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“They’re not symbolic of anything,” I say through gritted teeth.

“No. I’ll update my notes accordingly.”

His voice is so dry, I look up at him. His mouth does that almost-smile again.

I shouldn't like it.

I absolutely shouldn't.

“What kind of friend were you to Ben?” I ask, mostly to redirect myself.

Ashby takes his time. “The kind who tracked what he owed, covered what he couldn’t, and pretended not to know when pride mattered more than thanks.”

That sounds so painfully like Ben, I have to close my eyes. “He borrowed money from you?”

“Sometimes.”

“I can pay⁠—”

“No.”

I bristle. “You don’t know what I was going to say.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I don’t like debts.”

“Neither do I.” He shrugs. “Ben’s aren't yours.”

“They’re family debts.”

“They’re settled.”

My throat tightens again. “You shouldn’t have had to cover him.”

“I didn’t have to. I chose to.”

“Why?”

Ashby looks across the river. “Because he once noticed my sister needed help before I did.”

I go still. “Really?”

“Emily was younger. Angry. Running with people who found angry girls of use in their schemes.” His tone bites a little. “Ben saw her outside The Mile Marker one night with a man twice her age who had no good reason to be offering her a ride. He intervened.”

“How?”

“He was charming at first.”

My mouth curves upward. “That’s Ben.”

“Then he was less charming.”

“That Ben too.”

Ashby’s mouth tightens. “He called me after. Said he didn’t want to make it a thing but thought I should know. Emily hated us both for six months.”

“But she was safe.”