Logan paused. “I don’t know. You’re here way after office hours. Kinda unprofessional, to be honest.”
Ashley rolled her eyes. “Ha.”
“Unless…” Logan trailed off. “Is this for business or pleasure?”
Ashley’s eyes widened. She shoved Logan’s shoulder and muttered, “You’re an idiot.”
“Thank you for that.” Logan smiled and lingered just a moment too long in the doorway before gesturing into the motel room. There was something off about her. Her humor was too sharp, too deflective. “You can come in. No judging, though.”
Ashley stepped into the room. It was bigger than it looked from the outside, but it was irrefutably a motel room. The wallpaper was a sickly shade of green, chaotically patterned with brown roses. Ashley hadn’t spent much time in the Bates, but Logan had clearly rearranged the furniture—the breakfast table was fashioned into a makeshift desk, the minifridge acted as a second end table, and a potted plant was precariously draped over the mounted TV, drooping sadly across the screen.
“It looks great,” Ashley said.
“It looks okay,” Logan corrected. She shut the door behind them and leaned against it, arms folded over her chest. “Not my fault, though. It’s a million times better than it was when we checked in.”
“It’s gotta be expensive to stay this long.”
“I think Gracia’s charging my dads monthly rent? I’m not really the family treasurer.” Logan shrugged. “Anyway, what’s up?”
Ashley swallowed. She hadn’t fully thought through why she was here. After the fight with Fran, it felt like the sky was closing in on her. She was like a tire stuck in the mud, spinning, trying to get free. Snakebite had never felt like this before. Now, it was like she’d forgotten how to breathe. She hadn’t planned to come here—common sense said Logan would just make things worse—but it was like she was on autopilot. She couldn’t have landed anywhere else.
“Things are weird,” Ashley said. “I just needed some fresh air, I guess.”
“So you came to a … motel room?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Bug’s house wasn’t good enough?”
“Sorry. I can leave.”
Logan sighed. “No, sorry, you can stay. It’s a reflex. Hanging out just kinda seems like something friends do.”
Ashley smiled. After all the investigating, all the days at the cabin, all the secrets, maybe they were friends. She turned to face the TV mounted on the wall. Judge Judy played on mute, and Ashley wondered if this was the only channel at the Bates or if the show was on by choice. Either way, the room painted a picture of a certain kind of loneliness. She wondered how many nights Logan had spent like this, here and elsewhere.
“Looks like a party,” Ashley said. “You’re sure I’m not interrupting?”
“Nope, now you have to stay. I already used mental energy letting you in.” Logan motioned to the bed. “You’re free to stay over. I’d say sorry there’s only one bed, but we’re clearly in one of those dark, murdery romances. We should just lean into the cliché.”
Ashley laughed and threw herself onto the bed. The mattress was stiff as stone, but it was covered in knit blankets and a plush black comforter to make it bearable. Logan wandered around to the other side of the bed and joined her without a word. There was something weird about Logan tonight, something weird about the quiet.
Something weird, but not something wrong.
“Did you have an update?” Logan asked.
Ashley frowned. “If it’s okay, I don’t really wanna talk about investigation stuff. I just wanna … I don’t know, talk.”