The door to the kitchen swung open, effectively ending the argument. Gus placed their food and drinks on the table and disappeared back into the kitchen. Ashley stared at her fries in silence. She didn’t want to be friends with Logan, but they both had a stake in this. They both needed answers. Logan tentatively took a sip of beer and her nose wrinkled up; apparently she was put off by the taste. She slid it away and folded her arms.
“I’m not gonna snitch,” Ashley said. “No one would believe me, anyway.”
“They’d believe you more than my dads.” Logan picked apart one of her wings, delicately avoiding getting sauce on her fingers. “Everyone already hates us. It wouldn’t even be that much of a stretch. They’d be happy you gave them a reason.”
Ashley frowned. It was a fair point.
“I don’t want a killer. A killer means that Tristan’s…” Ashley pointed at Logan with a fry. “We want the same thing. We just want things to go back to normal.”
“Normal,” Logan scoffed.
Ashley rolled her eyes. “I’m not blackmailing you.”
“Sure.”
“You really don’t like me, do you?”
Logan stopped dissecting her wings and looked up. “It’s not personal. I hate literally everyone in this town.”
“It feels a little personal.”
“Probably because you’re used to everyone liking you.”
Ashley huffed. “I’m not … never mind.”
Logan cleared her throat and smiled. “So, what’s next in the investigation? We know the cabin is haunted. It’s maybe connected to your boyfriend.”
Ashley frowned. “We find out more about the cabin, I guess. I can ask my mom. You ask your dads about it, too. Once we figure out what it is, we can plan next steps. We should definitely go back, though.”
The bell on the Chokecherry’s front door rang and Ashley froze. Fran and John strode in, eyes locked on Ashley’s table like they were on a mission. Ashley looked for Paul trailing behind them, but for the first time since she could remember, they were alone. Logan turned around and eyed Fran and John with casual interest.
“Ashley,” Fran said, leaning onto their table. “Where have you been? I texted you, like, a million times this morning. Are you feeling better?”
Ashley smiled. “Sorry, it’s been a weird day.”
“Apparently.” Fran shot a skeptical look at Logan. “I’m Fran, and this is John.”
“Yeah, we’ve met,” Logan said coolly. “Heard you were missing a bikini top.”
Fran flushed. She turned back to Ashley and snatched a french fry off her plate. “Looks like you’re almost done. You can give us a ride home.”
“I…” Ashley looked to Logan.
Logan shrugged. “I’ll be fine. Just give me your number and we’ll meet up later.”
Ashley tapped her phone number into Logan’s phone, then followed Fran and John into the night.
The air was warm and sweet outside the Chokecherry. On most summer nights, the dry wind down the main road smelled like barbecued meat and whiskey, but tonight it carried the strange, pungent musk of grief, too.
Ashley climbed into the driver’s seat of the Ford, and John and Fran both crawled into the back seat. She felt uncomfortably like a chauffeur. Fran playfully shoved John, and he shoved her back before slipping his hand into hers. They laughed, quiet and warm, and the whole display punched Ashley in the stomach. It was stupid to be jealous, but she wasn’t sure what else to be.