Asher (13 page)

I knock on the door. “Auds?”

Turning to go, I berate myself. I practically shoved her away—and for what? To get my head straight.
Right.
Was it worth it? I don’t feel any less confused than I was last night.

The door behind me opens with a whine. “Ash!”

I turn back, smiling in spite of myself. “Auds.” She’s there, looking cute with her long red hair falling messily around her face. I reach for her, but she takes a step back.

Not good.

“I like your new haircut.” Her lips pull in a faint smile, mirroring mine, but there’s a tension about her shoulders. “Come in.”

Struggling to ignore the unease, I step into the apartment. “Are you sure? I can go.”

“No.” She grabs my hand and draws me into the living room. “Don’t be stupid. Sit down.”

“Okay.” I do as instructed, sitting on the sofa and she takes a seat beside me.

Something’s off. The back of my neck prickles. I lean forward, letting my hands hang between my legs, and stare at her, trying to put my finger on the source of my unease.

A fucking mistake. She’s gorgeous, more than ever, in her drawstring pants and long sweater, her pretty feet bare. My brain blanks out and I gape, my jaw hanging loose. She isn’t wearing a bra, I’m sure of it. I can see the outline of her nipples through the fabric, and I’m getting hard.
Fuck.

“Ash?”

I lick my dry lips. “You said... Yesterday you said you wanted to know more about me. That maybe you can help me. I—”

“Audrey?” A woman’s voice comes from the hallway behind me, startling the crap out of me. “Who’s there?”

“Just a friend, Mom.” Audrey rolls her eyes.

The reason for the general disquiet is now clear. “Your mom’s here?”

“Yeah. She wasn’t supposed to come, but decided to drop in unannounced.”

“Okay.” I straighten where I sit. “You must be happy to have her around.”

I haven’t seen Audrey’s mom in many years, but she always seemed like a nice lady.

Audrey ducks her head. “Sure. I missed her.”

Her reply leaves me frowning. She doesn’t sound as excited as I expected her to be. “You get along fine, don’t you?”

“Oh yeah.”

Good. It’s none of my business anyway. Not all parents are like my dad. I need to remember that.

I lean toward Audrey again and brush red curls out of her face. “Want me to come another time?”

She sighs. “I think that’d be—”

“Audrey.” Her mom stands at the door of the room, squinting at me. “Who’s your friend?”

She hasn’t recognized me. Not sure how I feel about that, I stand up and stick out my hand. “Asher Devlin, ma’am. We used to be neighbors. I don’t know if you remember—”

“You.” Audrey’s mom takes a step back, the blood draining from her face. “Your father... What are you doing here?”

My stomach drops. I don’t know what to say. I’ve let my defenses down because Audrey confessed she doesn’t blame me for this. I never thought how her mom must feel about me—and now I know.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Morrison, I meant no disrespect—”

“Get out.” Audrey’s mom points a trembling finger at me. “Get away from my daughter.”

“Mom!” Audrey stands behind me, fists clenched at her sides. “Stop it.”

“You stop it, Audie. He’s the son of your father’s killer.”

“And he’s my friend.”

In my shock, I let her step in front of me. I reach for her arm. “Auds...”

But Audrey’s on a roll. “You always say to forgive people and move on, and besides, it wasn’t his fault.”

“That’s different. Nothing against the boy, but dating my only daughter? My baby girl? No.”

Shit.

“We’re not dating,” Audrey says, glancing back at me, her eyes uncertain.

Not dating.
Right.
We haven’t talked about that. We made out, started talking. And now...

“I’ll go,” I say.

“Damn right you will,” Audrey’s mom says.

Audrey opens her mouth and for a second I think she’ll stop me, that she’ll tell her mother to shut up.

But she doesn’t. Instead, she says, “Ash, I think you’d better go.”

Yeah.

I shrug and leave, letting the door slam behind me. Fuck hope. Fuck believing in something better. I never learn, do I? Well, I’ll be busy tonight.

Looks like I have a fight to prepare for, after all.

Chapter Thirteen

Audrey

Seeing Ash leave, his body hunched over as if in pain, threatens to breaks my heart. He came to talk to me, he made the effort, found the trust, and all I can do is watch him go. I want to stop him, but I have to hash this out with my mom first.

I walk into the kitchenette to face her. “Mom, how could you say those things to him?” The same things
I
told him. The realization stings. “You were harsh.”

My mom sighs. “I know, but seriously, Audie, what were you thinking? Of all boys, why him?”

“Ash is a great guy.”

“Great guy? You told me he kept getting into fights. Did he even finish high school? Besides, you told me you couldn’t stand him.”

Oh god, I really did say all those things. “That was then. This is now.”

She looks at me hard. “You can do so much better than him.”

“Much better? What am I, a princess?” I huff. “He’s been nice to me.”

“His father...” Her voice breaks, and my chest tightens.

“I know. But that’s his dad, not Ash.”

“Audie...” Her voice softens. “Apples don’t fall far from the tree.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Anger is building inside me. I understand why she’s so angry with Ash—hell, I was, too. But I’ll make her see how wrong she is, like Ash has done with me.

“You should stay away from him. His father’s a drunk and a violent man, and so is Asher.”

“They’re not the same,” I say. “You can’t judge him by what his father did.”

“God, girl.” She leans against the counter. “Asher’s father had to stop boxing because he almost killed a man once, and it’s no secret he drinks. As for Asher, don’t you remember how he got suspended from school all the time, how he kept getting into fights? He walked around bruised on most days, and his brother wasn’t any better.”

“Ash isn’t violent.” He’s so gentle with me, always concerned he might hurt me. God, it’s all I can do not to run after him. “You don’t know him.”

“And you do? He isn’t the boy you used to play with.”

“And that’s his father’s fault.”

“How do you mean?”

I bite my lip. It isn’t my place to spill Ash’s secret when he’s kept it from mostly everyone. Not yet, anyway. “Just take my word for it.”

She seems to struggle with something. She draws a deep breath.

“Audie.” Her eyes glitter. “Have you slept with this boy?”

“God, Mom, that’s none of your business!”

“Sure it is. I’m your mother—”

“I’m eighteen! I’m an adult.”

“Have you slept with him or not?”

“No, I haven’t.” Technically, I haven’t, although the things we’ve done together... I feel a hot flush creep up my neck.

“Hm.” My mom gives me a suspicious look, then turns back to the counter where she’s setting out the chopping board and knife. “You don’t want to be with someone like him.”

“Really. And what is he like?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know. You’re only eighteen, Audie. What’s your rush? There’re plenty of boys out there.”

“You don’t understand.” I watch her take out vegetables and cheese from the fridge and my heart clenches. “I really like him.”

“You’ll get over him. Give it some time.”

“He was here for me.” I bite my tongue before I blurt the whole thing out—the attack at the campus, Ash defending me, carrying me. Mom would freak out and the last thing I want is her deciding it’s too dangerous for me living here alone.

“I’m here for you,” she says softly, and I can hear the hurt in her voice, but I’m too angry to stop myself.

“Not really. I spent Christmas with Ash.”

She turns around, her eyes narrowed. “I see. And just because you spent Christmas day with him, he’s more important to you now than me?”

Tears burn my eyes. “Come on, Mom, don’t do this.”

“Not doing anything.”

But she is. She’s making it sound like I have to choose between them.

“Audie, you barely know him.” She frowns. “I can’t believe you went from avoiding him to defending him so fast.”

I take a knife and start cutting a zucchini into small cubes, avoiding her gaze. “I’ve known him most of my life. I’ve been in love with him for many years, Mom.”

“Honestly, girl.” Mom stabs a tomato like she wants to murder it. “I’d know if that was true.”

“Dad knew. And Tessa.”

Her lips purse. I’d always been closer to Dad rather than her. It wounds her, and I know that, but what can I do?

We cut vegetables in tense silence for a while, and she throws them in a pot. She’s making her wine stew, which I love, but I can’t relax.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come for Christmas,” she finally says. “You know I had work.”

“I know, Mom.”

“I’m not asking you to choose between us, honey.” She glances at me sideways as she heaps spices into the pot. “But promise me you’ll think about it before seeing him again. That boy’s trouble, always has been. You’re a good, intelligent young woman. You could have anyone you wanted.”

I shake my head and don’t answer. Because the one I want is Ash.

***

We eat, seated at the small dining table with its yellow tablecloth. Mom tells me stories about her work and her crazy colleagues, then sadder ones from the organizations she’s helping with. I didn’t know so many young people are driven to homelessness because of problems at home.

My thoughts immediately turn to Ash. At least he still has a home. Right? I frown, toying with my food. Would he go back to his father after what he did to him? Ash hasn’t said anything about that. Maybe he’ll stay with relatives?

I need to talk to him. I itch to grab my cell, lock myself up in my room and call him. But Mom’s in a chatty mood, maybe a bit forced after our discussion, trying to get me to tell her more about college and my new friends.

Then, when I’m about to find an excuse to escape to my room, she manages to distract me with presents. She’s bought me a short dress that fits like a glove, and a velvety sweater, and cute pink jammies and gorgeous high heels.

“Jesus, Mom.” I put on the shoes and I’m in love with them instantly. They’re sleek and black and make my legs look endless. “Thank you.”

“Anything for my little girl.”

I wince inwardly. We bonded since Dad died. We both made an effort, compromising, accepting our incompatibilities, laughing about them. I know she loves me with all her heart, I’m sure of it, and I love her the same.

But I’m not a little girl anymore. I know where this is coming from, I mean, she’s my mom, but she has to see I’m a woman now, and I can make my own choices.

Ash...

“Want to go for a walk?” Mom’s checking the weather outside the bay window. It looks gray but dry.

“Sure. Give me five minutes to get dressed.”

Mom sighs and clears away the dishes as I hurry into my room and close the door, leaning against it.

I call Ash’s cell, then Zane’s apartment, my heart thumping.
Pick up, Ash, come on, pick up.

But no answer. The phone rings and rings, and my stomach churns. I should have told him I’d call, that we’d talk later, but Mom caught me by complete surprise, first by her unexpected arrival and then her vehement rejection of Ash. I’d been in shock, if that explained the fact I told him to go away.

Crap, that was the only thing I told him. And he left. God knows what he thought.

Disconnecting, I stare at the blank screen of the phone for a long moment. I’ll call him again in the evening. He’s probably out walking, or running errands.

Pulling on my brand new sweater, hoping I’m right, I go to find Mom.

Part III

ASH

In my memory, I must be sixteen. I know because it’s a few months after the accident that took Audrey’s dad and right after Mom died, at the end of her long battle with the sickness.

The world is a dark place.

And it’s turning darker by the day.

Dad looms over me. ‘You’re good for nothing,’ he says. ‘Can’t even learn what I’m doing my best to teach you, not like your brother. He was a quick study. Fast with his fists and legs. Made to be a champion.’

‘I’m trying,’ I say, and it’s the truth.

‘Not trying enough. Move. Dodge. Block.’ He moves faster than my eye can follow, and the pain comes before I see the blow. ‘Your brother’s better.’

‘Tyler left.’ Another truth.

‘Yeah, so I’m saddled with you. A pussy. Can’t handle your own shit. Getting into fights at school. Failing your classes. You think I don’t know?’

‘You’re the reason I—’

The blow catches me in the stomach and I double over. Bile rises in my throat and I puke all over his shoes.

Bad idea. I hear the dreaded sound of his buckle opening, the leather slithering through the loops, coming free. He walks around me, grabs the neckline of my shirt and rips it down my back. Cool air hits my skin. I know what’s coming, and another wave of nausea hits me.

‘Dad,’ I croak, my mouth too dry. ‘Please, don’t. I’m sorry. I’m sorry—’

A swish and then the buckle impacts my back, slicing through the skin, and I cry out.

‘Shut your mouth, pussy,’ he hisses. ‘Never beg. Never sniffle. You’re a man. Take it like one. That’s what you deserve.’

And he hits me again and again and again.