“I know,” she whispered back. “Because I’m not her.”
I studied her face, searching for the features I knew so very well. “No, you’re not her.”
She nodded sadly and left.
I closed my door and rushed across the room to pick up the phone. I dialed my mom’s emergency number.
“Mason,” my mom said as soon as the phone rang once. She sounded out of breath. “Did you find her?”
“No, but Ash was here.”
Silence was the only response. “Mom?” I prompted.
“If Ash was there, Lynn’s okay.”
I knew that, but it didn’t make it any easier. “I want Lynn back.”
“I know you do, son. Just give it time. These things have a way of cycling around.”
“Mom…” I heaved out a sigh.
“I know,” she said softly. “But you know she’s safe. That’s what matters.”
What mattered was getting Lynn back, and I’d do anything to make that happen.
2
I stood outside the door of my own house with my forehead pressed against the cool wood, taking deep breaths as I counted to ten. It was a calming technique my mother had taught me many years before, and I still used it when I was stressed. I felt the motion of the inhale until my lungs were full, and then visualized myself blowing all the bad feelings out of my body.
Suddenly, the door flew open and I stumbled into the living room.
“How long were you going to stand there breathing heavily?” Ash asked.
She stood in front of me with one hand on her cocked hip. Her top half was in a t-shirt that reminded me more of a fish net, and I could see her bra through it. Her jeans were cut so short that I could see the curves of her ass when she walked back toward the kitchen.
Hell, beggars couldn’t be choosers. At least she’d showered. I could still smell Lynn’s shampoo in the wake Ash left behind, and my heart clenched. Lynn was gone, and I’d been left with this poor, mouthy, and sometimes downright evil substitute.
The bad thing was that when it came to Ash, you never could guess what was going to happen next. One minute, she was sweet as pie. The next, she could have you by the balls. And right now, she had me by mine.
“Why don’t you go change? You’re too…” She stopped and tapped her chin while she thought of an appropriately cutting word. “Stiff,” she finally let burst from her lips. “And while that might be a good thing if we were talking about your dick, it is not cool to bring your stiffness home when I’m here. You know I don’t subscribe to the go-to-work-in-a-suit model.” Ash didn’t do nine-to-five. She never had. And she abhorred people who conformed, as she called it. “Your polyester is making me itch.” She pretended to scratch her arms.
I turned toward my bedroom—the bedroom I shared with Lynn—and walked inside. I stopped in the doorway when I saw that Ash had dumped her backpack on my bed. I looked through the few things she’d had in there, nudging paper to the side. There was nothing that might give me a clue as to who the owner was. The only thing of importance that was in her pack was a picture of me and Lynn at our wedding. We’d smiled at the camera. Lynn held a bouquet of flowers and I held Lynn. I picked up the picture and stormed back into the other room where Ash waited.
“Why do you have this?” I demanded.
She looked over her shoulder at me. “Have what?”
“This picture. Why do you have it?”
She shrugged. “She looked so happy. I wanted to remember it.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Why does it bother you that I have it?”
It was our day, that was why. Mine and Lynn’s. No one else’s. “Never mind.” The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Ash. If I did, she’d refuse to help me. Then I’d never find Lynn.
“Put it back with my stuff, will you?” she called to my retreating back.
I changed out of my suit and put on a pair of track pants and a t-shirt. Then I went back out to the living room.
“When was the last time you heard from her?” I asked quickly.