Igniting Ash (4 page)

There was an awkwardness that started to grow between them when the food had been eaten and the cups had been drained. Asher checked his watch, gasping when he realized they’d been in the restaurant for hours and it was now nearing three in the morning.

“When we agreed on coffee I never meant to hold you hostage until now.”

Emma looked down at her own watch. “Wow. Neither did I. I didn’t notice the time at all.”

“I should drive you home. It’s really late.”

Emma slid out of the booth, waiting for Asher to stand beside her before moving over to the door. “I had fun tonight. I didn’t expect to.”

“Me to,” he said quietly, removing his car keys from his back pocket. “The night wasn’t what I’d expected.”

“It’s nice to be surprised sometimes.” Underlining her point, she reached up on her tip toes and placed a small peck on his cheek. “Thank you for being a wonderful surprise, Asher.”

He gaped at her, his mouth bobbing open and closed as she climbed into the passenger seat. He touched the skin she’d kissed, his blood pounding as it rushed through his veins. Cursing his body’s reaction to her, he pulled open the car door, wondering what on earth was going to happen next.

Chapter 4

Emma

Emma slotted the folder back on the shelf, trying to focus on her job and not be, once again, distracted by the events of the weekend. Reconnecting with Asher had been a wonderful surprise, so completely unexpected. Since that moment she’d been hit with many long forgotten memories. All of them contained Asher, and each one of them was heart-breaking.

She would have liked to talk about them with him, discuss what had happened to him the night she’d given him the money. That wasn’t going to happen anytime soon; not only had he put a block on the subject but she hadn’t left her number with him. Nor had he offered up his own.

The night would remain just that—one night.

“Can you come and talk to a new arrival, Emma?”

Turning her chair toward the sound of Jack’s voice, she smiled at her colleague. The man was a marvel, long past retirement but showing no signs of giving up his calling in life or slowing down.

“Sure. Everything okay?”

Concern contorted her bosses face as he rung his hands. “Doc’s just seeing to him now, or at least trying to. He’s refusing treatment, cowering and covering his head. The usual signs. I think you might soothe him. Maybe enough for you to clean his wounds.”

“How old?” she asked, pushing up from her seat and reaching for her notebook and pen.

“Not sure, fourteen? Fifteen? Skinny little thing. You won’t be surprised to hear he refuses to give us his name.”

“But he found us, huh? That’s a good thing. Did he say how?”

Jack shook his head as they walked down the short corridor together. A few teenagers were hovering at the entrance to the day room, chatting quietly. They shifted out of the way, allowing Emma and Jack through, offering only a quick nod in acknowledgment. Emma had learned long ago that sometimes a small action, like a nod, was as good as it got with some of the centre’s guests.

Laughter rose from around the snooker table as Nikki and a few other regulars started to dance along with the music on the radio. Laughter wasn’t something she heard often in the centre, so when it did happen it lightened everyone’s mood greatly.

“Hey, Miss Priss,” Nikki shouted, waving at Emma.

It was a nickname she never liked but somehow, as Nikki grew to trust Emma more, the name didn’t seem as harsh. The girl was only fourteen but had already been living on the streets for over two years. The lifestyle she’d been involved in wasn’t one Emma liked to imagine as the young girl still bore the scars. Physical and mental.

Nikki had now been at the shelter for over a month, progressing well with daily therapy sessions. The change in her was huge, though there was still a way to go, and Emma always worried about what the future held. What would happen to her when she moved on? The shelter couldn’t house her forever, and Nikki had a track record for moving on very quickly. Emma suspected she didn’t want to be found so never stayed anywhere too long.

“Hey, Nikki.” Emma waved back.

“Can I talk to you?”

Emma shook her head. “I’m sorry. I need to go with Jack. You could wait in the office, though I don’t know how long I’ll be. Is it terribly important?”

Nikki chewed on her thumb nail, her dark eyes flitting around Emma’s face. The scar on her lip still stood out, the skin puckering tightly. After three surgeries it was the best it would ever be. Too much flesh had been cut away in the attack.

Diverting her thoughts, Nikki replied, “It’s not super important but I could kinda use a talk, ya know?”

“I’ll come and find you when I’ve finished this. Stay around the shelter.”

Emma hated having to put her off, even though it was necessary. It eased her guilt a little when Jack patted her shoulder, letting her know her decision had been the right one. He placed some pressure on her bicep, leading her toward the medical room and their new guest.

She could already hear the commotion coming from within the room and pushed open the door cautiously after knocking.

“Just don’t fucking touch me.” The boy shrank back. “I came here for some space, nothing more.”

The doctor held his hands up, gesturing to Emma that he was leaving the boy alone and he was all hers. Jack didn’t enter the room, clearly sensing another person would make the boy more fearful, and therefore more aggressive. They’d dealt with many kids like this.

“I’m Emma.” She took a step closer. “Your cuts look pretty bad. We don’t want to hurt you, only make sure they’re not infected.”

His blue eyes pierced hers, his lashes spiked with congealed blood. The cut that bisected his eyebrow was deep and definitely in need of a stitch or two. His cheek and lip had fared no better. Each of them held gashes and bruises of their own. The kid had been beaten badly, so it was no wonder he was demanding they back away. It was going to take an awful lot of knocking before this kid was going to open the door to them.

“
He
isn’t touching me.” The boy’s voice trembled when he spoke. He backed into the corner of the room, keeping his eyes on the doctor. A tremor racked his slim frame, Emma’s heart clenching in response. She’d dealt with many kids like this, but something about this one seemed worse. The boy was terrified.

There were days where she couldn’t keep her composure, where the day was simply too tough volunteering here. She had a feeling this was going to be one of those days.

“He won’t touch you unless you give him permission.” She took another small step over to him. “I could clean the cuts up. That’s if you want me too.” Heart pounding and insides twisting, she took one last step. “It can’t be comfortable for you with the blood matting your hair. I have some painkillers too. I’m not a nurse, but I know my way around a cotton ball and a bowl of antiseptic.”

The boy’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his fingers gripping the counter top until his knuckles began shake. Emma swallowed her anxiety, along with a good dose of sadness. Keeping a clear head was imperative in these situations.

“We don’t make you do anything you don’t want to here. Decisions are always yours to make.” She pointed toward the empty chair. “Sit down. Please let me help you. Let me clean up your cuts.”

The boy’s bottom lip quivered, and her heart cracked a little. How could someone do this to another person? He was just a child.

“You,” he responded, his voice shaking. “Only you. Tell him to get out.”

The doctor did wait for her to say it. He nodded, explaining he would wait outside but the door must remain open. Emma understood the rules. She didn’t know enough about medical procedures to go it alone. Hopefully the space between the boy and the two older men would be sufficient.

She motioned again for him to sit down, before reaching across the counter for the medical supplies. It would be obvious as she cleaned the cuts if they needed more than a band aid or two, and she’d have to address that with him should the need arise.

He stared at her, his nerves clearly reflected even though he tried to bury them behind a strong facade. As she moved her hand to clean his cheek, his jaw jutted out defiantly in an effort to show her he wasn’t scared.

“I can’t remember if I introduced myself. I’m Emma. I help out around here, doing whatever Jack needs me to—Jack owns the shelter. He’s just outside with the doctor.”

“Humph.”

Not put off by his response, she continued to talk as she removed the encrusted blood.

“Have you known about the shelter long? I always wonder if we put our name out there enough.”

The boy shrugged, hissing when Emma prodded at a small lesion on his chin.

“Not much of a talker, huh? Well, I can speak for the both of us. My mouth is rarely closed for long. I’m never lost for words. Did the doc introduce himself?”

“I know who he is. The white coat gives the fucker away.”

“Hey! Enough with the swearing.”

He rolled his bright blue eyes, closing them tightly in pain when she swiped at the cut. “Ouch.”

“This one is deep. It may need to be stitched.”

“No hospitals,” he quickly said as Emma tossed the bloody cotton balls into the dish so that she could dispose of them correctly.

His face was still a mess. However, it was now a little less horrific. She pulled up a chair in front of him, making eye contact before she spoke. “The doctor can do it here, but that means you have to allow him into the room. I can stay if you want me too.”

The boy’s facade cracked just a little when he asked, “Will it hurt?”

“A bit,” she said, deciding honesty was best when trying to set some foundations of trust between them. “But without the stitch to keep it closed it will take longer to heal, could get infected and will probably keep popping open whenever you move your eyebrow.”

The boy nodded, murmuring for Emma to fetch the doctor. She didn’t go right away. Instead she remained in the plastic chair across from him, watching his stilted movements. Looking at him and the bruises swelling the side of his face reminded her so much of Asher. He hadn’t used a shelter that she knew about, and he had been left to wait the snowy night out in a coffee shop. She wondered if he still had the physical scars of that night. His hair had blocked her view of him and without a way of contacting him she supposed she’d never know now.

Tentatively, Emma asked for his name again, and when the silence continued, she assumed her request had been ignored. Sighing heavily, she stood, scraping the chair across the floor. “I’ll get Doc.”

She heard his soft mutter as she reached the doorway. “Gabe. Name’s Gabe.”

She smiled back at him, ushering the doctor in and explaining what needed to be looked at. Gabe never broke eye contact with her, his pupils wide as the doctor set to work on his eyebrow. He was strong, not letting any sign of pain flicker across his face. It wasn’t unusual. Most of the kids that arrived at the shelter were used to hiding weakness. To them it could mean a matter of life or death on the streets. Nevertheless, it didn’t make the situation any easier to deal with. Their strength would always be her weakness.

“You doing okay?” she asked, starting to reach out and soothe him, but the way his eyes grew wide made her pause. She backed away, pulling a medical chart down from the noticeboard and began filling out the details.

“I’m not giving you my surname.” Gabe’s tone was defiant.

Giggling filtered into the room as two teenage girls walked past the medical room. Gabe’s eyes thinned, watching them suspiciously.

“I understand. How old are you?”

“Sixteen. But that’s all you’re getting.”

“We don’t ask too many questions around here. We just want to help.”

“Doubtful.” He snorted.

Emma bit back a smile. She knew the pattern of emotions, and right now Gabe was on target. The anger would return soon, hopefully making the dam on his emotions burst. Sometimes it took days, other times it was weeks but they all reached the point eventually. They’d all been hurt too much to hold it inside forever.

“I get how sceptical you are—most kids are when they come here, but ask yourself this: would the others stay if we didn’t help in some way? Even if it’s just to patch you up and leave you to go your own way.”

Gabe frowned, cursing a second later as he reached up to his eyebrow. The movement had obviously hurt him.

“Don’t touch it,” the doctor rumbled. “Your hands are dirty. The cut is clean.”

Gabe’s shoulders sagged. He stared at the open door, assessing everyone who walked by. He stayed calm while the doctor finished patching him up, but jumped onto his feet as soon as the last suture was placed in his flesh.

“Gabe? Would you like some food before you leave? I could show you to the kitchen. Bolt will prepare whatever takes your fancy.”

“Bolt?” he questioned, a smirk teasing the edge of his lips.

“Yeah. He was used to running away too. Always
bolting
out of the door.”

Appeased by her explanation, Gabe nodded, following her out of the room and across to the kitchen. Luckily, it wasn’t busy, though he did shrink back when he saw a group of boys sitting on a table in the corner. Emma escorted him around the counter, away from them.

Jack was the person who greeted them, not the larger than life, Bolt. He cocked his head toward the back door, adding, “Bolt’s unloading a food delivery. He won’t be long.”

Emma took the opportunity as it appeared. “Gabe, do you feel up to helping him? Bolt could always use an extra pair of hands when we get a delivery.”

Gabe frowned again, shrugging right after. “Guess so. If it gets me food faster.”

Grinning, Emma started to lead him out of the kitchen. Jack stalled her, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“You okay with this one? He’s responding to you better than me.”

“I’m fine. He just needs some baby steps.”

“Good. Let me know if you change your mind. We’ll figure something out.” Emma turned back to the door. “Oh, wait, I found this for you.” He handed her a small piece of paper. “The address of a bookshop. I found that book you wanted for your father’s birthday. Took me three hours but I actually found it. They’re holding it for you.”