Page 99 - My FlipBook

T R A I L O F C R U M B S

“But Ash”—she grabbed his arm as he turned away—
“don’t leave me alone with him. Ever.”
“Okay.” He opened his mouth and closed it again,
watching her face.
“I mean it.” She didn’t let go. “If I have to go to the bath-
room, you’re standing outside that door.”
“You think—?” He started to say more but stopped
himself. “Okay. I’ll stay with you.”

Greta gathered her stuff from the bathroom and emptied
her drawers into a suitcase. Ash took even less time, clearing
his things from a shelf in the storage room into a cardboard
box with one swoop of his arm. He went upstairs first.
Greta stood at the base of the staircase, one hand on the
doorknob and the other around her suitcase handle. She
looked over the suite, wondering if there was anything else

she needed or some keepsake she wanted with her. A bad
taste settled in her throat. Everything bore the taint of Patty,
from the faint scent of her cigarettes to the memory of her
shouting at them for playing near her hideous porcelain-dog
collection. A mark attached to everything.
She’d told Ash the truth when she’d said it didn’t shock
her that Roger had left. Like how she knew, at least one time
per winter, their car wasn’t going to start. She didn’t want it
to happen, but it didn’t surprise her. She gripped the door-

knob tighter. But seven years. Seven years he’d made excuses
for Patty’s anger, tried to make them share the blame in her
tornado of drama. They’d been kids—imperfect, noisy, messy.
He’d played middle man between a wolf and two sheep,

89