The fluorescents overhead flickered in anticipation. The air was stiff with the threat of battle. The strange man’s dark brow furrowed, jaw clenched, fingers gripped tight around the handle of his shopping cart. Tammy’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t back down. She pushed a blond curl behind her ear, donned a cutting smile, and simply said, “Alejo.”
The man, surprisingly, returned the smile, though his was easier. Unlike her mother, Ashley thought there was a part of him that meant the gesture. His black hair rested at his shoulders, half tied-up in a knot at the back of his head. It took Ashley a moment to recognize him as the man from Pioneer Cemetery on the day of Tristan’s vigil.
Ashley’s stomach sank. That made him the gift shop girl’s other father. Maybe he was here because he was angry. His expression was hard to read, but he was surprisingly intimidating for a man wearing a knit sweater that read WHO’S AFRAID OF THE DARK.
“Tammy,” Alejo said, “fancy meeting you here.”
Tammy cleared her throat. “What a coincidence. I feel like I see you everywhere.”
“I’m sure you love that.”
Barton women didn’t back down and they certainly didn’t lose. Tammy exhaled sharply. “How are you and your family settling in?” she asked. “I heard you’re staying at the Bates. Bit of a downgrade from a Hollywood mansion, but you’re used to living on my property, so I’m sure you’ve made yourself at home.”
“Mom,” Ashley breathed.
The man turned to Ashley and his expression warmed. “This must be your daughter? Ashley, right? It’s been a long time.”
Ashley blinked. She was sure she’d never met the man before, but something about his smile was familiar.
“Don’t talk to her,” Tammy said, stepping in front of Ashley.
Alejo rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. I’m just trying to have a conversation. You’re the one turning this into a thing.”
“I’m not doing anything but getting my groceries.”
“Right,” Alejo said. He eyed Ashley again. “I heard you met my daughter the other day.”
Tammy scowled. “I said don’t talk to her. How would you like it if I went and talked to your daughter?”
Ashley looked back and forth between the two of them. Her mother was usually a master of mitigating situations like this. She was supposed to be the picture of poise and calmness. This untethered version of her was unsettling. Ashley held her breath. Guilt over the fight in the gift shop welled up in her like a balloon.
“You don’t have to,” Alejo said. “Your daughter and her friends already harassed her. It was apparently quite the Snakebite welcome.”
“Hmm.” Tammy briefly eyed Ashley like she meant to ask for clarification, but she steeled herself. “Maybe if she kept her head down, she wouldn’t—”
“Logan isn’t hurting anyone by shopping for candles, Tammy.”
Tammy paused for a moment, eyes narrowed. “Logan…？”
Alejo cleared his throat, but said nothing.
Tammy shook off whatever surprise the name had given her. She spun her cart around to leave. “We’ll just get our groceries later.”
“You don’t have to—” Alejo dragged his palm over his mouth. His lips pressed together in a thin, desperate line. “Can we talk?”
Tammy closed her eyes and exhaled, slow and measured. Without looking at Ashley, she smiled. “Can you go get some broccoli for the stir-fry? I’ll just be a second.”
Ashley nodded. She took the shopping cart and walked as briskly as she could to the next aisle. She had no intention of missing their conversation. She’d never seen her mother act so unnerved by anyone, let alone a lanky forty-something in a knit sweater. From between the candy bars and the soda, she could just make out her mother’s tense voice.