Here’s the Thing (Seddledowne #4)

Chapter 9 – Ashton

nine

ASHTON

He felt that he must go, must leave that place at once.

— LEO TOLSTOY

N ow that my last class of the day was over, I could get down to the business of writing the chapter with Austen. She’d made a firm promise last night that we would get Jack and Raven together today.

I unlocked my office door and walked to my desk. My bag hit the ground with a thunk and I didn’t even bother to sit. Just bent over my chair and wiggled the mouse on my computer screen, excited to see the rough draft of her chapter waiting in my inbox.

Empty.

A low growl purred in my throat. I clicked on our chat screen.

Austentacious119: Sorry, Leggs, I’m struggling. But it will be written tonight! I promise to work on it all evening if need be .

I stood, hands propped on my hips, and let my head fall back in frustration.

“Knock, knock,” a quiet voice said. Tally. Even if I wouldn’t have recognized her soft, melodic voice anywhere, I’d still know it was her because she always announced herself in some way before walking in.

I looked over and gave her an all-business smile. I’d gotten pretty good at faking my emotions around her. Did I feel all business? Heck no. Not with the most beautiful woman I’d ever known standing there, her big doe eyes watching me nervously.

Her hair was super straight today, making it even longer than normal, hitting an inch or two above her waist. She had on a silky green button-up blouse with puffed sleeves, a pair of tight jeans, and ankle boots which only made her gorgeously long legs appear even longer. Her leather messenger bag which housed her laptop was slung over her shoulder crossbody style. That bag had been a graduation gift from the entire Dupree family. Mom had collected donations and given it to her the day she received her Bachelor of Arts in Writing. Tally clutched the strap for dear life. Man, she was gorgeous.

I gripped the top of the chair forcing myself to stay put.

She stood in the doorway, hesitating. “Is it okay if I come in?”

I winced at the question. She’d never asked permission before. But this was the first time she’d come to my office since the day I pawned her off on Professor Gibson. It felt like a decade ago.

“Of course.” I waved her in.

She stepped inside and, surprisingly, closed the door. Tally was a door-wide-open kind of person. Something about being in confined spaces made her uncomfortable. So, if she was okay being in here alone with me, I felt a little honored and a lot nervous .

This must be important.

I pulled up an extra seat and waved for her to take my cushy office chair.

“Oh, thanks.” She smiled and bounced a few times, testing it. My giant chair made her look thinner than she already was. Her feet were crossed at the ankles. It made me smile.

“What’s up? Did you have questions about the paper?”

Her shoulders lifted. “No. Three thousand words on Ferrante’s use of stream of consciousness and how it contributes to the portrayal of the protagonist's mental state,” she recited word for word. The girl was sharp. I’m not shallow. I wasn’t in love with her simply for her looks.

Her lips twisted. “I was hoping you could help me with something else I’m writing though?”

I nodded, even though the whole reason I’d stepped aside as her advisor was to remove this kind of low-key torture from my life. “Sure. I’d be happy to.”

She gave me a tentative smile before leaning down and pulling her laptop out of her bag. She flipped it open but all I could see was her pale blue computer case. Her eyes turned solemn, as they often did. I’d wondered a thousand times over the years why they could go so serious at any second. It niggled at me and I wished I could let it die. But I swear there was some sadness she didn’t talk about. I could feel it every now and then.

“Let me pull it up.” She tipped the screen towards her a touch. Her hands were shaking.

What was that about?

Tally was the poster child for She Doesn’t Know She’s Pretty. Her beauty was obvious, but there was a humility to her that made me check myself. Made me want to bow down to show my respect. Her writing though? That’s where she was self-assured. Most of the time, on the verge of cocky.

Right now, she looked anything but. If she didn’t ease up on her bottom lip, she would chew a hole through it. That would be a tragedy indeed. Her knees bounced under her laptop and I clasped my hands together to keep from reaching out to calm them.

Once she found what she was searching for, she sat up straight and looked at me. “Okay. Anna says you’re going to be cool about this. So I’m trusting that she knows what she’s talking about.” She shook out her hands like she couldn’t hold in the nerves. “Here’s the thing…” She paused like she was making sure she had my full attention. “Remember on your birthday when everyone was arguing about Spy vs Sigh?”

“Yes.” I felt a scowl creep over my face and a tightness overtake my stomach. That was my normal reaction whenever anyone brought up my book. But also, I had to bite the insides of my cheeks to keep from smiling. “Yeah. Of Course.”

She jammed her hands under her thighs. “Well, remember how upset Christy got because Javen still hasn’t done the hippity dippity?”

I snorted. “My mom started a trend with that word.” I shook my head. “And Javen still hasn’t done the hippity dippity.”

She giggled. “No. They haven’t.” Her face faded, completely serious now. She blew her breath out in an O. “And the reason they haven’t is because one of the authors can’t make herself write the scene.”

I stared at her, replaying her words. She said ‘one of the authors’ and referenced them in the feminine tense. It almost sounded like… “Wait. Are you saying that you know one of the authors of Spy vs Sigh ?”

Her shoulders dropped but her lips teased at a smile. “No, Ash.” She turned her laptop to face me, pride in her expression. “I am one of the authors.”

If I were a crash test dummy, her words were a brick wall .

My gaze shifted from her face to the computer screen and there in front of me was her Incognito homepage with the handle Austentacious119 in the upper right-hand corner. It looked exactly like my Incognito home screen, only with her name. She was watching me expectantly and I tightened every muscle in my body trying not to react before I knew what my reaction should be.

My mind was racing a million miles an hour. The first thought was that this was a prank. She thought it would be fun to trick me for a few minutes, see my reaction, and then say “Psych!” Everyone knew Austentacious119 was Leggolas1012’s collab partner and vice versa. Our handles weren’t hidden, just our true identities. It would be easy enough to do. But Tally wasn’t a game player. She detested drama. We might pick at each other and give each other the literary smackdown from time to time, but pranks? Not a single time.

So then my mind went to possibility number two. She was pretending to be Austen to get the glory. Kind of like Cinderella’s sisters trying to fit the glass slipper. But, again, Tally didn’t do things like that. She never tried to take more than she deserved and sometimes not even that. I couldn’t imagine her ever being happy capitalizing off someone else’s fame.

Another possibility: she’d found out that I was one of the authors and she was trying to pull it out of me. But if that were true, why not ask me straight out? Tally called my bluff anytime she got the chance. She prided herself in keeping me humble. If she suspected, she’d call me on it.

But looking at her right now—her big brown eyes so vulnerable and asking me not to laugh at her confession—I had to believe what she’d just told me.

And if it was true …

The rape confession that Austen had shared with me meant…

No.

I couldn’t believe that.

Someone had raped Tally? My Tally?

My mind took a backward leap to the first time I’d met her all those years ago. She’d been pregnant, and she’d had the wide-eyed expression of someone who was constantly waiting for somebody to come lunging out of the bushes, or from under the cupboards.

No, no, no.

My stomach rolled and it felt like the air had suddenly been vacuumed out of the room.

She’d placed that baby for adoption and had never spoken of her again. She’d never spoken of the guy who got her pregnant. Anna didn’t know anything about him. Said she thought he’d been Tally’s boyfriend from wherever the Hawkins lived before Seddledowne. But now that I thought about it, I knew very little about her life before. They’d lived in Montana. But what town? Did Anna even know? If she did, she’d never said anything. It’s like they just showed up one day and none of us ever questioned it. But that’s how we were raised. Duprees accepted people as they were, no questions asked.

My gaze roved over her now, looking for…what? Scars? Something to tell me if it was true? But rape didn’t leave an outward mark. And she just sat there, guarded.

I needed to make certain she was Austen before I jumped to any conclusions.

Eyes burning, I reached over and grabbed the armrest of her chair. Then I yanked her toward me, fighting not to pull her into my arms. Hug her so hard that it erased any pain she’d ever felt. Her eyes widened in surprise as the wheels rolled too fast. I caught the chair and settled her next to me so I could see the screen better.

Deep breath.

“You’re Austentacious119?” I asked, concentrating on making my voice steady. It cracked anyway. “I mean, I could see that. You’re an amazing writer.”

She looked over at me with watery eyes. “Just like that, you believe me?”

I shrugged and glanced away. If I kept looking at her, I was going to start crying. Weeping like a little boy. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I could be making it up,” her voice shook, a tell-tale sign that she was overwhelmed.

My hand curled into a fist against my thigh as I forced myself not to touch her. I shrugged again. “You’re going to prove it to me, right? Show me how you and that Leggolas guy write together?”

She nodded, blinking a few times. “Yeah. But Leggolas1012 is a mouthful. I just call him Leggs.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, my throat trying to close up. Austen always called me Leggs. Always.

She turned the laptop slightly so I could see better and clicked on the chat icon in the upper right corner.

And then our entire conversation thread for the last twenty-four hours filled the screen. Verbatim. Exactly how I remembered it.

My fingers gripped my knees and I was breathless. If I’d thought Tally getting engaged to Madden hurt, it was nothing compared to this.

“So…” I sucked in a ragged breath. “Why tell me ? Why do you think I can help?”

“Aside from the fact that you’re a professor of creative writing?” She laughed .

“Yeah. Why not ask a classmate? Or Professor Gibson.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes like that was the worst idea I’d ever had. “Because I need to write the scene and obviously…” Her laugh was stilted. “We have really good chemistry. I mean, that kiss outside of Capitol Cuts, was…wow.”

I should’ve been elated that she enjoyed the kiss. As it stood, it was the last thing I cared about.

“Our kiss was wow?” I asked slowly, calculated, each word carefully placed into the air so as not to let her know that I was on the verge of cracking. “I thought you were disgusted by it.”

“No.” She laughed but it sounded more like one of Christy’s half-crazed cackles. “Why would you think that?”

“Because.” I rubbed at the center of my breastbone, hoping to release some pressure. It did nothing. “You’ve hardly looked at me since.”

“That’s because….it doesn’t matter. But I wasn’t disgusted. My mind was just blown is all. I wasn’t expecting it to be so…” Her hands pressed against her cheeks. “I’m not here to talk about that. I’m here asking for your help. Is that okay?”

It wasn’t. I couldn’t write this scene with her. I could hardly see straight. I swallowed hard, tasting blood where I'd bitten the inside of my cheek, and pushed up to a slow, shaky stand. “Uh, I need to use the restroom real quick.” The boiling anger I felt at whoever did this to her made it sound almost mean. “I’ll be back in a minute…or five. Just…stay,” I ordered.

She stared up from my chair, looking startled and a little scared. I couldn’t fix it right then.

I walked out of the room and pulled the door shut behind me. Luckily, the men’s restroom was only fifty feet down the hall. By the time I made it, tears had leaked out of my eyes. Thankfully the hall was empty. When I got inside, I checked to make sure all the stalls were clear, then I locked the door behind me .

Filled with rage, I turned and punched the nearest object I could find. As my fist connected with the paper towel dispenser I simultaneously heard and felt a loud crack. The plastic box shattered on the edge, sending shards flying.

And then I broke.

I fell against the cinder blocks and let myself slide down the wall. By the time I reached the floor, I was sobbing. Chest heaving, tears streaming down my face. My hand was bleeding and already starting to swell.

After a minute, someone knocked on the door.

“It’s closed,” I snarled.

Their voice was muffled. “Bro. I gotta take a leak.”

“Take it somewhere else,” I growled.

I heard them walk away.

Then I gave myself two minutes. Two minutes to mourn the fact that someone had done that to her. Horrible images and scenarios pulsed in my head. She must’ve been terrified. My stomach twisted. She’d been carrying this hurt and darkness inside all this time, putting up a front that was a total lie, and I’d never even suspected. What kind of terrible person was I that I couldn’t tell?

When those two minutes were up—still a complete wreck—I gave myself two more.

But when those were up, and I was nowhere near done with my tears, I made myself stand. I washed my face and then my hand—fairly certain I’d broken it. Then I told myself to stop sniffling and cowboy the freak up. I wasn’t the one who’d been raped.

Just the woman I loved with my entire heart.

Another sob tore through me. “Stop,” I hissed. Hands on the sink, I stared at myself in the mirror.

Fact: Assuming her pregnancy was a result of the rape, Tally had kept this secret for nine years. She hadn’t told even her closest friends. Maybe she hadn’t told Madden. There was no way she’d want me to know. And if she found out that I did, she might never speak to me again.

And I couldn’t live with that.

Fact: Aside from the sexual assault, there was no possible way for me to tell her I was Leggs without her making the connection that she was The Girl. We’d met nine years ago. I’d told her that meeting The Girl had been a love-at-first-sight experience. Tally was intelligent. It wouldn’t take two minutes for her to realize she was The Girl. And if she found out she was The Girl, she might never want anything to do with me again.

Again, I couldn’t live with that.

Fact: And this was something I could worry about later—but worry about it, I would have to. I’d been writing a novel with one of my students. For a year and a half. Professors wrote textbooks with their students all the time. But a novel? That would be completely out of the question. It was in the fine print of my contract. It caused an imbalance of power. I could be accused of persuading her, giving her unfair academic advantages. If anyone found out, they would not care that we hadn’t known. They probably wouldn’t believe it. Especially since she was Anna’s best friend and we’d known each other before she ever started school here. She could lose the fellowship that paid her tuition.

I couldn’t live with that.

I’d probably lose my chance at tenure.

I’d live. It would suck but I would live.

As I walked down the hall, I knew I had to get out of this building as quickly as possible. I needed way more time to think. To process. As it was, I was a volcano on the verge of eruption.

And I needed to get my throbbing hand checked out.

When I walked into my office, she was still in my chair, the computer on her lap, but she was stiff and closed off. I couldn’t blame her.

I sat and she looked up at me through her lashes, like a puppy who knew she’d done something wrong but they weren’t sure what. I swung her chair so we were facing each other, knee to knee. Then I reached over and slowly closed the lid to her laptop.

“Tally?” I said, faking calm. “I can’t write this scene with you.” She stared at me, tight-lipped, and I could see the hurt. “I’m your professor. It wouldn’t be right for me to help you write a sex scene.” Not even close to the reason, even if it should’ve been.

“Ash, c’mon,” she breathed, sounding almost desperate. “I won’t tell anyone. I’m really good at keeping secrets.”

That sentence almost did me in. Because yeah, she was really good at keeping secrets. And she shouldn’t have to be. But life had taught her otherwise.

I swallowed and let myself take a beat. Then I tried again. “I’m really sorry,” I said more firmly. “I can’t.”

“But you’re my friend, right?” She sounded full-on desperate now. “ Friends help each other. I’m stuck in a rut and I need you to give me a tow. I’ve thought about it a long time and I know you’re the right person to help.” She reached out to squeeze my hand. I yanked it away. But the hitch in her breath told me she’d seen. My hand had doubled in size since the restroom and it was starting to bruise. Her eyes met mine, full of questions. Then she reached again as if gently touching it would make it better. Like a mom who kisses an owie.

If she touched me, I was done for. I would be sobbing, head in her lap in less than five seconds. I tucked my hand under the opposite armpit. Oof, that throbbed.

She looked utterly wounded. “Ash, what is going on?”

A sob lodged in my throat. I bolted out of my seat and turned my back to her. “I can’t. I’m sorry. You’re welcome to use my office if you need a quiet place to write.” I didn’t want to kick her out.

“Ashton, I don’t need a place. I need you . Please ? I don’t know what else to do.”

“I have to go.” I swiped my bag from the floor and left her in my office.