Phoenix Reborn (Woodland Creek)(3)

And she’d always liked him for it; after all, a shy girl’s greatest ally was a friendly boy. It didn’t hurt, either, that he was handsome, even then. Over time, though she’d never expressed the words out loud, her feelings for him had developed into something like first love. Each day she’d anticipated seeing him at school, her young heart fluttering whenever he walked into the room. Days when he was away sick always felt as though something had been temporarily removed from her being.

He had been her hero, that boy who was so attentive and so caring. Her saviour. And for a time, he’d seemed fond of her, too.

Adults always said that children and teenagers didn’t understand love. But Ashling had been convinced otherwise during those years. In truth, she had cared deeply for Hawke in spite of her youth. And never had she felt that way about anyone since. She’d had boyfriends; she’d experienced the pleasures of sexual intimacy. But no man had caused her heart to dance in her chest as he had.

And so, when things had gone south on that infamous night so long ago, her withdrawal from her peers and from society had broken her heart. Because she’d lost him too. As she’d done with everyone else, she’d pushed him away, retreated from him, from herself, from everything.

She would never forget the moment when Hawke had seemed to realize that they were no longer to be friends. From across a crowd she’d seen him looking at her, his eyes sad, confused, questioning. And she’d known that he felt it, as the others did it. Fear, disgust. Loathing.

She knew then that he would never come and sit with her again. And soon after that he’d gotten his first acting job, which had meant that he had moved away from Woodland Creek. That was the last that Ashling had seen of him.

And now, after years, there was no hope of reigniting that friendship. A girl who could do what she’d done tended not to have a great number of friends — particularly not famous ones.

As the memories reeled in her mind, Ashling remembered that Ranach had just spoken.

“Hawke is coming here?” she said, her heart accelerating in her chest. “Why on earth would he even be in Woodland Creek?”

“Well, he was born in this town, after all. Even movie stars like to visit their families.”

“Yes, but he can afford to fly them anywhere in the world. Surely…”

“Perhaps he simply misses the place. I know that I would, if I were gone for a long time.”

For years she’d avoided reading about Hawke in newspapers or looking him up, not wanting to know what it was that she’d lost in that fateful moment eight years earlier.

But for whatever reason, he’d been on her mind of late. And the film that she’d watched had been her link to him; a reminder of another era. Watching it had brought on painful memories, but it had also satisfied a long-developing curiosity. She’d heard, of course, that he was doing incredibly well. And a part of her was proud of him for it, for getting out of Woodland Creek and for carving such a name for himself onto the world’s consciousness.

And she’d discovered that as well as everything else that he’d become, Hawke had grown into an incredibly handsome young man, his dark hair still thick and unruly, his face expressive, lips kissable, not to mention apparently sought after by every Hollywood starlet.

One scene in particular had caused Ashling to hit the pause button, her heart once again surging inside her chest just as it had done in her younger years. In the scene he’d been standing in a bedroom, shirtless, wearing only boxer shorts. His abdomen had looked as though it had seen more workouts than most Navy Seals. He was, without a doubt, a thing of exquisite beauty, and for a moment she’d wondered how life might have been different, if only…

If only so many things had never happened. Too many to count.

“You and he were quite close at one point, were you not?” asked her mentor, raising an eyebrow inquisitively, as though in the midst of reading her thoughts. As always, Ashling felt certain he already knew the answer to his question. He was only asking to pull her out of the invisible shell that she used for armour.

“Close? Sure, when we were about twelve,” she said, avoiding any mention of the incident that had occurred during her teen years — the incident that had ensured that her social life would come to an abrupt and painful end. “It’s not like we’re in touch now.”

“Well, you will be back in touch soon enough. He’s on his way over.”

“What? When? Why?” Ashling found herself wondering how much of the studio’s dust and grime had settled on her face. God, she must look awful. She was suddenly sorry to have worn an old pair of torn jeans and a dark grey sweatshirt that she’d owned in high school. But then, if Hawke was like most men, he would remain oblivious to her choice of wardrobe, and likely wouldn’t be any the wiser if her face weren’t immaculately clean.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was coming over?” she asked, wiping her forehead with a ratty sleeve.

“Because if I know you at all, I can predict when you might panic — as you’re doing now. As for your other question, he’ll be here at any second.”

And, as if on cue, the doorbell rang.

“Well? Aren’t you going to answer it?” asked Ranach, smiling sweetly. Ashling glared at him before taking the few steps to the door. Cruel, cruel mentor. There was no doubt in her mind that he’d somehow orchestrated this deliberately. Though what his motivation was, she couldn’t guess. Ranach was a lot of things, but he wasn’t generally sadistic.