Page 1 of Losing Ansley

CHAPTER ONE

ANSLEY

SEVEN YEARSEarlier

My parents are dead. My parents and Lincoln's parents are dead. On their way home from a double date, they were sideswiped by an eighteen-wheeler and went into oncoming traffic. Their car flipped three times, and none of them survived.

Staring at my ceiling, I will the tears to come, but they don't. You'd think I would have cried when we found out about their accident or even at the funeral this afternoon. But nothing. After several minutes of squeezing my eyes and scrunching my forehead to try and get the reaction that should come, I sit up in my bed and huff.

I should feel sadness, grief, or some other emotion besides relief. I walk to my door and open it, glancing down the hall toward Dylan's room. He's been in denial for thirteen years that our parents treated us differently, but after the will was read yesterday, he's accepted that our parents did not love me the way they loved him after that fateful day.

At the funeral today, he showed less emotion than I did. I faked it, at least. I sniffed at the appropriate times and brought the handkerchief up to wipe away imaginary tears. Dylan stood with his arms crossed or in his pockets. He's angry and overcome with guilt.

And though he won't admit it, he's grieving. He's been holed up in his room since everyone left. Walking down the hallway, I stop in front of his room. I'm about to knock on the door when it swings open, and Rose walks out. She stops short when she notices me.

"Ansley, hey." She greets me, and I step back, giving her a small smile.

"Hey. Sorry, I didn't know you were still here." I reply. She steps toward me, but I take another step back.

"You don't have to apologize. I stayed to check on Dylan." My eyes travel down her body as she stands in only my brother's t-shirt. I'm sure she stayed to check on him and to make him feel better. She turns back toward the bedroom, her curly blond hair bouncing.

"He's in the shower, but he'll be out in a minute if you want to see him." She offers. I swallow and shake my head.

"No. It's okay. I'll talk to him tomorrow." I assure her. Rose tilts her head at me, and I look away. Rose is going to school to be a psychiatrist, and I always feel like she's examining me. She hasn't ever given me a reason to think that. It's not like she tries to make me talk beyond what I'm willing to, but she observes more than she lets on.

"I'm headed to the kitchen to grab a snack and something to drink. Want me to make you a sandwich or something?" She asks, and I'm not prepared for the emotions that choke up my throat. My parents just died, but this almost makes me cry. I clear my throat and shake my head.

"No, it's okay. I'm going to go back to sleep. I'll see you two tomorrow." I give her a small wave and walk back toward my room. She watches me for a few seconds before turning and heading downstairs. I hide in the shadows until she's gone, then tiptoe to the stairs and glance down. She's made it to the kitchen, so I quickly walk downstairs and to the door leading out to the garage.

At the sight of my dad's Corvette looking pristine, expecting to be driven tomorrow, I bite down hard on my tongue. I always wanted that car, but he made it clear it would belong to Dylan one day. And now it does, to Dylan's dismay.

I walk to the door leading outside and open it, glancing up at the house next door and looking for Lincoln's window. His light is still on, so I go to the terrace, climb up the makeshift ladder to the awning, and scoot to his window. He's sitting on his chair beside the bed, looking at his laptop.

I tap on the glass, and his head snaps in my direction. Waving at him, he stands, walks to the window, and opens it. I climb in, and my eyes fall to his chest. He's wearing gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips and no shirt. I'm suddenly aware that I'm wearing my pajama shorts and a thin t-shirt that shows off my midriff.

"Ansley? What are you doing?" He questions. Swallowing, I force my eyes to his and clear my throat.

"I... Umm..." I lift my shoulders and hands. "I didn't want to be alone." It takes a lot to admit that to him, but it'll work, and he won't send me away. He'll always go out of his way to be there for me.

I found that out the night that I got drunk off my ass and was too scared to call my parents. Lincoln drove an hour to pick me up, and then he helped sober me up so my parents would never find out.

I've known Lincoln since I was born. He's my brother's best friend and my frenemy. When I was a kid, I was determined I'd marry him one day, but now that's impossible. He'll never take the stick that's up his ass out long enough to admit he has any feelings for me. He's been pushing me away since I was sixteen.

"Why didn't you hang out with Dylan?" He questions as he grabs a discarded t-shirt and pulls it on, to my disappointment. I sit on the edge of his bed and pull my feet under me.

"Rose is over there. They're having relations." He arches an eyebrow at me.

"Relations?" He chuckles, and I groan.

"What do you want me to say? They're fucking." He narrows his eyes at me.

"Watch your language." I roll my eyes and put my chin in my hand as I lean my elbow against my leg.

"Whatever. I'm eighteen. I can say whatever the hell I want." I snap at him, and he takes a step closer, his eyes darkening. I've always loved doing this with him. Pissing him off is one of my favorite pastimes.

"Ansley." He warns, and I smirk up at him.

"What are you going to do? Spank me?" He takes another step toward me as he clenches and flexes his hand, and I bite the inside of my cheek. I wonder how far I could push him until he gives in to whatever the hell is between us. He refuses to admit it, but I notice how he watches me because I watch him too.

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