“Why do you think?” She throws her hands up. “I just want you to be friends, at least. You have so much in common.”

“Yeah?” I’m closing off, putting up my defenses, and I can’t help myself. “Like what?”

“You’ve both been hurt by the same person.”

I stiffen. I don’t want to hear this. “I’m sorry if Ash’s been blaming himself for the accident, but you can’t compare that to what happened to me and Mom.”

“That’s not what I mean.” She sucks in a deep breath and gets up. Her high-heeled boots leave deep imprints in my fluffy carpet. “I just thought you might want to know why Ash never answered your calls or called you back.”

That gets my attention. “Why, then?”

Now she hesitates. That’s weird. She’s the one who wants to tell me, and it’s as if I’m pressing her for an answer.

“I feel like an old busybody telling you this,” she finally mutters, “but I know Ash would never tell you. His father beats him. I think it’s been happening for many years now. He never talks about it, but I gathered as much from Zane.”

Holy crap. The words slowly sink in, like hooks of ice. Cold seeps into my chest. “How long?”

“Not sure. Long before the accident.”

“I didn’t know.” He never told me. I never noticed. And he was my friend.

“You know now.”

Tess looks pissed. Is she mad at me? Is she right to be?

I try to remember Ash as he was that long ago. Bruised? Of course he was bruised most of the time. He couldn’t keep out of fighting and...

Oh no. It suddenly hits me how easy it had been to blame the bruises on the fighting. How nobody ever thought his dad had been the one to put at least some of them there.

I breathe past the knot of panic in my chest. “What does this have to do with Ash not calling me back?”

Tessa nails me with her gaze. “That night he left from here, his father beat him up real bad. Ash took off and left his phone at his dad’s house. That’s why he never got your calls. Zane found Ash and took him home with him.”

Jesus. “Is he okay?”

Tessa shrugs.

The knot in my chest gets bigger. I stand up as well, my body vibrating with tension. “I didn’t know all this.”

“Well, you do know. What are you going to do about it?”

She throws it as a challenge and before I can think of an answer, she picks up her purse. “I’m going home. Call me if you want to talk.”

I nod, numb, and watch her go.

Is this the reason why he became so distant, so violent back then? Why he pushed me away?

Why didn’t he tell me about it? Didn’t he think I’d stand by his side?

And now that I know... What am I going to do about it? Good question. What can I do? What do I want to do?

I sit back down. Ash.

My nightmare’s coming back—Ash in the car with me, Ash dying, and my fear that something has happened to him.

Something did happen to him, and the fear is back, fresh and biting.

I have to see him, if only to convince myself he’s fine.

***

Making the decision isn’t enough. I have to go through with it. But every time I pick up the phone, I hesitate. What if Ash doesn’t want to see me? What can I tell him? How can we repair a relationship that has been broken for so long?

Tessa’s words still echo in my ears. His father beat him real bad... My blood is like ice in my veins.

I lift my cell. He was there for me when those guys attacked me. He took care of me. He didn’t hesitate one second.

I call Tessa.

“Hey.” She sounds kinda distant, and I hate thinking it’s because of me, but one thing at a time. “That was quick. Not even two hours.”

“I need to talk to Ash.”

“Yeah.” Her voice breaks. “Yes, you do.”

I frown. “What’s wrong, Tess? Are you all right?”

She’s silent for a beat—a beat too long. “Sure, I’m fine.”

I swallow. “Have you had a row with your parents?”

“Yeah.”

“What did they say this time?”

“Nothing new. Just how I’m wasting my life and whoring my way through college. About how I should get back with Sean. The usual stuff.”

“Gosh, I’m so sorry.” Tessa’s parents are a piece of work. Rich and arrogant, they won’t let her breathe without their input. As for Sean—Tess has told me bits and pieces. An ex-boyfriend, and apparently an absolutely douche. She once said he hurt her, forced her, but never explained how. The more information I tried to get out of her, the more she clammed up. “Want to talk about it?”

“Nah. Not now.” She always says that. “Just call Zane and visit Ash. Do it, Aud.”

She makes a sniffling sound and my heart drops.

“I will,” I say. “And then tomorrow you and I will have coffee and talk, okay?”

“Can’t. I’m going home for Christmas. When’s your mom coming over?”

“She isn’t.” I sigh. “Then we’ll talk on the phone, okay?” Now I’m the one begging for her time. Serves me right.

“Kay.” She sniffles again. “Let me know how it goes.”

I clutch the phone harder. “Okay, that’s it. I’m coming over. You can cry on my shoulder and we can have some more cocoa—”

“No. I...” She blows her nose. “Not tonight, Aud. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” I hope I haven’t pushed her so far she’ll never be friends with me again. “We’ll talk.”

I disconnect and sit on my bed. I’m not sleepy; too wired with nerves. I suck in a deep breath. Now or never.

My fingers shake as I scroll for Zane’s cell number. I’ll ask him if I can visit Ash tomorrow afternoon, after class.

Of all my worries of the day, I never expect Zane to be the real issue. It turns out he’s hesitant to have me over for a visit.

“I don’t know, Audrey...”

I blink in the silence that follows. “Zane. I won’t stay long. Just want to talk to Ash.”

“Yeah, about that.” He sighs. “Maybe it’s not such a good idea.”

Um. “Why not?”

“Ash is like a brother to me. He’s been through a lot and doesn’t need your attitude.”

Okay. A dozen angry retorts rise to my lips—you’re worried about him? What about me? And what about the fact he let me down first? Or that his father killed mine?—but I can’t get a single one out, because... Because they make me sound selfish. I have been selfish and I’m trying to get over that.

“I just need to know.” I rub my eyes. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. I don’t—”

“Tessa told me what happened. I swear I had no idea his dad’s such an ass.”

“Not many people do,” Zane replies stiffly. “Ash wouldn’t want them to.”

“I understand.”

“I’ll tell him you called.”

“Please let me come over, Zane.”

“Why?”

Right. “I blamed him for everything. And he knows it. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Zane snorts. “And now you want to apologize?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe isn’t enough. I understand why you blamed him. But if you’re not sure you feel differently now, then...”

I wait. “Then what?”

He grunts. “I was going to say stay away from him, but that’s what Dylan told him concerning you, and I won’t. I’m not his keeper; just his friend.”

Dylan told Ash that? Holy crap. “Does that mean I can come over?”

Zane swears under his breath. “If you promise you’ll play nice...”

“Promise. Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, tomorrow afternoon, because tomorrow evening I’m going out of town and I’m not leaving Ash alone with you.”

Ouch. I guess I deserve that. “See you around six.”

***

In the end, I don’t go alone: I end up heading there with Dakota. The moment she hears I’m going over to Zane’s, she clings to me like a leech and insists on tagging along.

Which is weird. Does she have a thing about Zane?

More like an obsession, a thing that becomes obvious the moment Zane answers the door, his Mohawk dyed now a dark blue. A long-sleeved blouse hides the colorful tattoos on his arms.

He arches his pierced eyebrow at us.

“Hi Zane.” Dakota waves, a huge grin on her face. “I’m a friend of Audrey’s, nice to meet you.”

God, can she get any more obvious? I’m mortified for her sake.

But Zane only seems amused by this development, a corner of his mouth lifting. “Come on in, girls.” He gives me a hard look as I enter but says nothing more.

The apartment is quiet, the living room with its framed drawings and big black sofa empty. I glance around, hoping to see Ash, but he isn’t there.

Dakota doesn’t seem to recall the reason we’ve come over. She grabs my hand and drags me over to a framed print of one of Zane’s drawings.

“This is amazing,” she gushes. “See how bold the lines are, and how subtle the coloring? He’s a genius. Oh my god, I’m dying to get one.”

“Girl, you’re full of tattoos already,” I say, distracted. Where the hell is Ash? Did he leave when he found out I was coming over?

“You like ink?” Zane comes to stand next to her, interest in his dark gaze. He sucks on the barbell in his tongue. It’s distracting.

“You’re a god,” Dakota says and I roll my eyes. “I’ve been saving money to come to your shop and get an ink done.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Apparently she doesn’t even need to think about it. “A dragon tat. Like the ones you did for your gang.”

The light goes out of Zane’s slanted eyes. They go flat in an instant. “Who told you about the tats?”

She shrugs. “I’ve seen Rafe’s. He plays in my band.”

“Out of the question,” Zane grates. “That kind of tat isn’t for you. Find something else.”

Dakota bites her lip. “You don’t know me. How can you tell if it’s not for me?”

Okay, this conversation is way over my head. I’m not sure what they were really talking about, and I have other things on my mind right now.

“Show me your ink,” Zane says.

And just like that, Dakota starts to undress, pulling her turquoise blouse over her head.

Whoa.

I step back, leaving them to their thing. I turn around—and freeze.

Ash is there, leaning against the doorjamb, watching me from hooded eyes, arms folded over his broad chest. His dark hair falls to his forehead in shiny strands. I remember how soft it felt against my fingers when he carried me.

His lips part and I try to tear my gaze away when he moves. His pale blue eyes keep me still, but I don’t see anger there. Only wariness and curiosity.

It’s then I notice the dark bruises along his jaw and under his eye. There’s also a stiffness in the way he moves that brings a lump to my throat.

He walks past me to the long, black sofa and I’m left staring at his strong back and cute ass, my mind blank.

Jesus, Audrey. I look away, my face heating.

“What do you want?” Ash asks, his voice low and hard. Ah, there’s the anger I missed in his eyes.

“To see you.”

He sits down and looks away.

I make myself move. I step to the other end of the sofa and sit down. I feel like I had when I played a theater part during elementary school. Stage fright.