One True Thing (38 page)

didn’t get it. I’d just hoped since we both had the

time free, we would spend some of it together.

Instead, the moment he got back from the baptism

he had to photograph that morning, he’d vanished

into his studio.

I’d been tempted to knock more than once, but

I figured he was probably working. So I’d kept

myself busy with other things—cleaning, laundry,

reorganizing the entryway closet, even some

Pilates. Finally, after hours of me tinkering around

the rest of the apartment by myself, he’d appeared

in the kitchen while I was heating some of the

leftover vegetable soup I’d made a few days

before, looking bone tired and miserable. He’d

brushed a too-light kiss across my cheekbone,

grabbed a bottle of tea from the fridge, and gone

out into the living room to slump down onto the

couch. And since then he hadn’t moved.

“Fuck!”

His sudden outburst—so loud our neighbors

probably heard it across the hall—nearly made me

drop the bowl of soup I’d been carrying to the

breakfast bar. I quickly set it on the counter and

went over to him to see what was wrong. “Asher?

What is it?”

He was sitting on the edge of the couch with

his elbows on his knees, his fingers buried his

hair. “I just tried to call Archer for the fifth time

today,” he muttered, “and it went to voice mail.

Yet again. He told me he’d try to get me some

cash, and now he’s avoiding my calls.”

I stepped closer and reached out to touch his

shoulder. “Ash—”

“
Goddammit!
” His shout made me flinch, but

it was his sudden flurry of movement that sent me

stumbling back and falling onto the love seat.

For a moment I wasn’t sure what had

happened. Then I realized the half-empty tea

bottle, which had been sitting innocuously on the

coffee table only seconds before, had been

reduced to nothing more than a mess of brown

liquid and shattered glass at the base of the

opposite wall. He’d thrown it, luckily missing the

entertainment center and the TV, but he’d done a

bit of damage to the drywall, not to mention the

puddle that was spreading across the light beige

carpet.

I stared at him in shock, overcome by an

unexpected trembling. The room was filled with

the sound of his panting, his hands were curled into

fists at his sides, and for the first time ever, I was

afraid of him.

The last man to lose his temper around me

had decided to work out his anger on my body. In

the months we’d been together, I’d never

experienced even a flicker of fear around Asher.

Not once. With him, I’d felt nothing but protected,

safe—until right at that very moment.

I knew he wasn’t mad at me. He hadn’t even

touched me. But that knowledge did nothing to

alleviate the twisting nausea in my stomach, the

clamminess on my skin, the shaking I couldn’t

seem to get under control now that it had started.

“Oh, shit,” he said, as if he’d only just

realized what he’d done, himself. His eyes were

still on the mess he’d made. “Oh, Jesus. I didn’t

mean to do that. I’m sorry. I’ll go get the—” He

looked at me then, and his words broke off.

Whatever he saw in my face made the blood drain

from his. “Dusty….”

Asher took a cautious step toward me, and I

shook even harder, helpless to stop myself.

“Dusty, no.” He went on his knees and

reached for my hands slowly, giving me a chance

to pull away if I wanted.

I forced my hands to stay where they were, let

him thread our fingers together. My breathing was

ragged, my pulse racing madly from nerves and

fear. I didn’t want to be scared of him. I didn’t

want
it. The fact that it was an instinctive reaction,

one I hadn’t been able to prevent, made me feel

even worse. Most guys wouldn’t be so freaked

over a little moment of anger. I knew that. But
most

guys had probably never been that bottle, the thing

being flung against the wall in a fit of rage.

I had, and I remembered.

“God, I’m such an asshole,” Asher said,

gripping my fingers tightly. “I lost my cool for a

second there. This is so not like me, Dusty. I swear

it isn’t. I’ve been stressed to death, but that’s no

excuse. I’m sorry, okay? Don’t be scared. Don’t be

afraid of me. I’d never hurt you.” He paused and

released my hands so he could bring his own up to

cradle my face. “Dusty? You know that, right?”

I managed a thick, dry swallow. Next, I

nodded, just once. Asher looked about as bad as I

felt, his eyes dark and damp with remorse, mouth

quivering. And I did know. I knew, deep down, he

never would hurt me. But as the saying went, old

habits die hard. I wasn’t sure if I could have

stopped how I’d reacted even if I’d known it was

coming.

“I’m sorry.” Asher rested his forehead against

mine. “Dust… I love you so much. I’ve just… I’ve

been so….”

“I know.” I wrapped my arms around him and

drew him closer to me, offering comfort while

taking some for myself. His shudder of relief

rocked us both. My own shaking had finally

calmed. “I know,” I repeated. I kissed him softly

and nuzzled my nose into the space next to his.

“Ash… let me help. I have a couple grand in

savings. You can pay me back later, okay?”

“Dusty….”

“Please.” I pulled back far enough so he

could see my eyes, see how serious I was. “You’re

working yourself to the point of exhaustion, and

it’s killing me to watch. Just take it, okay? Take the

money.”

He stared at me for a few long, tense seconds.

Then slowly, he nodded. “All right.”

“Good. Tomorrow, I’ll get it for you, and

we’ll go from there.”

Asher nodded again, but he wasn’t looking at

me anymore. His cheeks had flushed red with what

I knew was humiliation. “I should clean up my

mess.”

I shook my head and slid off the love seat and

onto his lap, burrowing my fingers into his hair and

forcing his gaze to meet mine. I wasn’t about to let

him hide. There wasn’t any need for him to be

embarrassed. Not with me. “No,” I said. “We’ll

clean it together.”

And I wasn’t just talking about the bottle.

Asher

“YOU’VE got to be goddamned kidding me!” I

dropped my phone on the couch rather forcefully.

Threw was more like it, but at least I threw it on

the couch and not the floor where it would shatter.

I couldn’t afford to buy a new one. Especially with

all the money I might be spending very soon.

“What, hon?” Dusty poked his concerned face

around the corner from where he’d been folding a

stack of laundry.

“Archer’s phone is turned off. Like

permanently off. That little fucker.”

“What are you—?” Dusty broke off when I

grabbed my keys and headed for the door.

“I’m going over there.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Dusty’s

eyes got all big and worried. I would’ve smiled if

I wasn’t so far beyond the point that it wasn’t

possible.

“If I don’t, and the dumbass has taken off

somewhere I can’t find him, then I’m totally

screwed. Maybe I should’ve just let my mom

ambush him. Then I’d know where he was.”

“You really think he’d just take off and screw

you over that badly?”

“Probably. That’s why I’m going over there.”

Dusty put down the shirt he’d been holding.

“And I’m coming with you. You’ve been in this too

much by yourself. I know he’s your brother, but I

want to be there.”

I surprised myself by nodding. I wanted him

to be there for me too.

The ride to Archer’s place was tense and

quiet. Dusty kept his hand on my leg the whole

time, either in support or maybe just to calm me

down. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gotten

so angry. Maybe never. I was shaking by the time

we pulled up. Visibly so. Dusty moved his hand

from my thigh to my arm.

“Hon, what are you going to do if he is

gone?”

I huffed out a mirthless laugh. “I don’t know.

Go find him and kill him? I probably should’ve

called the cops at the beginning. I just didn’t want

to, you know? He’s still my brother.”

Dusty nodded. “I know. And that makes you a

good person. Yeah, he screwed you over, but you

still love him. I get it.”

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t, but yeah. I love

him.”

“Then let’s go see if he’s still around. Maybe

he’s come up with some cash somehow.”

WE COULD smell the weed before we were even

at the front door. Dusty shot me a concerned look,

and I just rolled my eyes. Of course. He had drugs.

He couldn’t give me any damn money for the bills

he racked up, but it was no problem to supply the

entertainment for his deadbeat friends. The door

wasn’t locked. I just opened it and waltzed into the

thick haze, ready to kill the first person I came

across.

“Oh, it’s hot, angry twin.” I remembered that

kid’s face. I wanted to stomp it.

“Where’s Archer?”

I got a giggle in return. “He’s in his room, but

I’m not sure you want to go in there.” Eyebrow

waggle.

Jesus Christ.
I rolled my eyes and stormed

down the hallway to Archer’s room. He was in

there, half-dressed, with two, no, three other guys.

They were all bombed out of their heads and in

various stages of getting it on. I stalked over there,

grabbed Archer, and pulled his arm as hard as I

could. He stumbled a little bit, then tried to yank

his arm away.

“Ow, Ash. That hurts. Stop.” His voice was

slurry. Probably drunk too.

I dragged him out to the hallway. Yeah, it was

technically public and some of the neighbors might

hear, but I wasn’t doing it in front of his friends.

“Is this how you’re working to help me pay off the

bills? You said you were going to give me cash

today, remember?” I ground out, once we were in

the hall with only him, me, and Dusty.

Archer’s head lolled back. “What’s he doing

here?” he mumbled.

“He’s here to make sure I don’t kill you.

Answer the question. Where’s the money?”

Archer giggled. “I had to party. It was… like,

well, you know.”

“No, I
don’t
know. I’ve been working my ass

off. You can’t even meet me halfway?”

“Jus’ change your number or something. They

can’t find you then.”

“Fuck, Arch.” I dropped him on the ground.

“Ow, ow, ow,” he mumbled, then made the

noise again and laughed. “Owwwww.” I left him

there, forming vowels with his mouth and poking at

the air in front of him.

“I’d love to know what else he took,” Dusty

whispered. “You think he’ll be okay?”

I gritted my teeth. “He’s better off with me not

here. I’m gonna flatten him.” Dusty put his hand on

my back, tentative. I knew he was still a bit

startled from my outburst the other night.
Damn.

Could any more personal bullshit of mine taint our

relationship? “I’m starting to think I might have to

do what you said.”

“Call the cops?”

I sighed. “Maybe. I’m not going to do it when

he has who knows what the hell drugs in his

system, though. Sleep on it, I guess.”

I hated Archer for putting me in such an awful

position. Lose way more money than I had, or turn

my brother into a criminal. Officially. My stomach

cramped, and I sagged against the wall.

“Hey, why don’t you let me drive us home?”

Dusty asked.

I handed my keys over without protest.

I SPENT the night following up on leads for gigs.

One of the magazines I’d applied to, local food

and travel, had asked if I wanted to shoot some

scenes for their wine country issue. The pay was

less than half of one of Dom’s shoots, but I’d

already called Dom so many times in the past few

weeks. He’d given me everything he had. My

schedule was packed, morning to night: weddings,

porn shoots, birthday parties, even the odd portrait

here and there. It was the best I could do. It wasn’t

enough.