“Oh, thank god.” Her mother’s voice was a flood of relief. It was the usual Tammy Barton, sure and easy. “If it means you’ll leave, I’ll do whatever. I’ll even invite you back to Sunday brunches.”
Alejo laughed, more relieved than Ashley expected for someone who’d just been asked to self-exile. In an instant, the atmosphere changed from tense and miserable to amiable. Friendly, even.
“I do miss Sunday brunches.” The squeaky wheels on Alejo’s cart swiveled. “God, I hate this town.”
“You didn’t used to.”
Alejo was quiet. “No, I didn’t.”
The silence between them stretched so long, Ashley wondered if they’d quietly parted ways. She leaned into the aisle and closed her eyes. This wasn’t right—her mother shared everything with her, but she’d never heard of Alejo. She’d never heard of Brandon or their family or all this apparent history. Ashley hated secrets. They were needles pricking at her skin, small and sharp and constant, reminders that there were some truths she still didn’t deserve, no matter how hard she worked to live up to her name.
“Well, until you disappear again,” Tammy said, almost too quiet to hear.
Alejo’s wheels screeched. “Can’t wait.”
Ashley scrambled to the produce aisle and grabbed a bag of broccoli florets. Her mother rounded the corner with an odd, knowing smile. She took the broccoli and dropped it into the cart, but her eyes were fixed on Ashley’s face.
“How much did you hear?”
“All of it?” Ashley bit her lip. “I’m sorry about the whole fight with that girl. John just started going off at her, and I tried—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Tammy shook her head, but she wasn’t angry. She pushed a piece of Ashley’s hair behind her ear. “I would’ve done the same thing if I was you. I’ve known that family for a long time. Some people are just determined to be victims.”
“Who was that guy?” Ashley asked.
Tammy shrugged. “No one important.”
“Are you friends?”
Tammy turned the cart around. For a while, she wheeled in silence, chewing on an answer before spitting it out. “At one point, sure.”
Ashley nodded. Further down the aisle, Alejo pulled a bag of potato chips from a tall shelf. His expression was distant and glassy. Ashley couldn’t tell if it was anger or adrenaline that still wracked him, but whatever it was, Alejo’s hands shook when he moved. If Tammy noticed, she didn’t bat an eye.
“A Barton’s job is to make sure Snakebite stays safe,” Tammy said, navigating her way to the checkout.
Ashley wasn’t sure she understood. But she nodded and followed her mother without another word, secrets dogging her steps like shadows.
8
A Necessary Fire
It had taken Ashley until seventh grade to realize that it was called Snakebite for the shape of the lake. On a map, Lake Owyhee didn’t look like a lake at all. Instead, it looked like a wide-mouthed river that stretched deep into the dry and empty Owyhee wilderness. It twisted through the bald hills like an uncoiling serpent, forking at the north end into a snake’s mouth. And inside the mouth of the viper was Snakebite, laughably small and unnervingly alone.
The last time she’d waded into the lake at night, Tristan was with her.
Now, Ashley stood waist deep, staring at the point where the warm black water met the hills on the horizon. Away from the light of town, the night sky was a paint stroke of mauve clouds and speckled starlight. The water pulsed against her stomach, asking her to step just a little farther into the depths. She’d never liked swimming at night before, but there was something comforting about the dark now. It gently pulled her into the nothing.