"So," Ashton remarked as we dismounted his motorcycle minutes later, "I take it you never get in trouble."

I frowned before answering, "I do sometimes."

He smiled, but it was void of humor. "What does 'sometimes' mean? Your one trip to detention?"

Why bring that up now? "Well...yeah," I muttered in bewilderment. When Ash didn't respond, I tried to change the subject. "So what are you going to do about your helmets? They're still at the museum."

"Never mind them," he said, pulling the garage door open with surprising force. Still confused, I followed him out of the garage. He had seemed perfectly happy a few minutes ago, when we'd been literally running for our lives. Why was he acting like this now?

"Uh...you okay?" I questioned as I moved to walk beside him.

"I'm fantastic."

Really? Then why are you glaring? I wanted to say, but I bit my tongue instead. I endured his silent fuming all the way to the house, but once inside, I could no longer ignore the sick feeling in my gut.

Just as Ash was about to make his getaway, I impulsively reached out and caught his wrist. He stopped in his tracks immediately to look down at my hand.

Embarrassed, I stared wide-eyed at him for a moment, before hastily dropping his wrist and collecting myself. He didn't look pleased, but he didn't leave. I took that as a good sign. Still, it was not easy finding my voice. "Uh...are you...are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." Even now, the words were uttered in that cold voice.

Growing more and more perturbed by the second, I let out a frustrated breath and wondered in exasperation, "Is it something I said?"

"No," he breathed out. "Of course not."

I watched him in aggravation, knowing that he was lying. "What? Are you upset that I don't get in trouble all the time or something?"

Ashton stared at me in disbelief. "That's not even—I didn't mean that."

"Then why are you upset?"

"I'm not!"

My jaw dropped. He has got to be kidding. I was just about to blurt out something ugly, but I was cut off by the sound of the front door opening.

Jumping in surprise, I whirled to see who had interrupted us. I was met by the startled face of Joshua Presley.

"Uh..." I wasn't sure at first who had emitted the sound, but then I realized that my mouth was the only one open. I felt like a criminal caught in the act, yet I didn't even know what I was guilty of.

Josh recovered easily enough. "Maine! What a pleasant surprise." I blinked, baffled. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Do you have brain damage?" Ashton's words came as a surprise to all three of us. "Did I not tell you she works here?"

Josh looked up at his friend then, clearly not expecting him to be in a mood. "Somebody's having a bad day."

Ash rolled his eyes. "For the tenth time, I'm fine."

"Right."

"What did I miss?" A fourth voice interrupted our exchange, and I glanced toward the door to see that Dave had just arrived.

"Nothing good," I muttered before excusing myself. "I've got laundry to do."

I felt Ashton's eyes following me, but conversation soon picked up behind me. "What happened to your face?" I heard Dave ask Ashton just as I rounded the corner to the laundry room.

I envisioned Ashton's face in my mind as I began transferring clothes from the washing machine to the drier. He really had looked pretty horrible, hadn't he? And after all that, his sour mood had only made his bloody nose look worse.

On the subject of injuries, I glanced at my wrist to see if there was any visible damage. To my surprise, two small purple spots had begun to form already. Dropping the wet T-shirt I had been holding, I tentatively pressed one of the bruised areas. I barely held back a wince upon realizing just how painful the bruises were.

I thought I'd heard of ways to treat bruises before, but now I couldn't remember. It's just a bruise though, right? Shrugging off the pain, I bent down to retrieve the T-shirt I'd dropped. As I straightened, my vertebral column experienced a loud crack, followed by a jolt of pain. "Ah!" I groaned in surprise, before gritting my teeth and ignoring the ache as best I could. So this is what happens when I go along with Ashton's plans. Duly noted.

Glaring at nothing in particular, I shut the drier door, twisted the timer, and pressed the start button. Then I turned to the washing machine and started another load of clothes. By now, the faint sound of voices had moved from the hallway to the kitchen, so I figured it was safe enough for me to venture out of the laundry room.

As I did so, I took care to watch for the boys. I wasn't in the mood to see any of them at the moment—especially not Ashton. I doubted he wanted to see me either after our little exchange.

He was just a little punk, I decided. He was a punk to drag me along to his showdown with his gangster friend. And he was even more of a punk to get upset at me for not getting into trouble more often. What right did he have?

I was about to sneak across the hallway and up the staircase, when a thought stopped me. No, I shouldn't be running away. I should be spying on that little punk. I should be getting this revenge business going.

Filled with purpose once again, I moved quietly toward the kitchen. Hugging the wall like some sort of lizard, I inched closer and closer to the kitchen entrance. As soon as I was within hearing shot of the boys, I reached into the right front pocket of my jeans and wrapped my hand around my cell phone. Pulling it from my pocket, I made sure it was on silent mode and then selected the recording app.

Pressing my phone to the wall, I prayed that it would catch everything being said in the adjoining room. I for one, had to strain my ears to make it out.

Foolishly, I thought I was going to make some awesome scoop by listening to the boys, but instead I found them to be talking about me.

"...should be honest, Ash. You don't really think she's working here because she needs the money, do you?" I recognized that as Dave's voice.

There was a pause, and then Ash's low tones sounded through the wall. "Does it matter what I think?"

Frowning at what I found to be a highly unsatisfying remark, I soon discovered that Ashton's friends felt the same way. "Just answer the question, man!" I was surprised to hear Josh speak so emphatically. "If she were anyone else, you would have told your parents 'no way in hell.'" What is he talking about?

"Right," Ashton replied drily. "As if my parents would care even if I did say that."

Josh snorted. "You're hilarious. You once pulled a gun on the Dane Rowlett, and yet you want us to believe that you just went along with your parents because you didn't want to get in an argument?"

I was still reeling from the "pulled a gun" part when Ashton's sudden laugh broke the silence. "Why are you guys so hung up on this, anyway?" he asked in a good-humored tone. "She's just a girl who works for my parents."

"Yeah, but ever heard of stalkers?" Josh remarked suspiciously.

Now it was Dave's turn to laugh. "You're just paranoid because you have, like, five hundred girls watching your every move. You could start a fan club."

He's got a point, I nodded absentmindedly, imagining Britt's love-struck eyes.

"Oh, get over yourself," Josh retorted.

Dave laughed again. "Me? You're the one with the whole gaggle of girls."

I thought with a touch of relief that their conversation involving me had ended, but I soon found I was wrong. Josh just wouldn't let it go. "So what is it about this Maine girl that gives her a free pass into your life?"

Ashton sounded tired as he answered. "Dude, lay off. She's just..." I strained my ears, trying to hear what he would say next.

However, just as he was about to finish his sentence, I shifted my position, and my back responded with a deafening crack. Ouch! I felt like screeching, but that was only partially due to the pain. It was mostly due to the fact that there was no way the boys had not heard that epic back crack of the century.

I wanted nothing more than to flee. But it was too late.

I knew that by running away, I would only make myself look more conspicuous. There was no way the boys hadn't heard me. That was made evident by the silence in the kitchen.

I had no choice but to put on an act now.

All I had time to do before they spotted me, however, was step two feet away from the wall and stare down at my phone as if I had been completely invested in it the whole time.

"Maine." Ashton's voice was the first I heard. Glancing up at him in feigned surprise, I desperately hoped he wouldn't see the red in my cheeks. I was surprised to find him looking more uncomfortable than I felt.

"Oh. Yeah. Hi," I greeted, still acting as if I had not been expecting to find him there.

He simply stared. My heart racing, I glanced back down at my phone and turned off the recording. Then I began casually scrolling through my list of contacts—not that my contacts mattered at the moment. For all I knew, the next number I'd be dialing would be 911—for myself.

After the agonizing silence had stretched on a few seconds longer, Ash cleared his throat and said haltingly, "You didn't—uh—you weren't standing here for a while, were you?"

Making sure not to look up, for fear of being found out, I perhaps overstated, "Here? No. Why would I be here for a while?" After hearing how ridiculous my own voice sounded, I nervously started monkeying around with my phone again and awkwardly changed the subject. "What are we doing for lunch?"

"Lunch?" The word seemed foreign to Ashton for a whole of three seconds before he seemed to remember that we hadn't eaten yet. "Oh! Umm, what do you guys want? Pizza?"

From the entrance to the kitchen, both Dave and Josh were staring at us as if we'd morphed into aliens. Did they not believe my little stunt? Or is it because Ashton is—or was—acting awkward?

"Guys!" Ash's impatient tone roused us all from our lapse. "Pizza?"

"Pizza's fine..." Dave trailed off, before he suddenly exclaimed, "You took her with you!"

"Huh?" Ash stared at him in confusion.

In a more collected, but still accusing, tone, Josh elaborated for him, "You took her with you to see Rowlett. What were you thinking?"

Ashton glanced from his friends to me, and I knew the exact moment he realized how they'd found out. "Maine! Your face—" Suddenly he was right in front of me and holding my face at an odd angle.

Shocked by the warmth of his hands on some unknown injury, I jerked back and nearly dropped my phone. His eyes met mine, and I was even more shocked by the clear concern in his chocolate orbs. "Does it hurt?" he asked worriedly, reaching out again to brush my cheek with his thumb.

If I were being honest, I hadn't even noticed that there was a wound on my face, but it must have looked pretty bad, judging by Ashton's expression. Unsure what to do about Ashton's uncharacteristic behavior, I awkwardly batted his hand away from my cheek and said that I hadn't known about the injury. "It's more my wrist that I'm worried about," I muttered. "And my back, for that matter. The crack from before—that was my back."

My gaze flickered to Ashton's to see if he was still acting weird, and my observations didn't disappoint. He was staring at me now as if someone had slugged him in the gut. "Is that what Rowlett did to you?" he demanded, and then his gaze fell to my wrist. As soon as he noticed the purple spots, his eyes narrowed in what appeared to be wrath. I pitied any man who tried to get in Ashton's way.

"Yeah, but I'm fine," I hastily assured, tucking my hand into my back pocket.

"No, you're not fine," Ash objected. "I shouldn't have taken you with me."

"Seriously?" I asked him in disbelief. "What happened to you, Ash? You're acting all weird."

"No, I'm not," he denied, but then it seemed to catch up with him. Swallowing, he looked from me to his friends and then back. It was as if he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"See?" Josh told Dave slyly, "I told you."

"You know what?" Dave replied, still looking at Ash and me, "As crazy as it is, I'm starting to believe you."

"No!" Ash exclaimed, shooting his friends a glare. "It's not like that."

"Like what?" I muttered under my breath. I wouldn't have minded being in on whatever they were discussing telepathically. But it was clear that they weren't about to clue me in, so I returned my attention to my cell phone and looked up the nearest Domino's Pizza number. Upon finding it, I dialed in the number and brought my phone to my ear.

It seemed like no time at all before I was on my way back to work on Sunday morning. I had stayed out late Saturday night as well, having somehow been roped into hanging out with Ash and his friends. They had wanted me to stay and hang out in the garage with them, after hearing what a help I'd been to Ash last weekend.

I knew I hadn't been all that helpful, so I wasn't surprised when I realized they'd really only brought me along to tease me. The boys were quite the crew—Ash working diligently on his bike, Dave helping him, and Josh messing around with anything he could get his hands on and singing along obnoxiously to Ash's radio.

I just sat and did homework for the most part, but the boys would pull me into their conversation every now and then. By the end of the night, I was starting to get the crazy sense that they liked me. Unless they had some ulterior motive.

But it was all irrelevant, for when I returned to work the next day, Ashton was the only one there. He didn't even acknowledge me when I walked into the living room, and in a second, I knew why.

"What did I tell you about calling here?"

I nearly jumped at the sound of his voice, but then I realized he was on the phone. And he was upset, too. Freezing in my tracks, I stopped to observe the way his shoulders were tensed and the way he was clutching the telephone in his hand as if he wanted to crush it.

From behind him, all I could see was a sliver of his face, but it was enough to tell me that he was livid. And wretched too. Wretched in the same way I'd seen him last Saturday morning.

I knew I should have turned and left, but Ashton wasn't even looking at me, so I stayed rooted to the spot. Letting my curiosity get the best of me, I stayed and listened.

"What makes you think you have the right, after what you did to mom?" Ash spoke coldly into the phone, taking me by surprise. There was something seriously wrong going on, and somehow it involved Ashton's mom. But what trouble could Pamela Savvonski have possibly gotten into? She was practically an angel as far as I was concerned.

Ash went on. "You ruined us, Wade—you ruined her."

I heard a faint voice over the phone, and then Ashton bit back in that same icy tone, "No. It was you."

The exchange continued, with both sides getting louder and more livid with each line. But I only grew more befuddled as it went on, so I idiotically took a step closer. I could now hear the voice on the other end, and I found it to be a man's voice. There was no warmth in this voice—only cruelty.

"You know you can't keep secrets from me." The cruel voice was now saying. "We're family."

I felt something cold fall into the pit of my stomach as I observed Ashton's reaction. "You were never family!" He shouted before adding in a more controlled, but equally disturbed, tone, "Not after what you did."

The voice on the other end strung some sentences in response, but I could only catch the last three words. "—not my fault."

I held my breath.

There was a silence, before Ash suddenly slammed his fist against the wall beside the phone cradle. Jumping in alarm, I watched as he pressed his forehead to the wall and the muscles in his back clenched. I stepped back cautiously, waiting for him to say something. When he did, I couldn't help but flinch.

"Then whose fault is it? Mine?" he yelled into the receiver. "You did this! You killed her!"

"She knew what she was doing!" came the reply. "You shouldn't have tried to save her—she never wanted your help."

Ash cursed loudly, yanking his head from the wall. "You're sick. You and Rowlett and—"

A distorted laugh spilled through the phone. "Wake up, kid! This is the real world now."

"I already woke up!" Ash shouted in return. "I woke up the day I met you, and I wish I could forget that cursed day forever!"

He—whoever he was—started to yell something in response, but Ashton didn't wait for him. He slammed the phone into its cradle instead.

Then, whirling around to storm off, he stopped abruptly when he saw me. Eyes widening, his furious expression morphed into one of horror.

He was caught. I was caught too.

Maybe I was a fool, but somehow I couldn't stop the words. "What's going on, Ash?"

He looked positively speechless, as if I'd knocked the breath out of him just by being there. But slowly, his horror began to fade, only to be replaced by disbelief. "Were you spying on me?"

I blinked in surprise. Then, looking down in mortification, I said in a rush, "I'm sorry—I didn't mean to. I just walked in and you were—I couldn't stop myself."

When I dared to look back up at him, I found him to be tensing his jaw, as if to refrain from erupting. Ashamed, I dropped my gaze again. "I didn't hear it all—I swear I don't even know what half of it means. Please don't be mad."

Instead of yelling at me, he sucked in a breath and then let it out with a heavy sigh. He finally spoke, his voice resigned. "I'm not mad at you, Maine—I just didn't want you to find out like this."

I looked up so fast I got a crick in my neck. Wincing, I reached up to rub the back of my neck.

Not seeming to notice, Ash admitted hesitantly, "There's something you should know if you're going to work here much longer." He paused as if bracing himself for what he had to say next.

I willed him to go on, dying to know the mysteryof Ashton Savvonski. In a second, it was all laid bare. "Pam isn't my mother."