All Fall Down

Maybe she wasn’t completely losing it, after all.

Maybe she was hanging on by a thread, instead.

It had been exactly one week since she’d argued with Melanie about Mia and her marriage and Ashley had been unable to put the confrontation behind her. She had been unable to forget the way the argument had made her feel—angry and resentful. Bitter.

She couldn’t understand why Melanie refused to see the truth, why she refused to acknowledge that Ashley might be able to see the situation more clearly because she wasn’t a part of her and Mia’s little clique. Their little twin’s club.

Three was a crowd.

Wannabe idiot. That’s all she was. All she had ever been.

Her sisters and nephew were everything to her. They were the most important part of her life. The only part that meant anything.

But they had more in their lives. So much more that she sometimes thought they didn’t need her at all. Thought that if she fell off the face of the planet, they would hardly notice she was gone.

Ashley sucked in a sharp breath, hating her thoughts, denying them. They weren’t true. Melanie and Mia loved her. Her alienation was of her own creation. Her loneliness had nothing to do with other people—only herself. With her displaced anger.

Wasn’t that what the shrink she had seen for a while had told her? That she would always be alone until she faced the truth about her past?

Ashley dropped her purse on the kitchen counter and crossed to the refrigerator, but didn’t open it. On the appliance’s shiny black front was a photo of her and her sisters, taken on their thirtieth birthday. Their arms were linked, they were smiling. Three women, strikingly attractive in identical flame-red dresses, near mirror images of one another.

Ashley settled on her own image and an ache of loneliness and longing settled in the pit of her gut. Near mirror images. Not exact.

Her part of the mirror contained a distortion. Subtle, true. But it set her apart. Ashley, the one who was different. Ashley, forever the outsider. The outcast.

Tears choked her and she cleared her throat, fighting them off. Wishing she could fight off the ache in the pit of her gut as easily, wishing she could find something to fill the empty, hurting place inside her.

Ashley passed a hand over her eyes. What was happening to her? It was as if she was becoming a person she didn’t recognize. One filled with fear and rage. At times vengeful, others repentant. One who wanted to fit in but who always felt alienated, who longed for love but was afraid to allow anyone near her.

Why couldn’t she let down her guard? With a man or anyone else? Why couldn’t she let herself be loved?

Ashley blinked against the tears that blinded her. As she did, her vision cleared. Beside the photograph, also held by a refrigerator magnet, was a note from Boyd, informing Mia that he was going to be very late and that she shouldn’t wait up.

The note’s meaning registered and her equilibrium returned. Fall in love and end up like her sisters? One constantly fighting for her independence, the other too dependent even to try?

Making a face, Ashley opened the door and reached inside for a beer. As she did, she heard the sound of the garage door rumbling up. Mia. No doubt trunk loaded with packages. Her sister loved to shop and spent a good portion of her days enjoying Boyd’s seemingly endless supply of money.

Ashley shook her head. Doctors. Overpaid, self-proclaimed kings of the universe. She played nicey-nice with them day in and day out—save for a few who were authentic healers, she could do without the lot of them. Her esteemed brother-in-law as well.

Ashley opened the bottle of imported brew, then fished around in the cabinet for a glass. The front door opened and closed; she heard the rustle and crackle of shopping bags and Mia humming under her breath. Ashley smiled. Her sister was nothing if not predictable.

Grabbing a handful of mixed nuts from the jar on the counter, she took her beer and headed toward the living room.

She found Mia there, back turned toward her as she bent over the coffee table, still humming under her breath.

“Sunny little tune,” Ashley murmured from the doorway. “Where have you been all afternoon? Walt Disney World?”

Mia whirled around, one hand to her throat, the other pressed to her side. “Ashley! What are you doing here?”

“Getting a beer. Wiling away the time until my sister got home.” Ashley sauntered into the room, munching on the nuts. “Do I need an invitation to pay a visit to my middle sister?”

“Of course not.” Mia smiled weakly. “You scared me, that’s all.”

“My car’s parked in front of the your house. Didn’t you see it?”

“No. I must have been daydr—”

“Oh my God, Mia. Is that a gun?”

Mia looked down at the revolver she had clutched in her hand, her expression blank. A moment later, she returned her gaze to her sister’s, cheeks pink. “Yes.”

“What are you doing with it?”

“Nothing.” Looking uncomfortable, Mia turned and stuck the weapon back into the decorative box in the center of the big glass and brass coffee table, then shut the lid with a snap.

“Nothing?” Ashley crossed the room, stopping to stand before her sister. She searched her gaze. It hurt to see her sister’s bruises, the yellow and blue that no amount of makeup could hide. “Why do you need a gun, Mia? Planning on getting rid of your husband the old-fashioned way?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid.” Ashley set her beer on the table, then reached around Mia. She opened the box. Inside rested a pearl-handled, snub-nosed revolver. Without even touching it she could tell it was the real thing, not a toy. “If the bastard were my husband, I’d be tempted. Though I doubt I’d shoot him. Too easy to get caught.”

Mia made a sound of exasperation. “Stop it. The last thing I would even think about is killing my husband.”

“That’s where you and I differ, love. If my husband had done that to my face, he’d be history. And in short order.” Ashley reached for the gun, then stopped. “Is it loaded?”

“Of course not.”

She lifted the gun out of the box, weighing it in her hand. It wasn’t nearly as heavy as she had thought it would be. Not nearly as cold. In fact, she rather liked the way it snuggled into her palm. She gripped it in both hands and held it out, police-style. “Stop, motherfucker! Or I’ll blow your brains out!”

Mia started to laugh, though her expression was horrified. “Ash, you’re too much.”

She laughed, too. “I could get used to carrying one of these. What a rush.” She handed the gun back to her sister and for the second time, Mia set the weapon back in its box. “Do you think that’s the way Melanie feels every morning when she straps that baby on? All macho and stuff?”

“Knowing Mel? Probably.”

Ashley reached for her beer and took a sip. It was already warmer than she liked. “So, what’s with the gun? Seems like a dangerous thing to have hanging around if you’re not planning to whack somebody with it. Loaded or not.”

Mia’s smile faded. “Boyd’s been … out a lot at night, and I just thought … for my own protection …”

Her words trailed off. Ashley sobered. “You don’t have to pretend with me. Melanie told me everything. About your suspicions. What Boyd did to you.”

Mia brought a hand to her bruised face, wincing, though whether in pain or at the memory, Ashley wasn’t sure. “It was awful, Ash. The way Boyd … I was afraid. I still am.”

Ashley shook her head. “You don’t need a gun, Mia. Just leave him.”

“I can’t.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid of what he might do. He said if I ever tried, he’d … that he’d hurt me.”

Ashley drew her eyebrows together, growing more concerned by the moment. More unsettled. Her brother-in-law had always seemed like an arrogant little prick to her, but he’d never seemed violent. But then, their father had been a pillar of the community.