“Before you tell me it’s none of my business, I’m making it my business. I care about you, Dahlia.”
Warmth bubbled in my stomach. He’d said he wanted me before, but caring was significant.
“Yes, by the way,” I said.
“What? I’m not following you . . . It’s probably the concussion.” His voice roughened with concern. “Have Abbi drive you to the hospital. Right now.”
“You can read my new manuscript. When it’s finished.”
“You started?” His voice seemed to smile, causing the warmth to spread through my chest. “Put in some hot sex scenes.”
“You did not just say that.”
“Hey, it’s the only sex I’m going to be seeing or having. Make it hot.”
“I’m going to hang up now.”
“One more thing.”
“What?” I said, biting my lip to keep from smiling.
“I want to come out and see you.”
The bubbles of happiness multiplied exponentially, spreading through my whole body, making me lightheaded.
“We’ll collaborate on the sound track,” he said.
The bubbles all popped. “It may fall through. I have a few days to get my ending in.”
“You’ll get it done.”
“I’m not sure I deserve that kind of faith. I don’t want to make your life harder, Asher.”
“I really want to do this sound track if I can get Jessica off my back. I talked to Bill earlier, and he’s on board. The other guys will love it. Look, I want to see you. I’ll bring Mason. He’s on his Easter break.”
“What are you going to tell Jessica?”
“The truth. We’ll get some work done on our project while I’m there, but I mostly need to make sure you’re okay. I’m coming no matter what. I just hoped you’d want me there.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
He was quiet for a long minute. Noise from the bar, mainly laughter, sifted through his phone. “Know how we talked about friends? You offered, and I really need one now.”
I gripped the phone, feeling some of his pain through the thin piece of plastic. “Then you’re invited,” I whispered.
“Good. Take down your dating profile.”
“How did you know about that?” I gasped.
“You linked it to your Facebook account. All those guys are assholes. You can do a lot better.”
“Who says I’m looking for anything more than a satisfying screw?” I demanded.
“You’re better than that, Dahlia Moore Dorsey. Take it down. Please. I’ll send you flight details.”
“You’re pushy.”
“And you’re stubborn,” he said. I could tell he was smiling. “I can’t wait to see what color your face is when I get there.”
I gasped once more. “I revoke your invitation.”
“Too late. I accepted. See you in a few days. And call someone if the pain gets worse or you see double.”
“You know a lot about concussion symptoms,” I fussed.
“Too much. Night, Dahlia.”
“Night, Tristan Asher Smith.”
“You have no idea how much I like hearing my name from your mouth.” He hung up the phone.
When I struggled to get up, Abbi was by my side, helping me.
“Did you listen to my conversation?” I asked, exasperated.
“No. Swear on Dad’s grave. But I now have Asher Smith’s cell number in my phone.” She grinned at the device.
“Don’t you dare hand out his number.”
“Totally get that, Mom.” Her face fell, her eyes filling with tears when she touched my cheek. “I’m really sorry about tonight.”
“My head hurts,” I mumbled, my eyes sagging.
“Let’s get you to bed.”
16
Asher
As I ended the call, Simon folded his hands on the table and met my challenging gaze. “I like you, Asher. I respect you as a musician.”
“But?” I settled back in my chair, sipping my new beer.
“Actually no ‘but.’ I think you’ll be good for Lia. She’d be pissed I said that. But you need to know that Lia’s changed a lot since you knew her. Mostly because of Doug.”
“Got that. She deserves to be happy.”
Simon met my eyes, his holding a type of misery I knew mine reflected. We had different reasons for hurting over situations we couldn’t change, but I appreciated his willingness to share.
“She does. She and Doug, they met when she transferred into high school partway through her freshman year. Her dad was killed on some military mission.”
“She told me that.”
Simon’s eyebrow rose to his hairline. “She doesn’t like to talk about her parents.” Simon stared down into his beer, lost in some memory. “I’ve never seen two people so involved in each other. The rest of us always felt like we were intruding.” He smiled. “I tried to find something like that until I realized it was unhealthy.”
“If you’re trying to make me jealous, it’s working.” I took a sip of my drink, enjoying the thick slide of hops across my tongue. At his look, I shook my head. “I left Cactus Arrow because I wanted Dahlia myself.”
Simon nodded. “I wondered. ‘Moonshine Eyes,’ that’s Dahlia?”
I nodded. Simon blew out a breath.
“When Doug found out he was sick, he became obsessive, hurtful.”
There was an underlying story there. I could hear it in Simon’s slight hesitation.
“Huntington’s screws with your brain. I needed to believe it was the disease and not my brother doing those things. But . . .” Simon’s lips folded inward, and he dropped his gaze from mine.
I turned to stare out the window at the hazy Seattle night. Lights winked in all directions. A huge sprawl that balanced at the edge of Puget Sound. Sadness had filled Lia’s eyes when she said she didn’t believe in love anymore. Death wouldn’t have stripped her of that core belief.
But betrayal would have.
Simon swallowed hard. “I’m not sure what you’ve got going on in your life, but Lia hasn’t dealt with all the baggage Doug dumped on her. She’ll tell you she doesn’t want another rocker, that the lifestyle sucks.”
“Noted,” I grunted. I scrubbed my hands over my face. “You don’t think I’m good enough for her.”
Simon considered that. “No, that’s not it. I want her to be happy.”
“Doug screwed around, didn’t he?”
“We know how easy sex can be when you’re an entertainer.” Simon swallowed the last of his beer, his thumb moving up to circle the rim of his glass.
“Yeah, I do.” I pushed back from the table. “I think I’m going to head back to my place.”
I followed Simon out the door. Stopping, I looked up at the cloudy sky. The raging burn I’d felt when I walked into the bar had been replaced by anticipation.
I’d inserted myself into Dahlia’s life, which was more complicated than I’d anticipated. I was smart enough to know she was hesitant about what my visit meant. If I were honest with myself, I wasn’t sure what it meant either.
All I knew was that I needed to see her, and more, I liked how much calmer and focused I was when I was near her.
17
Dahlia
I woke up with a face inches from mine. I couldn’t make out any features, but I knew it wasn’t Abbi. The eyes were lighter, not the violet-blue I knew best. I screamed and flailed, managing to knock my sister in the mouth. My battered face throbbed in response, and I groaned.
“Dammit, Lia, that hurt.” Briar dabbed at her lip, her brow scrunched.
“My face isn’t real happy about this wake-up either. What were you doing?”
“I was looking at the cut on your forehead. You know, the reason I came to visit.”
She sat on the edge of the bed and took my chin in her hand, turning my face enough to see the bruise on my left cheekbone.
“That hurts. You weren’t supposed to come until mor
ning.”
“It’s almost afternoon.”
“Really?”
Briar nodded.
“I woke up at two in the morning and couldn’t go back to sleep for a while so I worked on my material for HBO.”
“How’d that go?”
“I’m not sure.”
Briar hugged me, her long arms winding around me like Dad’s used to. I hugged her back just as hard.
“I’m so proud of you for taking back your life,” Briar said. She sat back and tipped my chin again. “That bruise is a doozy. The cut, thankfully, didn’t go down to the next level of tissue. But you do need to keep it clean and the scab moist to avoid scarring.”
“Thank you, Dr. Moore.”
The skin around her eyes tightened. “I’m dating a doctor.”
“Sorry, Bri. That was insensitive.”
“Premed classes were a long time ago, but I do remember quite a bit.”
Doug’s illness had affected my sister, too. She’d been so set to be a doctor until we found out Doug’s timeline had shrunk. Briar switched her major to journalism a week later, unable to handle the idea of losing people she cared about. We’d both had plenty of grief in our lives, and seeking out more was self-flagellation. At least that’s what Briar had told me then.
“So . . . tell me about Asher. Abbi said he called you last night.”
“He’s my friend.”
“You lack some important gene. I’d say its romance, but I’ve read your books. It’s not imagination either because some of those positions you wrote about took a lot of creative thinking.”
“I like him. A lot. But he’s even more entrenched in the rocker lifestyle than Doug ever was. So liking him is a huge mistake that’ll end up breaking my heart. Again.”
Briar pursed her lips. Instead of arguing like I expected her to, she dropped her head. “I don’t want to fight with you, Lia. I came to help my big sister. This is a first for me, and I’d really like to have a better experience than pretty much any other time in our relationship.”
I ran my hand over her hair, like I used to. I could tell my injury wasn’t the only reason Briar was here. “Be straight with me, then. You came out here because you’re running from something.”
She looked up, and I wasn’t surprised to see the tears in her eyes.
“You always know.” She sighed, fighting her tears. “Ken wants me to get pregnant. He says I’m too focused on my work.”
“You’re thirty years old, Sweet Briar,” I said, falling back on our Dad’s nickname for her. “If you aren’t ready for babies, he needs to respect how you feel.”
“Why can’t he see that I like my job and I’m good at it?”
“The real reason?” I asked.
“Of course.”
“Because he’s a selfish asshole.”
Briar slid across the bottom of my bed. “He’s a rich asshole.”
“You aren’t going to be hungry again, Briar. You’re the editor-in-chief for a well-respected newspaper. You’ve been offered a book deal, and you can probably go to any paper in any city in the country. Plus, I won’t let you starve. Once was enough.”
I gripped my stomach, remembering those weeks before our mom came to get us. They’d shaped Briar and me so differently. I’d launched myself at the first person to show me affection, never wavering in my loyalty to Doug. Briar became introspective, standoffish, not the gregarious little girl I remembered.
“I needed to hear that,” Briar sighed. “It’s one of the reasons I came out here. Don’t be mad, but it’s also a business trip. I’m going to meet with the head of papers in Spokane and maybe Boise.”
“Good. Build the life that makes you happy, Briar.”
She gave a weak smile and said, “Back to Asher Smith.”
“He’s nice,” I sighed. “Nicer than I expected.”
“Mmm. Not the adjective I would have chosen, but go on.”
“He’s coming to see me. He’s bringing his son out for Easter.”
Briar scrambled up to her knees, her eyes huge. “Holy shit-cakes! We have so much to do.”
“Why? He’s just coming to hang out. We’re collaborating on a sound track. Well, maybe. If I can write something Garcia and Paul like.”
“Yeah, yeah. We both use language in our jobs. Think what collaborate means, Lia.”
Briar ran to my closet. Clothes flew out, a huge pile forming. “You went shopping. Thank God. Abbi can spend the night with her friend Sally. You’re coming to Spokane with me, and I’m getting you all sex-kittened up.”
I would have gaped at her, but my face hurt too much. “You are not sex-kittening me.”
“Full leg wax. Maybe a Brazilian. It’s all the rage these days.”
“Stop. I’m not having sex with Asher. Despite the fact I realized I miss it,” I muttered, flopping back against the pillow, which made my face throb. “Speaking of, Asher made me promise to take down my dating profile. Not hard to promise when my two dates were such disasters.”
Briar stared at me, looking like a fish too long out of water.
“Waxing appointment. Then new underwear. Get in the shower. I’m calling Rhonda right now. She’ll understand.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Don’t boss me around, Briar.”
“Then stop being an idiot. You’d really ruin a chance with the man you’ve pined for since you were a teenager? This is a second chance at something amazing.” Briar pointed her finger at me, her voice going low and serious. “I refuse to let you screw this up. I understand why you wouldn’t trust him, but he’s not Doug.”
My chest tightened with the old, familiar pain. “I shouldn’t have told you anything.”
“I was here. I saw your face when you found out the truth about Doug.” Briar sat on the edge of the bed and gripped my hand. “Doug hurt you, Lia. I’d be gun-shy a second time, too. But Asher is older, more established, and I bet he’s looking for something that’ll last.”
“You can’t know that.” I tamped down the burgeoning hope. “He’s getting a divorce.”
“From a woman who treats him like Doug treated you. Marriage vows mean something. Faithfulness means something.” Her eyes were earnest, her voice firm. “Get up. You’re getting your head looked at by a plastic surgeon in a couple hours. Ken set it up. It’s his way to try to get me pregnant.”
“How is a plastic surgery appointment for me going to make you pregnant?”
“He thinks he’ll weasel me off the pill if he’s nice to you. He knows you don’t like him, so he’s sucking up.”
“I still don’t like him.”
“He got you an appointment with the best plastic surgeon in the area so you have to say thank you. You don’t want to look any uglier than you have to when Asher’s kissing you senseless.”
“If we get involved now, I’d just be his rebound relationship.” I nibbled the corner of my lip, considering. Then I shrugged. “Mine, too, I guess.”
“He’d be a gorgeous mistake.”
No. Asher wouldn’t be a mistake. But he could very easily break my heart. “I have to make sure whatever we have is worth the hurt when it ends.”
Briar stood, arms crossed, toe tapping. “Oh, it will be. We’re buying some good beer. I read he likes microbrews. The least you can do is show some hospitality.”
“Sure.” I stood, stretched, winced, and headed to the bathroom. “Thanks for coming, Briar. I’m glad to see you.”
The water felt wonderful, easing the tightness and removing the bloody crust from my skin. I washed my hair and even used my leave-in conditioner, enjoying the few minutes of pampering.
I put on a button-down top and a pair of my new jeans, glad to be out of my blood-caked clothes.
“Thanks for putting the sheets in the wash,” I said as I walked into the kitchen. Even though it was nearly one, Briar handed me a cup of coffee, doctored with a half-teaspoon of sugar and two painkillers. I sipped and said, “Smells good. Need any help?”
<
br /> “No, even I can manage toasted cheese and soup. I’m not sure your cheek’ll be able to handle the sandwich, but I love them with tomato soup.”
“Yeah, I remember Mom making those for us when we were little.”
Briar’s hand stilled. “You got the good memories. The only ones I have of her are when we moved up to Seattle, and it was obvious she didn’t want her old life mixing with her new one. She was so much happier back in the Northwest. She was never meant to be an army captain’s wife.”
I walked around the counter and put my arm around my sister, who was nearly four inches taller than me. “Moving back to Seattle after she left Dad made her happy. But I’m sorry she’s the way she is.”
“I can’t believe she let you move out at seventeen.”
Mom helped me pack, relieved to get me, the rebellious, angry daughter, out of the house. If I’d left a few weeks earlier, my life may have been very different. I’d met Asher then, during the time Mom tried to shorten my leash. That just made our fights even more intense and was part of the reason Doug asked me to move in with him. I’d been more than happy to leave my mom’s house and our angry altercations. By the time I was settled in Doug’s apartment, Asher was leaving the band.
Briar shook her head, her lips twisting with disgust and anger. I understood those feelings. With Mom, they went together.
“I mean, who just leaves their kids to start a whole new family? That’s so . . .”
“Mom,” I said. “We can’t change her or our past. Or the fact she named us after flowers while her new kids got real names.”
“Preslee’s not that normal a name.”
I tipped my head, acknowledging her point. “She doesn’t know how to connect with us anymore than we know how to talk to her,” I said. “I mean, Mom and Preslee get along well.” My eyes wandered to the stove. “Stir the pot before the soup burns.”
I tucked away my what-ifs. Those were fantasies I’d never experience. I couldn’t experience those unfulfilled wishes in real life, but Lia Moore could write an alternate life, the one I could’ve had with Asher all those years ago. Those fantasies were what I’d written last night.
Sweet Solace (The Seattle Sound Series Book 1) Page 13
