by M.A. Stacie
“He’s doing okay. Considering.” She shrugged and sat down on the edge of the couch. “Social services have contacted his family. He lives with his father and brother. They don’t think it’s a safe environment for him, but no one is accepting responsibility for what happened. His father said he hangs with the wrong crowd. I want him to come back to the shelter when he gets discharged. He keeps dodging the question. Funny how I keep facing that wall of silence from the males in my life.”
“I’m sure he has his reasons.”
Emma ground her teeth, frustration tensing her muscles. During the night she’d thought through the things she knew about Asher, along with replaying the interactions they’d had as children. She saw so many similarities between Gabe and Asher, and she found it hard to understand why they both protected the person who’d hurt them. Even years after, Asher was still closed so tight, making it hard for anyone to really get close to him. She hadn’t been there to help him when he needed her, and she’d already resolved to be there now as well as helping Gabe when he needed it most. They could probably aid one another. If they allowed it.
“I’m sure he does. But remaining in a place that is risking your life isn’t a good choice. Especially when he has better options.”
Asher shook his head as he walked over to her and handed her a mug of coffee. He waited until he sat across from her before he spoke. “You don’t know who did that to him. Maybe his father’s right. Even if he isn’t, the issue is Gabe’s. To you the shelter is the better option. To him it could actually be worse.”
“Ash—”
“Emma, no. Just listen. I don’t want to argue with you. I don’t want to have to apologise again. I want you to trust me when I tell you that Gabe is doing his best in this situation. You think that’s bullshit. I assure you it isn’t. He’s probably spent most of his life calculating his next steps—working out what he has to do to make it through the day. I bet one of those decisions is saving his world from being turned upside down.”
“Are you serious?” She scowled at him, her temper flaring. “Are you saying that he won’t leave whoever is abusing him because it will inconvenience him? That’s a ridiculous argument!”
“You don’t get to say whether it’s ridiculous. Whatever is happening to Gabe hasn’t ever happened to you, so your view on this is warped. Besides, maybe he wants to go home because his family isn’t the problem.”
Anger burned in her blood stream. She banged the mug onto the coffee table, not caring that the liquid sloshed out onto the battered wood. “And because you’ve been through similar things then your view isn’t jaded? I would argue the exact opposite.”
Asher sneered, his top lip curling. Emma hated the way his expression changed. It didn’t suit him.
“We are not talking about me.”
“Why not? You, more than anyone, can help Gabe right now. You can show him that he won’t be hurting forever—that he has a really great future in front of him. You can tell him what Ike did for you, because that’s what the shelter is trying to do for him. We’ll do anything not to have to sit by and watch him go back to whoever abuses him. You can help, Ash.”
Asher stood abruptly, his hand clenched at his sides. “Emma, this is your crusade. Not mine.”
“It’s not a crusade,” she responded, completely offended by his comment. “It’s what I do. I help people.”
His dark, brown eyes bore into her and he tilted his head a little to the side. “Are you helping me, Em? Am I part of your plan?”
Her guts lurched. She wouldn’t allow him to think he was a project. She really did start out with the best of intentions, and those were to help Gabe, maybe healing Asher a bit in the process.
Emma went to him, reaching up to cup his cheeks with both of her hands. Asher pulled away at first, rearing his head back and evading her touch. She persisted, keeping her hands high and her fingertips near his stubbled jaw. “Asher, stop! Please, stop.” She softened her tone, relaxed her hands. “Just listen to me. This is about Gabe, and what’s happening to him. Please listen.”
Asher stilled but didn’t meet her gaze.
“I thought—still think, that you can help him. You’re not a project, nor am I making you get involved. I’m sorry if you think that.”
Upset that the entire conversation had gone so wrong, she started to walk away. Asher grabbed her hand, stopping her retreat. She remained facing the door with their fingers interlocked. Her heart crashed against her chest, her breaths speeding up.
“I…I can’t talk about before,” he said in nothing more than a whisper. “It’s too much. I’ve never spoken about it. I wouldn’t be helping the kid.”
“You would. When he sees where you came from.” She turned to face him, their hands still joined.
“Don’t. You have no idea. This isn’t something you can drag up and expect me to be okay about. It’s been so good seeing you again, but you know I have boundaries.”
“And I can’t cross them, even to help Gabe?”
Asher shook his head in confirmation. Her chest tightened. He wasn’t being selfish. Asher really had trouble talking about his childhood, and that made her heart clench painfully. Growing up was far worse for him than she had suspected.
“Oh, God, I’m so—”
“Shhh. Please just be quiet. Stop talking, Emma.”
She opened her mouth, ready to ask why, but all that left her lips was a gust of air as her back hit the door. The push wasn’t harsh, just unexpected, and when his mouth crushed to hers the rest of the oxygen was sapped from her lungs.
He was kissing her.
It was slow, gentle, and totally bone-melting.
His fingers tightened around hers as he grasped her other hand and brought them to rest between their bodies. His lips continued their caress; his tongue stroking her bottom lip. Emma clung to his hands. Each touch of his lips causing her head to spin. Her balance was shot and her knees were about to give out. Never before had she experienced a kiss so intoxicating.
“Emma,” he whispered against her lips.
“Hmm?” Her head seemed unable to form a sentence at that moment.
“Your bag is ringing.”
He took a step backward, dropping her hands. Instantly bereft, Emma blew out an unsteady breath and stared at her bag. She didn’t trust herself to move unsupported. “Asher? What was—?”
He shook his head again, his lips still swollen from their kiss. “Answer your phone, Em.”
“But I—”
“Answer your phone. I’ll go and um…make more coffee.”
Watching him walk to the kitchenette, Emma sighed. There was nothing wrong with the coffee he’d made fifteen minutes ago.
Chapter 11
Asher
Over the next two days Asher did everything he could to forget that damn kiss. He couldn’t. When he closed his eyes he felt her lips against his, and he got hard just recalling the way her hips pressed against his. No amount of cold showers sluiced the arousal from his skin. The simple fact was he wanted Emma in the worst possible way.
He’d never been more thankful of a ringing phone, and shortly after she’d answered it she’d grabbed her bag and fled. He told himself she’d been just as stunned by what had happened—that she wanted the distance between them too. In reality he had no idea because he hadn’t spoken to her.
Asher had tried, picking his phone up more than once. He never got as far as dialling. The more he debated it, the less sure he was of what he was going to say. Should he apologise for the kiss? And would it be ridiculous if he took Emma flowers again? If he continued to mess up the way he was doing, it was going to cost him a fortune. Not that he was sure he’d fucked up this time.
Emma didn’t grasp how difficult it was for him to revisit his childhood memories. Let alone sit and talk to someone about them who was going through something very similar. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to help Gabe, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t strong enough to face his turmoi
l head on. It would break him. Of that he was certain. So when guilt got too much, and anxiety overtook him, Asher tied on his trainers and ran. In the last couple of days he’d clocked up some serious mileage. It was only when he’d worn himself out, when his chest was heaving and his legs were quaking, that he relaxed. Stopped questioning his actions, stopped doubting what he was capable of and accepted who he was.
He was a loner who owned a bookshop.
“Are you planning on killing both of us with the pace you’re doing?” Ben asked, struggling to keep up next to him.
Asher ignored him, pumping his legs and arms that bit faster. He’d warned Ben that he wasn’t the chatty type when he ran, but Ben had tagged along anyway. It was his fault. The bloke was fit enough to keep up; he just wanted Asher to know he wasn’t pleased about it.
“Drop back,” Asher panted, keeping his gaze firmly ahead. “I’ll meet you back at the shop when I’m done.”
“And leave you alone to kill yourself with cardio? Not a chance, mate. Anyway, you can only go so far. You have to open the shop soon.”
Cursing, Asher checked the time on his sports watch. Of course, Ben was right. They had time to run for maybe three more miles. His escape was nearing its end.
“Fancy running back along the canal?”
Asher nodded, shifting around the corner before he understood why Ben had suggested it. The path along the canal was uneven and with no fence to stop them falling in. They would have to slow down. Asher grumbled.
“You need to calm it. Just ease off a bit, Ash.”
Sweat began to drip from his forehead, his T-shirt already clinging to his torso. His sports watch beeped, alerting him to his increase in distance as Ben swerved in front of him. He began to ease their pace, and as there wasn’t enough room to get around him, Asher had no choice but to slow. Now that he was fixating on his speed, he was growing aware of his heavy breathing and the ache in his legs. A glance at his watch confirmed just how much he’d been pushing it. His head had been anywhere but on the run.
“What’s with the crazy?” Ben panted out.
Asher blew out a ragged breath, giving in and slowing into a walk. “Head’s a bit swirly. Needed to clear it.”
“Swirly? What kind of description is that?”
“The kind of description where I don’t want to expand. You should have just let me carry on. I’d have worked through it in the end.”
Ben’s lip curled, and he shoved his sweaty brown curls away from his forehead. “You wouldn’t. You’d have ended up exhausted at the side of the road. I stayed with you to make sure you didn’t run yourself into the ground.” He patted Asher on the shoulder. “You can talk to me. I’ve been your friend for a while now. You know me well enough to be able to trust me.”
“I don’t do sharing.”
Ben laughed. “And don’t I know it? Come on, Ash, just give a little.”
Asher stopped. Still buzzing from the rush of adrenaline, he battled to think clearly. After years of having no one except Ike, it now appeared that everyone wanted to be his friend. His question was whether he had the ability to be one. Could he put that kind of trust in another person knowing they could hurt him at any moment? Trust wasn’t something he had an excess off, but he was well aware he had to give a little.
“The woman,” Asher said while starting to walk again. “The one from my past. She’s messing with my head. Being around her makes me…think.”
“Send her packing. You don’t need that shit. You’ve done fine without anyone from your childhood sticking themselves in.”
Asher huffed and rounded the corner to the bookshop. “It’s not like that. I…”
His friend squinted and a moment later he started to laugh. “I get it! When you say she messes with your head, you mean mess with your head, don’t you? You seeing love hearts and shit? Hilarious.”
“Don’t, Ben. It isn’t funny.” Asher could feel his skin heating.
“You’re right, it isn’t funny. It’s bloody hilarious. Come on, it happens to the best of us. This woman has just got your knickers in a knot. Have some fun with her and work her out of your system. You’ll feel better then. And after you’ve been balls deep I bet you’ll think a lot clearer.”
Asher scrubbed his face with the palms of his hands before pushing his fingers into his hair. “Sex is the answer, huh?”
Ben grinned. “Sure is. Whatever the question, sex is the answer.”
“You’re ridiculous,” he replied, unable to stop a chuckle rumbling free. He hadn’t disclosed much, but he had to admit he was already feeling better.
Squatting down, he opened the small pouch on his running shoe, retrieving the key to open the bookshop. Neither of them said anything further until they got into his flat. Ben collapsed onto the couch, toeing his trainers off and resting his feet on the beat up table. “I need some water, mate. ASAP. You killed me on that run. I don’t mind admitting it.”
“You’re alive enough to be bitching. Suck it up, and get your own water. You know where the tap is.”
Ben wrinkled his nose. “Lukewarm tap water? Is that all you have to offer? And there I was thinking that I was on for a serious date.”
Snorting, Asher tossed a towel at his friend, hitting him right in the face. “I’m not your maid. I ran as far as you and I’m still vertical.”
The buzzing of the doorbell interrupted their banter. Asher scowled. The only person who called uninvited was lounging on his couch. He didn’t know anyone well enough for them to care.
“Are you going to answer that?”
He actually debated it for a minute, sensing no good was going to come of opening the door. Another buzz crackled through the small speaker. Ben started to stand up, whining about the pain in his thighs and arse.
“Sit back down, Daisy. Don’t go stressing yourself out.”
Ben sneered, flopping back down as Asher headed for the stairs down to the bookshop. The moment he walked around the counter he saw her, or rather her outline in the frosted glass. He paused, calculating what he was going to do. How did he talk to her after the kiss they’d shared and the speed with which he’d dismissed it?
The last thing he wanted was for her to think the kiss had meant nothing. That couldn’t be further from the truth. It had turned his world upside down, but now he was floundering. Putting his faith in one person never worked out well for him. In fact it usually led to him being the one clutching a lacerated heart.
The doorbell rang again.
“Coming!” he shouted. Her impatience rubbed him the wrong way. Already anxious by her appearance, her restlessness only added to it. To calm himself he took a deep breath before unlocking the door.
Emma offered him a small smile, and her gaze darted around his face. Her cheeks flushed pink, matching the light gloss on her lips. She clutched a bouquet of purple tulips.
“Hey,” she said, leaning against the side of the door frame.
“Hi.”
Asher fidgeted, feeling awkward and very much out of his depth. Emma’s smile widened, and she held out the bouquet to him. “I brought these as an apology.”
He arched a brow. “Apology?”
“I pushed. Too hard. I should have backed away. I’m sorry.”
Asher took the flowers from her, stunned at the act of kindness. “So you brought me flowers?”
Emma shrugged. “I know buying a man flowers isn’t really a thing, but I thought it was our thing.”
“We have a thing?” He sounded ridiculous, but he couldn’t form anything other than short, clipped sentences that were right to the point. He cleared his throat and stepped aside so that Emma could enter the shop.
“Been for a run?”
Asher raised his brows and opened his arms wide. “What makes you think that?”
“I saw you,” she replied, giving him a totally different answer than expected. “With your friend. You’re fast.”
“Just blowing off some steam.”
Emma loo
ked up at the nearest bookshelf. She raised her hand and began touching the spine of each book. “Because of me?”
Asher placed the tulips on the counter. Looking at her was hard. Being so close to her was even worse. His palms itched to be able to touch her, his lips pursed so tight to stop from kissing her. Every muscle in his body tightened as he stood rigid, willing himself to stay on the stop.
“Was it because of me?” she repeated.
“Some of it,” he said through gritted teeth, his hands clenching. “Not all of it.”
“I won’t push you again, Asher. I really shouldn’t have done.”
Softening, he shifted to stand behind her. Her sweet scent tickled his nostrils, and at the same time calmed his frayed nerves. Having her even closer made it harder for him to tell himself to stay away, and without over thinking the situation he stroked her hair away from one side of her neck. Calmed by her even more, he lowered his hands to her hips and rested his chin on her shoulder.
Right then there wasn’t a place in the world he’d rather be.
“Can we stop apologising to each other?” he whispered against her cheek. “I’m sure the florist appreciates the rise in sales but I hate it.”
Emma relaxed against him, even tilting her head further to the side to give him more room. Shit, this was not good. This wasn’t what he planned or what he should be doing. And yet he was, and it felt pretty great. He was nothing but bad for her. She was light, happy and addictive. All he could do was dim that light, or stifle her laughter with his moods and blackness. Nevertheless, keeping his distance was proving impossible.
“How about I stop asking so much from you, and you open up a little more? Meeting in the middle? Friends do that.”
“Hmm,” he crooned, distracting himself by nuzzling the crook of her neck. He kissed the soft, fragrant skin there, liking her quick intake of breath.
What was he doing? What the fuck did he think he was doing?
“And yet this feels like more than friends.”
Stilling, he pulled his head back a bit. “I should stop. This is crazy.”
