Wherever You Go

by Amanda Torrey

  Without thinking, she opened it. She immediately noticed that while her license and credit cards were in place, the cash was gone.

  “Something missing?” Asher scratched the back of his head and studied her, his face serious and concerned.

  “Oh, it’s no biggie. I thought I had some cash in there, but I’m probably mistaken. Thanks for finding it for me.”

  She didn’t know why she told the lie. She knew she had a fifty dollar bill in there, plus a couple of ones. But she couldn’t stand making him stress about the fact that someone in his family had stolen from her.

  Dark clouds passed over his face. His previously jovial, friendly smile turned to a foreboding frown, and she had the urge to run. She also had the urge to reach out and gather him in her embrace. Clearly these urges were conflicting and irrational.

  “Do you smell that?” he asked, catching her off-guard.

  She sniffed the air. Now that he mentioned it, the unmistakable odor of skunky marijuana drifted into the room.

  “Smells like pot.” She stated the obvious, then winced as he bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  Loud yelling came from upstairs. A slamming door. A scream.

  Paisley ran up the stairs, not thinking about what she might find, only knowing that she couldn’t abandon Asher with whatever situation was occurring.

  She followed the shouting. Asher was in the process of watching a teen boy fumble into his shoes as Izzy screamed at Asher for being such an “overprotective dickhead!”

  Paisley fanned away the smell of marijuana that filled the room.

  As soon as the boy had escaped past Asher, with a firm warning to never show his face again, Izzy moved to a small loveseat in her room, staring at the wall behind Asher as he ranted and raved. And then she burst out laughing.

  “You think this is funny?” he hollered.

  Paisley immediately felt compassion for the poor girl. She had been through so much. She needed warmth, not yelling. The yelling she expected. Compassion, she wouldn’t.

  “Ash, she’s stoned. Everything is funny.”

  He whipped around to face her, his nostrils flaring and his eyes bulging.

  “Do you think I don’t know that she’s stoned? Do you think I shouldn’t be outraged that my thirteen-year-old niece is smoking weed in my house? That she was alone with a boy in her room? Please, Paisley, why don’t you tell me how I should handle this?”

  Paisley knew she had overstepped once again. Seemed to be a problem she’d always have.

  “I didn’t mean to interfere.”

  She chanced a glance in Izzy’s direction, and her heart died. The young girl’s laughter had passed, leaving her curled up in a ball on the couch, hugging her knees to her chest, her hoodie covering her head and most of her face, as she tried valiantly to form a protective barrier between her and her raging uncle.

  Paisley’s apology had deflated a bit of the anger he directed toward her, but she knew he needed intervention.

  “Want to go outside to chat for a few?” she asked, steeling herself for his reaction.

  She watched as he waged a battle with himself. He had calmed enough that she hoped he saw the ball of vulnerability on the loveseat.

  He nodded, started to say something to Izzy, and stopped himself. He stormed past her and she followed in his wake.

  As soon as Paisley closed the door, Asher released a pent up breath and started ranting as he paced along his small front porch.

  “She wasn’t alone, Pais. She was with an older boy. Another older boy—different from the one at the beach. Jesus, Paisley. She is high. Stoned. Under the influence. Don’t you think she’d have learned from her parent’s mistakes?”

  “That’s not usually how it works.”

  “Well it should!”

  She nodded, sympathetic to his feelings. She remembered going through similar things with Harmony when Harmony was a young teen.

  Paisley put a hand on Asher’s arm. He paused, but didn’t look at her. “Just try to remember how hard it was being thirteen…”

  “She’s getting high and hanging out with older boys!” His muscle tightened against her palm.

  “Not awesome, but maybe she’s crying out for help. Could’ve been worse.”

  “Yeah, she could have died of a heroin overdose like her mother. Or she could have trouble with the law like her father. Or she could completely fuck up her life and wind up in jail, on the streets, or dead. Yeah, I think I’ll keep her locked up here if that’s what it takes to prevent any of those outcomes.”

  Paisley didn’t have any advice for him. She had no clue how to handle a teenager.

  His hands rolled into fists as he struggled for control.

  “I don’t know how to help her.”

  He had aged ten years in the last twenty minutes, and seeing him on the verge of losing it was painful. More painful than any of the other crap she’d been dealing with lately.

  She sat on the step and tapped the spot beside her, inviting him to join her. He hesitated for a moment before lowering himself to the stoop next to her.

  All she could hear was the gentle clatter of tree branches rubbing together in the slight breeze, punctuated by the startling zap of the electrical bug zapper on the porch behind them. All she could feel was the spark of his energy jumping from his body to hers, electrifying her in a way that made her feel alive. Fully and truly and actively alive. His shoulder barely touched hers, but she felt closer to him at that moment than she ever had with another human.

  Struggling to think of something to say, she was pleased when he began to talk.

  “You probably think we’re all fucked up.”

  “No,” she answered, wishing she could let him climb in her head and see how she admired him for taking on so much. For his family. Just like she would.

  “My brother wasn’t always like that—the way you saw him the other day.”

  She waited to see if he’d continue to speak. She honored him with silence—something she had never been very good at gifting to anyone else.

  “He started using when he was only a little older than Izzy, several years after our mother died.”

  “How did your mother die?”

  “Cancer.”

  She sucked in a breath. “Mine, too.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, looking at her for the first time since sitting with her.

  He placed a hand over hers, and she resisted the urge to melt into his side. She struggled for words.

  “You must have been young when you lost your mom.”

  “Yeah. Tenth grade. It was tough watching my dad lose it, my brother barely coping, and trying my best to help out like I promised my mom I would. I didn’t know why she made me promise that—they didn’t tell me she was dying. But I knew. I could see it. And I was so damned pissed that they didn’t tell me the truth so I could do a better job of preparing.”

  “Is that why you dropped out? Too much sadness?”

  “Sort of. My dad sunk into a deep depression and couldn’t show up to work every day. He had built this business in town and people were doing their best to stay loyal, but when he became unreliable, it left them no choice but to seek services elsewhere. I knew if we didn’t get things back on track, we’d lose everything, and I didn’t want my brother to wind up homeless. So I quit school and took over the business. Dad eventually got better, so he came back to work as soon as he could. I had blown my chance to do anything else, so I took what I had learned and started my own shop.”

  “Did he get mad?”

  “No,” Asher laughed low. “He gave his blessing. We had too much business for him to manage on his own, and he couldn’t stand taking orders from me, so he was more than happy to have me open a second garage.”

  “Sounds like you were really close with your dad.”

  “Yeah, I was. Sometimes I wonder if we left Ricky out of too much. I mean, I did everything for him, but my dad and I were the grown-ups. And Ricky was a ki
d without a mom who was drowning. We didn’t see it. I should have seen it.”

  Paisley placed her other hand over the hand covering hers.

  “You were a kid yourself, Asher.”

  “That’s not an excuse. Ricky’s life was shit after our mother died. He got a girl pregnant when he was only fifteen, and he was already heavily into smoking pot and popping pills. And then his girlfriend—Izzy’s mother—died of an overdose. He’s gone downhill since.”

  “When did that happen?”

  “Five years ago.”

  “So Izzy was only 8 when she lost her mom? How awful.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I lost my mom a little over a year ago, and I don’t usually feel okay. I can’t imagine not having her as I was growing up.”

  “I’m trying to understand what she’s going through.” He paused. “I fucked up in there, didn’t I?”

  She smiled. “I’m the wrong person to ask. I know nothing.”

  “I fucked up.”

  “Asher, you showed that you care about the decisions she makes. You showed her that you have rules and boundaries. You showed her that you’re willing to protect her. I don’t think you did a bad thing at all.”

  He turned his head toward her, and his eyes caught the light of the rising moon. From this close, she had the perfect view of his hard jawline, of the subtle scruff covering his jaw, and of the tiny scar on his cheek.

  She’d have to ask him about that scar, but for now…

  He leaned forward, his lips hovering over hers.

  “I’m going to kiss you,” he promised, and her lips parted to argue, but opted to invite, instead.

  “Now is your last opportunity to stop me.” His husky voice sent jolts of desire to her belly, and she knew if she tried to stand at that moment, she’d fall flat on her face.

  Only something told her that he’d catch her if she fell.

  And that she’d never want him to let her go.

  “Do you hear me arguing?” she muttered, sucking in her bottom lip as she waited with anticipation of what he was about to deliver.

  His lips met hers in a promise of something more than anything they had shared before.

  Last time was all about two strangers finding a release.

  This was about letting each other in. About touching soul-to-soul. About revealing more than what was beneath their clothing.

  Lost in the pleasure of his lips and tongue exploring hers, she almost didn’t hear the door open.

  “Eww, you guys!”

  Isabel’s voice startled them both, and when they jumped apart, Paisley hit her head on the side rail of the steps.

  She rubbed her head as she watched Asher’s attention go to his niece.

  “What are you doing out of your room?”

  “I’m hungry. And I want to know how long I’m grounded for.”

  To his credit, Asher took the time to take a deep breath before responding.

  “Was that your first time smoking pot?”

  Izzy nodded.

  “Is it going to be your last?”

  She shrugged. Paisley bit her tongue.

  “Is it going to be your last?” Asher offered Izzy the opportunity to give him the correct answer, his tone even but firm.

  “Whatever, Ash. Sure, fine. It’ll be my last. I’ll die an innocent kid who never did anything fun. Do we have any chips?”

  “Go sit on the couch. I’ll be in in a minute.”

  As Izzy huffed and puffed and slammed the door, Paisley tested the load-bearing potential of her legs. They worked.

  “Sorry ‘bout that,” Asher said, reaching for her hips and turning her to face him.

  She didn’t swat him away. She couldn’t. Her body acted on its own—giving him her full attention and as much frontal contact as he wanted.

  “You’ve got to take care of her. She’s your first priority.”

  He blinked slowly, lowering his head in an expression that made him look so vulnerable she had to fight the urge to offer to take care of the situation for him.

  But they weren’t partners in this or in anything else. And she had to let him find his own way.

  “Now that I’ve poured my soul out to you, can I get that date?”

  She laughed, not expecting those words.

  “I guess you owe me one now.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Call me.”

  She felt him watch her as she walked to her car. Before she got in, she had an idea she wanted to run by him.

  “Why don’t you have Izzy come work for me at the ice cream shop? I could use an extra hand.”

  His face turned pensive for a moment before he smiled and nodded. “I’ll do that,” he promised.

  Paisley smiled as she drove away. She wanted to give Izzy something to do to keep her out of trouble, but she couldn’t help thinking that having Izzy help her out would mean getting to see Asher from time to time, too.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Paisley was thrilled with the out-of-the-gate success of the ice cream stand. The Healing Springs Herald had featured her on the front page, and Reed had been handing out coupons to all of her guests. Izzy proved to be eager to please, and she was even starting to interact socially with some of the other teens Paisley had hired to work after school and on weekends.

  During a particularly harrowing second weekend, when one of the teens had called out to go to a party, Asher stopped by when she was elbow deep in serving cotton candy ice cream to a baseball team celebrating a win.

  A line formed at the other window, and the one teen who bothered to show up struggled to get the orders right.

  Asher didn’t waste any time. He let himself in, set the bouquet of flowers he had brought on the counter—out of the way of their work space, washed his hands, slipped into gloves, and began helping at the other window. Paisley used her wrist to brush her sloppy hair out of her face, thankful beyond comprehension that he had the take-charge manner that he did.

  When things settled a bit, he cleaned up the ice cream slickened workspace and greeted her properly.

  “Thanks for pitching in. I thought we’d drown in ice cream.”

  “There are worse ways to go, I’d think,” he teased. “Why isn’t Izzy here?”

  Paisley shrugged, checking off ice cream flavors that she needed to reorder. “She didn’t mention coming today. I assumed she had plans.”

  “Izzy doesn’t make plans. She sits at home and mopes.”

  “Well maybe she’s turning a new leaf. She has seemed a little more cheerful lately.”

  Asher’s lips twisted as he bit the inside of his lip before saying, “Let’s hope.”

  As if to pop his hopeful bubble, Asher’s face turned to stone as the door to the ice cream shack opened and a modified version of Izzy entered.

  “What the hell have you done to yourself?” Asher’s roar startled the other teen as she washed ice cream scoops in the sink. “What did you do to your hair?”

  Izzy smiled, but Paisley could see through her bravado to the insecurity she tried to bury under the guise of confidence.

  “I dyed it.”

  “I can see that. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

  “Then why’d you ask?”

  Paisley bit back her smile. She would have given Izzy a point for that remark.

  “Are you going out for a job as town clown? Go wash your face. You look ridiculous with all that make-up on.”

  Paisley’s heart broke for Izzy as she began to shrink under the criticism of her uncle.

  “I like it,” Paisley said, knowing she risked Asher’s wrath, but thinking Izzy needed an ally. “Very goth.”

  Izzy smiled slightly and thanked her. Asher stewed, his hands fisting and steam erupting from the top of his head.

  “It’s ridiculous. She’s thirteen. She should be playing with dolls, not wearing make-up and dying her hair.”

  Izzy’s face turned a deep crimson as customers gathered at the window and the other employee pretended tha
t she wasn’t listening.

  “I hate you, Asher. I really, really hate you.”

  “You’re going home. You’re not leaving until your hair returns to its natural color.”

  Paisley couldn’t stand by while he dug himself into a hole he’d regret later.

  “Oh, Ash. You’re overreacting.” She turned to Izzy. “He just loves you too much to want you to grow up.”

  Izzy rolled her darkened, make-up shadowed eyes while Asher ignored Paisley’s words.

  “Go over to the sink and wash your face.”

  “No.” Izzy crossed her arms over her chest.

  The lines were drawn. Soon they’d be reaching for their proverbial guns.

  “Izzy, would you take the trash out, please? There’s a bag tied up over there. Kim, would you serve these customers, please? Looks like they’re ready to order.” She waited a moment while the girls obeyed her requests, then pulled a tight-muscled Asher over to the side. “Asher, I know you’re upset, but it’s just her way of expressing herself.”

  “Stop trying to help!”

  “Stop bullying her!” Paisley wasn’t going to pull any punches. Not only did she care about Izzy and her feelings, but she cared about Asher. She didn’t want him to do or say anything he’d regret. She knew how much his relationship with Izzy meant to him, and how much he’d beat himself up later. “The more you put your foot down, the more rebellious she’ll become.”

  Asher refused to make eye contact with her before he stormed out of the ice cream shack.

  Paisley shook her head, smoothed her hands over her belly, and smiled at the concerned looking Kim.

  “Men,” she muttered, smiling in an effort to relax Kim.

  Kim smiled back and then resumed scooping the ice cream.

  Paisley appreciated the chaotic afternoon. Busy work helped keep her mind off the troubles with Asher, concern about Izzy, and the meeting she dreaded tomorrow.

  As if life hadn’t tried to screw her upside down and backwards already, Paisley had been given a hint that the bad news she had anticipated but hoped she wouldn’t have to ever deal with was going to be dealt to her.

  When her doctor’s office had called on a Saturday, she had known it wasn’t good news. Otherwise, they would have waited for her next appointment. Or they would have mailed the results. They wouldn’t have asked her to move her appointment up to Monday morning.