Page 83 of Resist

Unfortunately, she had experience with this part, because she knew exactly what to say.

“Goodbye, Eli.”

Her brother swallowed heavily, then nodded, and—like father, like son—left without saying goodbye back.

* * *

Coulton checked his phone for the millionth time. He’d sent Ainsley a few texts since returning home. A silly gif to wish her a happy Thanksgiving, then an invitation to join him and his parents for dinner. In the last one, he told her how much he’d missed her, asking if she wanted to get together soon.

He could see she’d read all of them, so her silence was bothering him. Especially since their last text exchange from yesterday—while brief—had been playful and funny.

“Still no response?”

Coulton shook his head. Upon first arriving home, his parents had both inundated him with questions about Ainsley, whom they were excited to meet.

He’d answered every single question, then he opened up and shared…well…basically everything. His mom and dad weren’t just his parents; they were two of his best friends and, as such, he had spent a lifetime telling them everything. And because they were amazing, they responded just as he expected. They were outraged by her father’s and brother’s treatment of her, concerned about the fact she was working herself to exhaustion and not eating enough, and anxious to spread some of that spoiling they did of him to Ainsley.

Mom was currently in the kitchen, working on Thanksgiving dinner. Coulton had offered to help, but she knew how hard it was for him to sleep on the plane, so she’d insisted he relax on the couch and visit with Dad, who was playing with Sofia.

“I’m starting to worry,” Coulton confessed.

Dad grinned. “I’ve never seen you like this over a woman.”

Coulton didn’t bother to deny he was completely smitten over Ainsley.

“She’s most likely busy,” Dad pointed out. “Didn’t you say she was opening the tavern today?”

“Yeah.” Coulton glanced at the time on his phone. “She usually opens around noon.” It was close to three, so he supposed Dad could be right. Regardless, he hated that she was working through the holiday. If anyone needed a break, it was Ainsley. He was going to work overtime to convince her to close the tavern for a few days around Christmas.

“Coulton,” Mom said, stepping into the living room, her phone in hand.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, when he noticed her distressed expression.

“I was scrolling through Facebook while I waited for the timer on the sweet potato casserole to go off.” She held her phone out to him. “Have you seen the post about what you’re thankful for on the Stingrays page?”

Coulton shook his head, reaching for Mom’s phone. The second he saw the photo, he rose.

“Shit.”

Dad stood as well, alarmed. “What is it?”

“I didn’t have a chance to tell Ainsley about seeing Evelyn yet.”

Dad put Sofia back in her cage after Mom showed him the post, while Coulton looked for his car keys.

He needed to clear things up with his girl.

“Mom,” Coulton said, as he started toward the hallway.

“I’ll put dinner on hold,” she said, perfectly aware of what he was going to say. “You go make things right with Ainsley.”

He nodded, walking into his bedroom and sinking down on the bed to put on his shoes. He’d just tied the first tennis shoe when his phone rang.

His heart raced—with relief and fear—when he saw Ainsley’s name on the screen. “Ains,” he said, answering immediately. “Listen, about that picture on Facebook,” he started. That was as far as he got before she interrupted him.

“Can you come to the tavern?” she asked, in a voice that was all kinds of wrong.

“Yes. I’m on my way right now.” He finished tying the other shoe, his phone cradled between his ear and shoulder. “Are you okay?”

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