media attention had ratcheted up the paranoia he kept tamped down, and every time he tried to talk himself out of it, his brain reminded him that someone had already tried. So no, he couldn’t convince himself he was safe, because when the police had finally found the would-be intruder, the man had a hunting knife in his possession.
Aside from the police, Ignacio was the only other person who knew this detail. Ashton prayed it remained that way.
He finally closed his eyes when they got on the highway. And didn’t open them again until the SUV rolled up in front of the apartment where Ashton’s family was staying.
Ashton waited inside the vehicle while Drew—his new bodyguard friend, courtesy of Tanya—checked the sidewalk and vestibule. Ashton guessed the coast was clear, because Drew headed back over to the car. Ashton climbed out and they went inside. And although he felt weird about the whole thing, he asked Drew to wait in the lobby and make sure no one snuck up on the building.
Drew didn’t seem to think any of this was weird, because he just said, “Sure thing,” and took up a post by the door.
In his line of work, Drew had probably seen some shit Ashton didn’t even want to know about—his nightmares were bad enough already.
Upstairs, Ashton assembled his father and grandparents for a family meeting while Yadiel, up past his bedtime and riding high on his second wind, climbed on every piece of furniture in the living room.
“No veo cuál es la gran cosa,” his father said for at least the tenth time.
Ashton gritted his teeth and tried, once again, to explain why the entertainment news media dragging his name through the mud was a very big deal.
“I want Yadiel to have a normal life,” he began in Spanish, but Abuelito Gus cut him off.
“What’s normal, anyway?” The older man shrugged and gestured at the energetic boy. “He’s fine. Kids are growing up with all sorts of new concerns that we didn’t have. This is just one more.”
The memory of glass breaking echoed in Ashton’s ears. “I’m not talking about something like too much screen time. Most children don’t have photographers stalking them and printing pictures of them in magazines.”
“I don’t get enough screen time,” Yadiel muttered under his breath, and Ashton regretted bringing up what was already a sore topic in their household.
“How do you know?” Abuelito Gus held up his smartphone, challenging Ashton’s assertion. “Everyone has one of these now. Anyone could be taking pictures of him at any time.”
That argument did not make Ashton feel better. “That’s my point—”
“Verdad.” Abuelita Bibi nodded and cast on a new color of yarn to her needles. She was taking advantage of the “cooler temperatures” of New York City to get some knitting done.
It was eighty-five degrees outside.
Then Abuelita Bibi turned on Ashton with that eagle-eyed dime el bochinche expression she wore when she sniffed out gossip. “¿Y la mujer?”
“¿Qué mujer?” Did she mean Yadiel’s birth mom? The only people who knew her identity were sitting in this room. Ashton had given Yadi a choice, and the boy had decided he would wait until he was ten to be told. He viewed ten as some magical age where all sorts of information and skills—mostly regarding video games and skateboarding—would be unlocked for him.
“La nena de las telenovelas americanas,” Abuelita Bibi clarified. “Jasmita?”
“Jasmine.” Ashton corrected her before he could stop himself. The last thing he needed was his family making up nicknames for her.
“Sí.” Abuelita Bibi gave him a look like, ¿Eres estúpido? “¿Pues? ¿La mujer?”
Ashton heaved a sigh. “We’re just . . .” The word friends turned to ashes on his tongue. “No sé.”
He had no idea. In all likelihood, Jasmine would never want to speak to him again. Regret hung like a lead weight around his neck, but it was an emotion he didn’t have the bandwidth to indulge.
Abuelito Gus wiggled his eyebrows. “Ella es muy hermosa.”
It was on the tip of Ashton’s tongue to extol her other virtues. Yes, Jasmine was beautiful, but she was also so much more than—
Ashton sighed. They were trying to change the subject and get him to come clean on the truth about his tryst with Jasmine, but he wasn’t ready to do that yet. The wounds were too fresh, hastily bandaged so he could get through the current crisis. But sometime soon, he’d have to poke at them, and then he’d become fully aware of everything he’d sacrificed. He’d been fooling