Page 101 of Thorns and Ashes
“Fred?”
“Yeah,” I grumble. “Billy says I can meet him tonight.”
“Ah, yeah, he’s usually hanging around,” Tom replies, his tone turning amused before something crashes in the background.
“Ah, no, Sunny, don’t throw that,” he says further from the phone before returning. “Come out later man, I gotta go.”
I’m still shaking my head with a grin on my face imagining the kind of trouble Sunny is causing this morning when the line clicks.
I pull up the drive and smile when I see Tris in her usual spot on the porch, sipping her coffee. She’s a morning person, which I will never personally understand, but she’s certainly the best part of mine.
“Good morning, handsome.” She smiles at me from behind her coffee cup as I walk up the steps.
“Good morning.” I press a soft kiss to her lips, deepening it when she hums into the touch.
The rocking chair creaks softly as I lower myself into it beside her. I barely have a chance to settle before Ellie pads over, tail wagging, and promptly drops her head into my lap like she’s saying, “What about me?” I laugh, running a hand down her neck as she sighs in contentment.
“Good morning to you, too.” I scratch behind her ears, dragging my fingers through the soft fur along the top of her head. Her eyes slip closed as she leans into the touch, tail thumping lazily against the porch while I keep rubbing until she finally seems satisfied.
Movement beside me catches my eye. Tris is sitting with her knees pulled up, an open envelope resting in her lap, her fingers tracing the edge of it like it weighs more than it does.
“What’s that?” I ask, nodding toward it.
She lets out a long breath, her shoulders dropping as she hands me the letter, holding it with pinched fingers like it’s something dirty.
“This is an invitation to my mother and father’s attempt to stay relevant and in the social graces of high society,” she says, her words dripping with disdain.
I open the envelope to see that it’s an invitation, an overly fancy one that you’d expect to see for weddings, requesting the attendance of a “Miss Thorne” for a soirée being held next Wednesday at one of the lake houses on Turtle Bay. Tilting my head, I scratch at my beard, brushing my hand over it as I read it one more time in an attempt to understand.
“Isn’t your dad in jail for something?” I finally ask.
“He probably should be,” she scoffs, pulling at the blanket lying over her shoulders. “No, apparently Mr. Arias found it in his heart to pay my father’s bail, so daddy and mommy dearest are celebrating my father’s freedom with this masquerade of a pre-Thanksgiving party.” She sips her coffee and shakes her head. “A little premature and distasteful if you ask me, considering the judge hasn’t officially decided his fate yet. However, leave it to my father to believe he’s untouchable.”
Tris’s whole body is rigid with the intensity of her disapproval. Hearing her speak like this, sharp and cold, reminds me of the Tris I met when I first arrived here at Turtle Bay, and it sends a cold shiver down the back of my neck and unsettles something inside me.
“Did you say, Mr. Arias? As in the big Arias Oil Corporation?” I ask carefully, dread filling me as my mind begins to connect the dots that I wish weren’t there.
“That’s the one,” she mutters.
My jaw clenches, and the invitation in my hand becomes blurry. “What was your father arrested for?”
“Ha,” she huffs. “Let’s see, allegedly...” She puts up her hand and makes an air quote. “Fraud and conspiracy were the ones I knew about at first... But now? Falsification of Corporate Records, Corporate Officer Fraud, Reckless Causing of a Fire, and my personal new favorite, Involuntary Manslaughter. It seems that the list of what he’s being accused of grows every day. Not that it matters if they can’t prove he knew or was involved.”
When I don’t respond right away, Tris turns to look at me.
“You okay?” she asks.
I can’t answer. My jaw clenches so tight, and ice fills my veins as the gravity of what she’s said sinks in. The hidden layer of our connection is coming to the surface in a way I never expected and can’t wrap my mind around. It shakes me to my core, and my chest aches with the implications of what this means. I hand her back the invitation and rub my hand over my face, looking off into the tree line, trying to find something to lock onto to calm myself down.
“Levi?” Tris asks, her voice wavering with concern.
“The wildfire that killed Krystal, the one that left me,” I point to my neck and shoulder, “like this.”
I grip my knees, squeezing them, as a low grunt of frustration escapes me.
“Tris... Arias Oil doesn’t drill near Shasta Ridge,” I say slowly, letting the pieces come together. “They drill miles away. But they do run something through there.”
My jaw tightens.
