They parked in the driveway and Tammy threw open her door. She stormed into the house with Ashley at her heels.
“I’ve never been this embarrassed in my life,” Tammy barked once they were both inside. She swept into the entryway like a hurricane, tossing her purse at the console table. The key dish clattered to the floor, but Tammy didn’t give it even a second glance. She turned to face Ashley. “In my life.”
Ashley stood in the open doorway, eyes fixed on her mother’s face. A warm, sickly breeze gusted into the hallway, but Ashley had long since forgotten how to breathe. The Tammy Barton Ashley knew was a monument—she was carved of marble, unshakeable against the storm—but now, bathed in sallow half-light, she slouched against the kitchen counter and peeled off her black heels, discarding them across the room like they’d just been caught kissing the town pariah. Like they’d disgraced the Barton legacy she’d worked so hard to cultivate. Tammy’s voice was small in the same way a star was small moments before exploding.
But this wasn’t fair.
The fear and guilt that’d been bunching up in Ashley’s stomach since the lake began to unfold into something else. It crawled up Ashley’s throat, forcing her to bite back angry tears. Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “You’re embarrassed of me?”
Tammy considered.
“You know what? Yes. I mean, am I the last person in town to know about this? People have probably been talking about it behind my back for weeks.”
“Behind your back?”
“Yes, behind my back. We’re the backbone of this town. And you turned us into a joke.”
Ashley wiped her eyes. “Me and Logan aren’t a joke.”
“If it was serious, you would’ve told me.”
Ashley shook her head. Because telling her mother about Logan wasn’t like telling her about Tristan. It wasn’t like telling her about a failed test or a party she felt guilty about going to. There was an unspoken rule in Snakebite that said that this truth was different and dangerous. It was self-exile. It wasn’t the kind of thing Snakebite knew how to forgive.
“I couldn’t tell you.”
“Really?” Tammy asked, incredulous. “Why not?”
“I saw how you treated Logan’s dads.”
“Oh, you saw how I treated them? I guess you were a really observant toddler, then.” Tammy exhaled and her rage transformed into a bitter chill. Her perfectly maintained blond curls bobbed at her shoulders. “If you knew anything about it, you’d know I saved them.”
“You kicked them out.”
“And they’re lucky I did.”
Ashley arched a brow.
“You think they would’ve had a great life here?” Tammy asked. “You think they would’ve been happy?”
“It’s their home.”
“I love Snakebite, but I know what it is and it was never gonna be home for them.” Tammy leaned against the kitchen island, grip tight on the edge of the counter. “They were so stupid. They thought because they were from here it wouldn’t hurt them and they could just do whatever they wanted. People were ready to literally kill them and they wouldn’t leave. They have no idea how many nights I spent convincing people to put the pitchforks away.”
Ashley cleared her throat. Cautiously, she approached the counter and slipped onto a barstool across from her mother. The storm hadn’t passed yet—Tammy’s eyes were glassy with tears she refused to let loose—but her grip on the counter was slack. Soon, she’d reach into the fridge for a bottle of cheap pinot grigio and the worst would be over. But it wouldn’t be over for Ashley. A new storm raged in her chest full of pain and anger and even more questions.