Page 58 of Entwined
Vaughn might have tried to ruin me, but he couldn’t take everything. I still had the wealth I’d inherited, still held onto the stock in Ashworth Financial that my late husband had willed to me. Vaughn’s betrayal stung, but I wasn’t broken. Not yet.
After buying a burner phone, I called Easton. “I need you to handle the deposit on the house,” I said, keeping my voice low. “And the year’s rent upfront. The owner requires a wire transfer. I’ll pay you back in cash.”
He didn’t ask questions, just agreed. That was Easton—loyal, always.
The house was small but beautiful. The yard was a splash of color, lined with blooming hydrangeas, roses, and azaleas. A barren patch of land in the corner caught my eye. I called the landlord, asking if I could plant a vegetable garden there. He was happy to let me. I hadn’t grown anything in years, not since I was a child helping the gardener in the greenhouse at the Ashworth mansion.
I smiled, remembering those days. My mother used to cook with the vegetables we grew, making meals for the Ashworths, then taking some home for us. I missed that. I missed my parents, my old life. I missed being anonymous.
The house came furnished, but there were no linens, no kitchen supplies, none of the essentials. I ventured out to the local stores, pushing a cart down aisles filled with things I’d never thought I’d need to buy myself. Sheets, towels, pots, and pans.I indulged a little, too, tossing in peanut butter cups, Snickers, and M&M’s—things I rarely ate but couldn’t resist.
I tipped the cab driver an extra twenty to help me carry everything inside. Once alone, I set to work. I scrubbed the bathrooms, wiped down the counters, vacuumed and mopped the floors. It felt good—almost cathartic—to clean like this. To feel normal. Like I was myself again, not some woman tangled in Vaughn’s web.
After everything was in order, I sat out on the back porch. The sounds of summer surrounded me—children laughing in the distance, the hum of passing cars, and the occasional horn from a boat down by the harbor. For the first time in what felt like years, I was at peace.
“Joey?”
I jumped at the sound of my name, whipping around to see Easton standing at the bottom of the stairs, a small grin tugging at his lips.
“Easton!” I stood, startled. “What are you doing here?”
“I missed you,” he said, shrugging. “I knocked, but no answer.”
I rushed down the stairs, throwing my arms around him, grateful to have a friend here. “Thank you,” I whispered, squeezing him tight. “Thank you for everything—for taking care of the lease.”
He hugged me back, his grip firm. “He’s looking for you, Joey. Vaughn’s pissed.” He pulled away, his eyes searching mine. “You screwed him over, didn’t you?”
I took a deep breath, stepping back. “One good turn, right? He screwed me, so I screwed him. The deed transfer never wentthrough.” My lips curled into a smile. “I’ll burn that damn house to the ground before I let him have it.”
Easton’s expression softened, impressed. He reached into his jacket and handed me a thick envelope, pressing it into my hands. “Here. Some cash. Just in case you need it for a while.”
I kissed his cheek, feeling a rush of warmth. “I won’t use my credit cards or my bank account,” I said. “I don’t want Vaughn tracing anything. Only call me on the burner phone. Make sure Logan and Simone know too.”
He nodded, his face serious. “I will. Don’t worry.”
Then his expression softened into a smile. “Can you put me up for the night? That drive was brutal.”
I clapped my hands together. “Of course! I’d love it. I’ll make us dinner.”
“Can’t wait,” he said, following me inside.
We talked for hours, sitting in the cozy kitchen, catching up on everything and nothing. For dinner, I made pasta primavera and fresh lemonade with mint—something I hadn’t touched since Simone’s little accident with the drugs. We laughed, joked, and for a few moments, it was as if the weight of the last two years had lifted.
But as I glanced out the window, watching the twilight settle over the small town, I knew this peace was fragile. Vaughn wasn’t done with me. But he had no idea what I was capable of.
Two could play this game.
Three days later, I woke to the worst wave of nausea I’d ever felt. My stomach twisted violently, forcing me out of bed and down the hall toward the bathroom. I barely made it, collapsing over the toilet as my body heaved painfully. But there was nothing to expel but bile. I hadn’t eaten in hours.
I rinsed my mouth, the sour taste lingering as I splashed water on my face. It felt like just another symptom of the stress I’d been under. Vaughn’s betrayal still echoed in my mind, but I pushed it aside and went about my day.
I had plans—small ones, but enough to keep me distracted. Today, I’d plant the tomato plants I’d picked up at Mystic Nursery a few days ago. I also had fresh basil for pesto, mint for lemonade, and a handful of other vegetables to make this place feel more like home. Maybe nurturing something would ease the chaos in my head.
I knelt down in the soft earth, my hands working rhythmically as I planted the seedlings into the soil. But as soon as I bent down to pat the dirt around one of the plants, another wave of nausea hit me, stronger this time. I doubled over, retching into the grass beside me.
I sat back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, and stared at the ground for a long moment. Then, it hit me—I wasn’t sick. I was pregnant.
The realization settled over me, sinking deep into my bones. I knew this feeling too well. The nausea, the exhaustion. The waymy body was betraying me. As I counted back the weeks, panic bubbled up inside me. I was late. Three weeks late for my shot.
