by M.A. Stacie
Emma twisted around, his hands remaining on her hips. She leaned back against the bookshelf and smiled at him. “Crazy people don’t know they’re crazy. We know what we’re doing.”
“But we shouldn’t be.”
“Why is that exactly? Do you have a wife I don’t know about? A girlfriend? Boyfriend?”
Amused by her question, he smirked. “No. No wife, girlfriend, and definitely no boyfriend. So stop questioning.”
“Asher, I can’t stop the questions. We get along so well, and maybe you don’t believe in fate but something brought us back together. If you want us to be just friends I can do that. I will do that, but I don’t want to. I like you.”
He pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes for a second. “You’ve said that.”
“Yeah, well I’m saying it again. Maybe you’ll hear it if I repeat it.”
“I hear you,” he admitted, lifting his head to meet her bright, blue eyes. “I don’t know what there is to like, or what we’re playing at though.”
He hated the self-pity lacing his tone. He wasn’t a good bet for her. She hadn’t seen him in years; even before then they weren’t even friends, yet now she wanted more. If he stopped denying it to himself, he wanted that too. Asher was lost as to where they should start. His relationship experience was minimal. He hadn’t wanted to share that much of himself with anyone.
Emma was already different.
“How about we just enjoy whatever is going on? We’re both busy people, Ash. It’s not like we’ll be spending every waking moment together. Let’s wing it.”
“I don’t know how to do that,” he replied.
Placing her palm flat against his cheek, she kissed his forehead. “One step at a time. That’s how we do this. The big question is: do you want to? Do you want to see what we could be, Asher?”
“I could hurt you.” His throat closed at his admission. The possibility scared him shitless.
“No, you won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Emma kissed his forehead again. “I feel it. Besides, if you hurt me you’ll have to answer to Bolt, and I doubt you want that.”
Asher shuddered, recalling the large bloke who had greeted him at the shelter. He certainly did not want to face him again.
“So are we going to try…just to see…?”
Asher smiled before hugging her tight. She felt so good in his arms. She felt right. The hovering cloud of fear wouldn’t disperse though. It left him anxious about any decision he’d made. Every cell within him screamed that he was being selfish because he couldn’t be anyone’s knight. However, when he looked at her the voice grew quieter, allowing him to be as greedy as he wanted.
Letting her go, he stood straight and held out a hand to her. “Come on up, I’ll introduce you to Ben.”
“And how will you introduce me?”
Cornered, he exhaled and hoped his response was good enough. “My new friend, Emma.”
“Then, yes, I’ll follow you. Oh and, Asher?” She winked. “Don’t forget the flowers.”
Chapter 12
Emma
“So, I had a thought.”
“Good morning to you too, Asher,” Emma said, balancing her office phone between her shoulder and cheek. Her heart gave an extra beat at the sound of his voice.
“Sorry, yeah, morning, Em.”
He sounded so husky, as though he’d barely rolled out of bed. That image had her temperature rising. They were taking this thing between them a day at a time, but she was human and he was damn distracting.
“So, sunshine, what was your thought? And why did you think I had to know about it?”
“I was thinking dinner? Or lunch?”
Liking his nervousness a little too much, Emma chose to tease him. “It’s barely past breakfast, but I’ll humour you. Did you need ideas for what to cook? You know you live right above a bookshop. You have shelves of inspiration under your feet.”
Her heart flipped at the sound of his light chuckle. She stared at the screen in front of her and began keying in the information to update the profile. Emma wanted Asher to hear the keystrokes. She wanted to seem nonchalant to his call. She wasn’t.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Emma paused, updating more information before she responded. “And what did you mean?”
“You’re making me come right out and say it? Really?”
“That’s what I’m hoping for,” she said, smiling. Bolt appeared in the doorway to her office, raising his brows. He no doubt wondered why she was grinning like a fool at nothing but a phone call. She rarely took personal calls in work, but when she’d seen Asher’s name pop up on her mobile, she couldn’t bring herself to decline it.
Wafting her hand in the air, she gestured for him to go away, which would only make his curiosity worse.
“I’m saying we should have dinner.”
“Or lunch.”
He chuckled again. “Yeah, I mentioned lunch, too. What are your thoughts on that, Em?”
“Hmm, let me think.” She could hear his stuttered breaths, again liking that he wasn’t completely sure of himself. His apprehension over the situation appealed to her. He felt real. True.
“Are you busy? Oh shit, I shouldn’t have called you while you were working. I’m sorry. I just had a quiet moment in the shop and I thought—”
“Stop,” she said, desperate to stop his anxious ramble. “I’m teasing, Ash. The call is fine. I wouldn’t have answered if I’d been dealing with something. You’ve been busy today then?”
Asher began to tell her about the many teenagers he’d had in his bookshop, all hunting for the same series of books. There were a few of the books on the shelves, though the rest he’d had to hunt for in storage. “Which proved really difficult when I was trying to deal with other customers too. I need someone to help me. It’s stressing me out, but everyone I interview is shit.”
“You’ll find someone. You just need the right fit. So anyway…back to you asking me a question. What was it again?” Emma leaned back in her chair and waited. Asher exhaled, leaving her to wonder if she’d pushed too hard. There was a heartbeat, maybe two, of silence before he spoke. “Emma, would you like to have dinner with me?”
“Yes, yes I would,” she answered without thinking.
Asher stuttered. “That’s, um…well, that’s, yeah, great.”
Emma giggled. “It is. When and where?”
“I hadn’t, um, thought t-that far. Okay…”
“Are you doing anything tonight? I’m working at my father’s office this afternoon. You could meet me there. If you wanted, that is.”
Bolt stuck his head around the door again. This time he spoke. “Em, Gabe’s in the kitchen.”
Surprise hit her square in the chest, momentarily pausing her excitement. The kid had been discharged and hadn’t been seen for a few days. This was the first day he’d returned to the shelter. The first time she could talk to him about his options.
“Ash, I have to go. I’ll text you the address. Are you good to pick me up?”
“Yes, yeah. Is eight okay?”
Agreeing, Emma pushed her chair away from the desk and stood up. “I’ll be waiting.”
The smile in his tone was evident as he said good-bye. She was grinning too, until she walked out of her office and thought about Gabe. He had her sobering quickly.
The rumble of Bolt’s voice flowed along the corridor, guiding her to the kitchen. The view that greeted her was somewhat unexpected. Emma assumed the men would be talking. Not preparing lunch. They had a great system working between them with Gabe laying out and buttering the slices of bread, while Bolt slapped cheese and salad on top. Gabe finished the process by placing another buttered slice over each sandwich. Every few movements, Bolt would spin around to stir the pan of soup, pivoting back just as quickly.
“You two work well together,” Emma interrupted. She leaned her shoulder against the door frame and crossed her arms over he
r chest.
Gabe froze before turning around and offering her a nod of his head. Emma winced, the cuts and bruises on his face appearing even harsher in daylight. They’d healed some, but still looked raw and sore. Her instinct was to wrap him in her arms and drag him home with her. He could use some affection.
“Gabe was hungry. I told him he had to help make it if he wanted to eat,” Bolt explained as he patted Gabe on the shoulder.
The kid shrugged, stepping to the side so that he shifted from Bolt’s touch. Emma left it unacknowledged and walked to the large pan of soup. “What are we having?”
“Cheese salad on granary and vegetable broth,” Gabe answered.
“Oh, yum. Did you help with the soup too?”
Shaking his head, he looked to the floor and shifted awkwardly on his feet. The action was far too much like that of Asher’s. The entire situation was too much like his, and it left her feeling a huge wave of sadness. Right now she could help them both, and she intended too.
“How are you healing, Gabe?”
The boy’s lip curled as he gave his shoulders a nonchalant shrug. “S’ok. Doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“It shouldn’t be hurting at all, because none of this should have happened. Are you making sure to keep the wounds clean?”
Turning his attention back to the sandwiches, he mumbled that the nurse had changed his dressings earlier. The urge to comfort him grew. He was so lost and forlorn. He needed someone to care about him. Someone to guide him.
“How are things…at home?”
She caught his flinch, leaving her clenching a fist to stop from touching him. Comfort came natural to her. A touch; a hug, even a kiss on the cheek. Gabe wouldn’t welcome any of those, so she kept her distance.
“Your social worker has been in touch. She tells me you’ll be staying here while they deal with what happened at…home. We’ll help you sort things out. You’ll be comfortable here.”
“Slow down,” he said raising his hands in the air. He didn’t turn around. “Social worker dragged me here this morning. She tried calling the house but no one was home. She brought me here after she took me to the nurse to get my dressings changed.”
“That’s good.”
“Don’t see how. Don’t want to be here. She wouldn’t even let me grab some stuff from home.”
“Would you rather be there? Where you get hurt?”
“I’m on my own most of the time.”
Emma wanted to weep at the sadness in his voice. He pretended it didn’t matter, but he couldn’t hide the truth from his tone. Nobody would want to stay in a place where the threat of harm lingered in the air. She refused to believe that the shelter was a worse option for him. She would do what she could to make him see that everyone at the shelter, along with his social worker, were all there to help him. None of them wanted to see him covered in his own blood again.
Recalling the scene that had greeted her that day, Emma closed her eyes, desperate to block the wave of sickness that washed over her. The memory was so clear she could almost smell the metallic tang. She could feel the blood as it slipped over her fingers and dried tight on her skin. It was an image that was tough to beat down.
“Your family should be there all of the time to look after you. Not some of the time to hurt you.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he replied with a wave of his hand. “Neither of them even notice me when I’m there. I know how to make myself scarce.”
“You shouldn’t have to do that.”
“Shouldn’t. And yet I do. Are we ready to shout that lunch is ready, Bolt?”
Emma knew a deflection when she heard one. She had lost him. Temporarily at least. She was trained to help, trained to be patient. Today, Gabe had revealed more than she’d hoped, and even though he never referred to his abuser, she still had enough to work with. The assumption was always his father, though she could be wrong. She would need to tread carefully.
“Yeah, we’re done. Go and ring the bell. The masses will be in here before it chimes a second time.”
“Are you staying the night, Gabe?” Emma asked before he dashed into the dining hall.
“Got no choice.” He pouted. “Social worker told me it was here or the kid’s home. She’s coming early tomorrow to make sure I’m still here. Told her I ain’t staying. I’m gonna find a job and get my own place. Not like they can do much anyway.”
Emma watched his expression as it grew serious. Pride burst within her. “How old are you?”
“Sixteen,” he answered. “Not that it matters.”
“It does.” She moved closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I think that’s a very brave thing—to strike out on your own at your age.”
“Don’t have much choice. Do I?”
“I can see why you’d think that.” She paused, waiting until he looked at her. “Gabe, would you give me a couple of days to look into a few ideas? I know of a couple of schemes that might be able to help you, but I’d need to check for age limits, and the exact details.”
His eyes thinned as he squinted at her. “What schemes?”
“It’s a bit soon to say, though I know of a few that have bedsit places as long as you are in full time employment. Now that we know you’re sixteen and your circumstances we can look into things like that.”
“Gotta get a job then.” He made it a certainty, not a possibility. She liked that very much.
“Let me see what I can do. Will you stay here without protesting and let me help you?”
Gabe offered up the usual noncommittal shrug. “Not waiting around forever.” Emma opened her mouth, about to interrupt when he winked at her. “I have a life to plan, Priss.”
Smiling at the use of the nickname, she let him walk into the dining room and call the others to lunch. That one small action from him—the wink, was why she worked at the shelter. Gabe trusted her when he had little reason to trust anyone. She was going to make sure it wasn’t wasted.
***
“May I ask why you’re in such a rush?”
Emma looked across the room at her father, tearing her gaze away from the documents she was filing. “Hey, Dad. I didn’t think you were in the office.”
“I wasn’t.” He walked further into the room. “But realising my daughter was working this afternoon, I decided to come and see how she was.”
He hugged her, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace. “That’s nice. Thank you.”
He kissed her cheek and pulled away. “I also came to see if I could take you to dinner. We haven’t had a catch up in a while.”
A huge smile spread across her face. “I would love to…”
“But?” He loosened his brilliant blue tie.
“I’m already meeting someone. I’m sorry. Can we sort out another day, please?”
Jonathan Carnes frowned at his daughter. “You didn’t say who you were meeting. I’m assuming it’s not Meagan. You would have said her name.”
“Dad, I’m twenty-six. I can meet people other than Meagan for dinner.”
“So definitely not Meagan. Male then.” His eyebrows rose almost meeting his salt and pepper hair as he waited for her response. She hated being under his scrutiny, even though it was nothing more than parental concern.
“I’m meeting Asher. You’ll see him soon, if you stick around. He’s coming here to pick me up.”
“That’s very brave of him.” He readjusted his tie, smartening himself back up. “Does he know whose office he’s coming to? And how long have you been seeing Asher?”
Emma nodded and turned back to her filing. “He sure does. Don’t go all overbearing parent on him. I like him. I can do without you scaring him away.”
“I won’t. I’ll just be gently reminding him who your father is. And that I know plenty of legal loopholes that would allow me to get away with murder. Or bodily injury of any kind.”
Jonathan walked across the room to stand beside her. He flicked through the remaining folders on the desk, befo
re picking up the top one.
“You don’t have to help me, Dad. I’m capable of putting them back in alphabetical order.”
“Well aware, Emma. I thought I’d help so that you had time to get ready for your date.”
“It’s not—”
Jonathan laughed loudly. “Oh, honey, it most definitely is a date. You have never allowed a man, or boy, to collect you where there is the prospect of meeting me. This one must be special.”
“Dad.”
Side-stepping the conversation, he kissed her cheek and asked, “How was the shelter?”
Emma sat down on the chair by the files. “Tough. Some days really take their toll. I’ve got a few things to work through. Hopefully, I can make a difference to one of them.”
“You make a difference to many, I bet. I’m proud of the work you do there. And I know I say it a lot, but I’m here if you need anything.”
Emma nodded, still mulling over the thoughts she had about Gabe.
“Oh, by the way, you had a call here earlier. He hung up when I said you weren’t working until later.”
Curious, Emma asked, “Did he leave a name?”
“Will. Just said it was Will.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know a Will. And you know I never get calls here. Are you sure it was for me?”
“Yes. I thought it was one of your shelter kids.”
A light rap on the door ended their conversation and had her thoughts scattering. Asher. He stood in the doorway, holding a fresh bouquet of irises. His grey shirt and black trousers were so smart on him. Not a single crease showed on the fabric. He’d rolled up the sleeves to his elbows, the top two buttons left undone. The only thing casual about Asher tonight was the black, knitted beanie hat on his head.
Emma sighed. The man was a complete distraction.
Her father chuckled as heat rose up her neck. She stuttered. “H-Hi.”
“These are for you.” He held out the flowers.
Emma took them from him, lifting the bouquet to her nose and inhaling. “Thank you. Asher, this is my father, Jonathan. Dad, this is Asher.”
The men shook hands, her dad eyeballing Asher for a heartbeat or two. Asher didn’t back down. He kept his grip firm as he shook her father’s hand, filling her with joy.
