by Mignon Mykel
“Sit down you two!” Avery said, moving back to the seat she’d been in previously. I pulled out the chair next to me for Asher to sit as well, not sure if she would take it or go to the other side and sit by my sister.
I didn’t remember it, I was only four I think, but Avery was nicknamed Ace because she was a freaking Ace on the rink. At five years old, she was surpassing the boys on the ice. She was probably the only female who was almost better than me at hockey.
Almost.
I sat down, not wanting to seem like I was waiting for her, while all along I was incredibly drawn and focused in on her. From the corner of my eye, I took her in as she studied the chair—it wasn’t going to bite her—and her upper lip pushed out as, I assumed, she played with the backside of her Monroe piercing.
She was such a visual contradiction.
Her face was….sweet—there wasn’t any other word to describe it, with its soft bowing of her upper lip, the gentle dip in her chin, or her soft cheekbones all set in a heart shape. But then she had her piercings and tattoos. She should have a bad-assed look to her, not this unsure one.
Even after she sat, she seemed unsure.
“We’re going to go to IKEA,” Avery announced and I could feel Asher stiffen next to me. Avery directed her look to Asher, “Trust me, you’re going to want new furniture in the guest house. Who the hell knows what has happened on some of those surfaces.” Now my sister looked at me, her brows up, “Did you know that Kenna stayed there for a while, and when Parker came to sweep her off her feet, they didn’t leave for a week?”
Ken was my twenty-three year old sister and Parker was her fiancé.
Parker also played for my dad in Beloit, which made his sleeping with McKenna a real big no-no but apparently he didn’t care. He had a six-year-old daughter, Ella, who probably had been welcomed into the family fold quicker than Parker himself.
“I don’t really want to know what Ken did in there for a week,” I answered.
“I can go to a hotel,” Asher spoke up. I hadn’t caught it when she introduced herself, but her voice had a raspy quality to it—like that woman who played Erin on Chicago P.D. The type of voice that girls got when they were sick.
I didn’t think Asher was sick.
And it was fucking sexy as all get out.
Again, I found myself considering this woman—girl?—next to me.
“You will not go to a hotel!” Avery said, picking up her mocha. “It’s semi my fault you’re stuck here.”
I frowned. “What do you mean by that?” I asked my sister.
“CJ rear-ended me over on 2nd street, and I pushed into Asher. All of our cars are ruined and Asher was headed…Where were you headed?”
Asher shrugged beside me, her chin dipped as she considered the table. “I didn’t have an end destination.”
I turned in my chair, a leg on either side of the corner, and leaned into the table. Frowning, I asked Asher, “How do you know Avery?” All of this wasn’t adding up.
“Porter, leave the girl be.”
Asher lifted her chin. “I don’t.” She shrugged. “Not really. We just met and I have nowhere to go.” She swallowed and I watched as her face hardened, her eyes darkened. “She offered me a place to stay and then your mother insisted I take it too. Any more questions?”
Again, my half-grin kicked on my face. Damn.
With a chuckle, I shook my head. “Nope. No more questions.” I turned back to the table and picked up my Frappuccino, sipping from the green straw. “You guys will need muscle at IKEA. I’ll come with.”
“You have a flight,” Avery said with a frown.
I waved off her concern and swirled the contents of my cup as I held it from the dome lid. “Rescheduled.” I shrugged. “For Sunday.”
I’d have to remember to do that.
And to get in touch with Nico, the teammate I was rooming with for the season. I was drafted first round to South Carolina Rockets, an NHL team on the opposite coast of where my brothers played. It had been my goal throughout high school to become drafted to anyone other than San Diego, and when it happened, I had been fucking excited.
Where San Diego literally was family—my dad played for them for years, I grew up knowing the coaches, and both my older brothers played for them—South Carolina had a family-like aspect to them. They liked to pair rookies with senior players for the first year, and I got placed with Dominico D’Amaco, a forward who hailed from his own family of hockey players.
I didn’t imagine we would chat about it over bon-bons, but maybe he’d have some pointers for me.
“Mom was going to pick us up in a little bit and I was going to borrow Dad’s truck. You can drive,” Avery said, her blue eyes unwavering and steady on mine.
Ace was challenging me.
She knew I wasn’t the biggest fan of Dad’s truck.
I had gotten into an accident in it when I was sixteen and while it wasn’t a bad accident by any means, it still wasn’t my favorite vehicle to drive. By all intents and purposes, I should be more fearful to drive my new baby, a Honda CBR 1000 bike, or even the little sport car I’d been driving since sixteen—had I been in it during the accident, the end result would have been far worse—but there were some major negative connotations associated with Dad’s truck and me in the driver’s seat.
“Fine, I’ll drive,” I caved. It was just a fucking truck.
Besides, as athletic as Avery was, these two could still use a man to help move some of the heavier furniture.
Just call me a gentleman.
“So we’ll need to find you a couch, a bed—”
“I can’t afford this,” Asher cut in. Her face was drawn in a frown.
“Psh. Don’t worry about it. My parents will cover it. The furniture needs to be replaced anyway.”
I took out my phone to cancel the Uber I was going to take to the airport, doing that while I talked to my sister and Asher. “You should probably talk about it to Mom and Dad first, before you go and spend their money.”
“Look, there’s Mom now,” Avery said and I looked to the door where our mother just walked in.
“I wanted to say goodbye before you left,” Mom said.
Before coming to meet Avery for coffee, I stopped at the house and said goodbye to Dad but Mom had been out. I was now aware that it was because of Avery’s accident.
I stood and she wrapped her arms around my stomach. I could rest my chin on her head these days—all us boys could. She cried the day I was no longer shorter than her. The memory made my chuckle.
“Don’t laugh, Porter Prescott!” Mom said, leaning back and hitting my stomach.
“I wasn’t laughing at you, Mom. Just thinking about something.”
“He’s not leaving today anymore. Rescheduled,” Avery cut in. Her fingers in air quotes, paired with the look she gave me, told me she didn’t believe my lie. Oh well, wasn’t her lie to believe in.
“Ace wants to spend your money,” I told Mom, lifting my brows and challenging Avery to keep opening her mouth.
“Porter—”
Mom laughed and stepped away from my side. “One would never guess that you two are nineteen and twenty-one. My goodness.” Mom smiled down at Asher, still sitting in her chair. I watched as Asher scrambled to stand, her knee catching the table. I winced for her, even though it didn’t seem to faze her.
“How are you doing, Asher?” Mom asked her.
“I’m good.” She nodded a few times. “Really, I can find a hotel. Please don’t put yourselves out for me. There’s no sense in spending money on furniture for a person you don’t know.”
“Nonsense. It all needs to be replaced anyway. I think it’s been about ten years since it was all last updated. Besides, I’m sure Avery wants to go to IKEA. We can afford an IKEA update. Were you guys ready to head to the house then?”
“Let’s do it,” Avery answered and I picked up what was left of my Frappuccino to toss
the cup. I headed the group of us toward the door, holding it open for Avery, my mom, and finally, Asher as she walked through.
Following behind her, I took her in. Her shirt sleeves were now down, covering up the swirl of colors on her arm but that was ok. At the moment I was fixated on her hair, the thick mass of wavy brown locks.
I rubbed my hand over my jaw.
I wanted to unwrap this girl. I wanted to figure her out, because something told me she had a hell of a story.
Just like when I first saw her walk into Starbucks, I found myself wishing I weren’t going so far away.
Purchase Altercation today
This part of the book is always the hardest. I’m always afraid I’m going to miss someone!
Thank you to every single reader who is just picking up my stories now. I love this Prescott family, and Porter’s story has been the driving force in getting me to write. Every time I’d stop writing, it was Porter who insisted on his story being told. I can only hope that when the duet releases, people love him as much as I do.
Asher’s prequel was hard to write. I knew that it was probably going to upset people, or that some readers wouldn’t be able to read it. I don’t consider myself someone who pushes boundaries, but I am someone who feels that a person’s full story needs to be told and that’s what I did by publishing Breakaway. It was hard to write, can be hard to read, but I feel it is so, so important in understanding Asher later in the duet. The hard reality of it is…things that happen to Asher, happen more than people realize.
I have a lot of family to thank this go-around! To Anna, for helping me out with foster care questions. Even though you’re studying in Wisconsin, and Asher is set in Tennessee, your guidance helped me find resources that would pertain to Tennessee cases, as well as your answering ‘simple’ questions for me in regards to the foster care system.
To my Marines: my father, Michael; my brother, Tyler; and my sister-in-law, Alexis. Thank you for answering the questions I had when it came to boot itself, but also the recruiting and enlisting process.
I changed up my team a bit this year. Jenn, my editor, you are a rockstar. Thank you for not letting me pull out my hair too much. Melissa, you have been a godsend. I love bouncing ideas off you. Cat, thank you, too, for your help on the social media front. And lastly, that last set of eyes, Lexi. Thank you for jumping on board and being okay with my currently hectic schedule. I promise it won’t always be like this!
To every single reader and blogger who has helped share posts and get word of this release out, THANK YOU! Authors wouldn’t be anywhere without the “front line” you all assemble on.
That’s it for now! I hope you were able to feel for Asher, and are looking forward to her finding her place in the world.
Mignon Mykel is the author of the Prescott Family series, as well as spin-offs, the sassy O’Gallagher Nights novellas and Loving Meadows series. When not sitting at Starbucks writing whatever her characters tell her to, you can find her hiking in the mountains of her new home in Arizona.
Connect with Mignon online:
website | facebook | twitter @mnonmklwrites | instagram @mignon.mykel
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