me being nice.”

Ashley nodded. She wanted to ask how he knew her well enough, but she didn’t press. She stared into the swirling surface of her tea and the hibiscus scent made her eyes water. Maybe her mother was right. The moment the Ortiz-Woodleys arrived, Snakebite had become a bitter, guarded thing. Ever since they’d arrived, the shadows had teeth. Even brunch felt tainted.

“Did they do something?” Ashley asked.

Tammy didn’t look at her. “Yes. Sort of.”

The lake rippled in the sunlight. The sky was wide and bright, but today it felt like a lie. An illusion of Snakebite from a time when it was simpler.

“I don’t want you to worry.” Tammy smiled. She took Ashley’s hand and squeezed. “Snakebite’s tougher than you’d think. They’ll leave, or we’ll spit them out all over again.”

Ashley nodded. She carefully ran her finger along the arm of her chair. “Did you guys used to hang out at the cabin when you were my age?”

Tammy blinked. “The cabin?”

“Yeah. There’s this cabin on the other side of the lake. It looks like it’s been there forever.” Ashley traced the floral design on the side of her mug. “Just wondering if you guys ever used to hang out there.”

Tammy was quiet.

“Me and the others hang out there sometimes.”

“I know of it.”

Ashley’s eyes widened. “Okay, cool. I was just wondering if you’d ever seen anyone there, or…”

“Or?”

“Or if you know who owns it?”

“My friends and I never ‘hung out’ there because it didn’t exist when I was your age,” Tammy said. “The cabin wasn’t built until I was … twenty-four? Maybe twenty-five?”

“Wait, really?” Ashley sat up straight. “It looks ancient.”

“I don’t know what to tell you about that. But I’d really rather you kids not mess around out there.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Ashley ran fingers through the end of her ponytail. “Someone must’ve built it, though. Whose is it?”

Tammy took a long drink of coffee, eyes trained on the lake. For a moment, Ashley thought she wouldn’t answer. The cabin would be just another secret Ashley didn’t deserve. But Tammy set down her mug and shook her head. “The cabin is mine.”