Hold on to Hope - Page 89

Nothing but a fool’s game.

Except I did.

In my periphery.

At the very fringes of consciousness where the deepest sort of recognition lived. Where the base instinct to protect the ones I loved was bred.

That was the thing about being me.

The heightened senses were sometimes a blessing. Sometimes a curse.

Vibes that tingled and itched and pricked at my skin.

Barbs and hooks and knifes.

Because I felt her staring from where she was hiding in a doorway that was tucked back in a cove up the sidewalk in the distance. Head barely peeking out.

Like she’d been tailing us. Following us.

Watching us.

My heart skidded then jumped into a sprint, a thunder of desperation and anger filling me to the brim.

Her eyes went wide the second she saw that I’d noticed her. Fear taking her hostage.

Wasn’t even close to being as severe as mine.

Could feel Frankie getting confused from my side, protectiveness instantly lining her bones as she hugged Everett to her so fiercely while I started in the direction of Ashley.

Ashley whose head was shaking like she was begging me not to approach her.

Ashley who I could tell was starting to panic as I slowly started to weave through the people on the sidewalk like I was approaching a wild animal.

I was getting frantic myself when I saw that she was preparing to bolt.

She wavered, attention darting around, like she was searching for the best escape route.

Twilight had settled, blues and silvers strewn across the road as lamps blinked to life, a dusky haze pushing down from the heavens and gathering on the street.

She started to duck into it.

To get lost.

To disappear.

Vapor and mist.

“Ashley!” I shouted, shoving out from around a man who was taking a picture with his girl. I didn’t even take the time to give an apology.

She looked back at me.

Terror froze her expression.

My spirit clutched.

My senses coiled.

This awareness that everything was bad.

So goddamn bad, and if I was going to fix it, I had to get to her. She was the only one who held the answer.

The fate of my son.

“Ashley,” I yelled again as I got closer.

She started to push through the crowd.

Distraught.

Frenzied.

Deranged.

Panic gripped me, and I started to run, started to plea. “Ashely, stop! Wait!”

People were looking at me like I was the deranged one as I pushed through them. I shouted her name over and over.

While I felt like I was a second from everything coming apart.

Everything dependent on this moment.

On me getting through to her.

Ashley’s straight-brown ponytail bobbed furiously as she fled. I followed it like it was a flare streaking into the sky.

A shout for help.

Because my chest was tight. This feeling that she was not alright sliding into my bloodstream, knowledge pounding and beating and screaming.

“Ashley!”

She suddenly ducked across the street. A car skidded and swerved to miss her. She stumbled a bit, shocked, so terrified that she kept running to the other side.

I chased her down, dodging one car, then another, sure they were probably blaring their horns at me but not giving a shit about anything but getting to her.

I hit the sidewalk, finally catching up. The sheer fear radiating from her slipped across my sweaty flesh like a bad omen.

I grabbed her by the arm, and she whipped around, her eyes so big I was wondering if her brother was right.

If this girl was manic.

Maybe even crazy.

“Ashley,” I pled, knowing it was probably too loud and hard, but not knowing how to stop the outright desperation from flooding out. I gripped her by the outside of both shoulders to keep her from running. “Stop. Need to talk to you.”

Frantically, her head shook. “Let me go.”

“No . . . not until you tell me what the hell is going on.”

Knots of dread curled her brow, and I could feel the agony radiating from her pores. “I . . . I just wanted to check on him. To make sure he is fine. That’s all.”

“Bullshit,” I gritted, probably holding her too tight. I had to beat down the urge to shake the truth out of her. I dragged her over to the building, into another doorway that was tucked back from the wall, the shop closed up for the night. “Tell me what’s happening.”

“I just need to be sure that you’ll take care of him. Protect him, no matter what.”

“Of course, I will, but you’ve got to tell me what the hell is going on here. I don’t know how to help him if I don’t know anything about his past.”

Harshly, she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-I-I didn’t mean for this to happen. I love him, Evan. I do. I’m sorry.”

I blinked, trying to make sense of the ramble of words she was releasing, faster than I could process them all. “If you’re sick, you need to tell me. So I can help take care of him. So I can help take care of you.”

Tags: A.L. Jackson Romance
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