Page 50 of Give Me Strength

This mansion, with its sprawling grounds and top-of-the-line security system, is more than just our home; it’s our sanctuary.

I follow her inside, feeling the cool evening air dissipate as the door closes behind us. She heads upstairs, and it takes everything in me not to follow her. I linger at the foot of the stairs for a moment, the day’s events replaying in my mind. Her resilience in the face of those hurtful comments impresses me, but it also stirs a deep sense of frustration and protectiveness within me.

I know I can’t fight her battles for her, but I’ll always be by her side, supporting her as she finds her way in this complex, often unforgiving world.

23

GILBERT

Eventually, I make my way upstairs and to my bedroom, shedding my shirt and slacks before stepping into the shower. The hot water cascades over me, washing away the tension of the day, but Ashlynn’s words linger in my mind.

Despite her nonchalant approach, I can tell that being the topic of gossip at the studio bothers her, and it weighs heavily on my mind. I wish I could do more to shield her from the cruelty of her peers, but I know she must navigate her own path.

That, and I’m still unsettled by my conversation with Principal Richardson a few weeks ago. Sadly, it hasn’t made much of a difference. There have been fifteen trespass incidents at the Crane house since, and the security company now has the police on speed dial. It has all been students from Bluegrass High School, all juvenile delinquents looking for an adult-free house to hang out in.

I want it to stop. Will does, too, but he wants to wait until Bonnie returns. He also said there’s more to it than simple trespassing. We haven’t had the chance to check in with Bonnie since her assignment was extended. I know she has been checking in regularly with Ashlynn, at least once a week. I don’t want Ashlynn worrying about this too, so in the meantime, we’re letting the justice system do its thing.

After drying off, I change into something more comfortable for the evening: gray sweatpants and a soft white t-shirt. I head downstairs to the kitchen, intent on making her tea for a change. The room is quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the refrigerator. I pull out the jar of “Sweet Dreams” tea, a soothing blend of chamomile and lavender she loves.

As the fragrant steam rises from the cup, I hear footsteps approaching. Turning, I find her already there. She’s changed into a cozy cream sweater and navy leggings, her hair still damp from a shower.

“Great minds think alike,” I quip, holding up the mug.

She laughs softly, the sound light and genuine. “Looks like it. Thanks. Gilbert.”

I hand her the steaming cup, our fingers brushing briefly. “Sit with me for a bit?” I ask, nodding toward the island.

“Sure.” She hops onto one of the stools, and I take the seat opposite her, cradling my own cup of tea.

“Melissa said yes,” I blurt out. I’ve been sitting on this news all day.

Her smile widens, a flicker of warmth in her eyes. “When does she start?”

“Tomorrow. You’ll get to eat some real food for a change, not just bland… crap.”

She chuckles. “Can I be the one to fire the catering company?”

“Please. I hate doing it.”

“Lucky for you, I’m known for my abrasiveness.”

We sit in companionable silence, the kitchen filled with the comforting scent of jasmine and the weight of unspoken understanding hanging between us. Ashlynn sips her tea, the steam curling around her face like a comforting embrace.

“Are you free tomorrow?” she asks, breaking the silence. “Say, around 1:00 P.M?”

“I could be. Why?”

Ashlynn takes a sip of her tea. “Principal Richardson wants to talk.”

“She does, doesn’t she? Did she say why?”

She shakes her head. “We didn’t get that far. She tried, but I told her what you said: that she’s not allowed to talk to me without you or Mr. Greenfield present. You should’ve seen her face. Or heard the expletives she spewed at me.”

That raises the hairs on the back of my neck. “She did what?”

“She’s usually a lot more subtle about it,” she says as she retrieves her phone from her pocket, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Her secretary had to interrupt her this time because the other teachers could hear her from the staff lounge. Wanna hear?”

“You recorded it?”

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