by Elle Luckett
The need to drop my gaze struck me, but I defied my instinct, met those blue eyes, and held steady. The past was firmly in the past, and I was determined that even the memories would stay there. Asher had made his choices, I’d made mine, and I wouldn’t regret anything. I wouldn’t revisit it, either.
“Mr. Morris.” I tipped my head respectfully.
“Mr. Morris?” he repeated.
“What can I get for you?”
“An explanation would be nice,” he ground out, that jaw tensing under the beard, giving it definition.
“I meant to drink.”
“Shauna—”
“Water?” I asked, reaching under the counter to grab one from the ice bucket. I slid it across the surface to him and turned to walk away.
“Shauna, you owe me an explanation. You owe me that much.”
I didn’t turn around to face him again. I didn’t think I was strong enough for that.
“I don’t owe you a damn thing,” I said and walked away... again.
The late morning sun fell directly over my bed from the east-facing windows, heating my room and forcing me to kick off my comforter. The cold air from the AC was a blessing, but the body draped over my chest was like a personal radiator. My daughter Ashleigh.
She was the light and joy of my life.
My smile grew as I gazed at her sweet, cherubic face. She was faking sleep. I could tell from the crazy way her eyes moved behind those pale eyelids forcing her dark eyelashes to dance over her cheeks, and the way her dimples flickered as her smile came and was pushed back in an attempt to be convincing. From the cheerio stuck in her long dark hair, I figured she’d be up for a while before crawling into my bed.
Exaggerating a yawn, I eased my arms out from under her, my fingers at the ready for tickles, even as a hint of those soft blue eyes appeared through tiny slits. I indulged her for a moment, my index finger trailing from the tip of her nose and up between her eyes, something she’d started asking me to do after I’d taken her to see the second Frozen movie. It broke her, the giggle soft and girly, her beautiful doe eyes opening wide and blasting me with the full effect.
“Morning, Momma.”
“Good morning, baby.” I raised my head and kissed the tip of her nose, making it wrinkle. “Where’s Mema?”
“In the kitchen. She’s making pancakes and asked me to come get you.”
I gazed at the clock on my nightstand and silently thanked the goddess that was my mother. She’d managed to keep Ashleigh occupied and let me sleep in until ten this morning. She didn’t always manage this when Ashleigh decided she wanted to see me before going to school or grew bored on the weekends.
“What kind of pancakes?”
“Chocolate chip for me and mouse shapes for you, Grandpa, and Uncle Preston.”
“Isn’t she wonderful?” I asked, winding my arms around Ashleigh’s tiny form and holding her to me as I sat up. This had been much easier to do even a year ago. She was losing her baby features and turning into a little lady. Mom liked to tell me she was five going on fifteen.
“Yes. Mema let me watch both Frozen movies this morning and said if I let you sleep until after ten, she would take me to the park later.”
“She spoils us.”
“Y’all are my girls, who else am I gonna spoil?” Momma asked from the door where she was leaning against the frame holding a mug with my name on it. She was so old-South. From her accent down to her style, she could have stepped right into a scene from Steel Magnolias and fit right in. Perfectly coiffed, my mom was a picture in a daisy sundress and one of her homemade aprons. Her makeup was perfect, and not a hair dared to fall out of place. Daddy had always said she was born in the wrong decade because she firmly believed a woman should be a woman while adopting the more modern opinion that they should also be able to do for themselves. She’d brought me up to be the same way, and now she worked from home, having a granddaughter suited her just fine. “Now, Ashleigh Laurel, you go get yourself seated next to Grandpa. Your momma and I will be along shortly.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The hint of petulance in Ashleigh’s tone had me pressing my lips to her forehead before she shuffled from my arms and dropped to the floor. She was wearing a summer dress in a beautiful turquoise color, while her dark hair was a riot of natural curls falling over her shoulders.
My mom bent to kiss the top of her head, patting Ashleigh on the butt to stop her from dawdling as she passed, then closed the door behind her. Heading to the bed, she handed me my coffee and sat on the foot, studying me carefully. The concern in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed by me.
“What is it?” I asked, blowing the steam from the top of the mug and taking a sip. The flavor of the chicory my dad and I favored was accented with the warm milk she’d added. A treat for Saturday mornings.
“I feel like I have to precede this by saying I wasn’t intentionally snooping. I came across it accidentally.”
“You came across what?”
“Your phone and the message on the screen.”
I tended to charge my phone on the kitchen station my father had organized once the “damn wires” in this house got out of control. I also didn’t use the hide messages option on my phone because it made it easier for me to sneak a peek while I was at work without unlocking it.
“I was checking my messages because Iona has her grandbabies this weekend, and we’re meeting them down at the park.”
Iona was Momma’s best friend and had been since they were born. She was the yin to her yang and had always been a second mother to me. She was also officially my godmother.
“And?”
“Your phone pinged with a text message. It was a number rather than a contact. I only saw the first line or two, but…” Mom trailed off, her hand rising to sit between her breasts, a sign that this was disturbing to her.
I had that sinking feeling from the night before rush over me at the flustered look on her face. I didn’t hide much from my mom. She knew all there was to know about me, which meant Iona did as well, but she was happy to keep Daddy in the dark. My lifestyle choices were understood and filed away under her mental drawer of things she couldn’t control.
“It sounded quite threatening, baby.”
“Mom, just spit it out.”
She didn’t. Instead, she dug my cell from her apron and handed it to me like it was a contaminant.
Waking up the screen, I saw four messages waiting for me, but the top was the one she’d seen.
It’s Asher. You need to call me. Last night...
How the hell had he managed to get my number?
I stared at the phone, mutely trying to decide whether I wanted to read the rest of the message. It was the most foreboding ellipsis I’d ever dealt with in my life.
“Is that who I think it is?”
Ballooning my cheeks, I forced all the air from my lungs and nodded. When I said I told my Momma everything, I’d told her about Asher Morris and our relationship in Gatlinburg before coming home. She’d known about him while I’d been in the partnership. I hadn’t been able to hide how I felt about Asher from her. When it came to her children, Anna-Mae Monroe was a bloodhound. Resistance was futile.
“That asshole is in New Orleans?”
“Momma!”
“What?”
I let out an involuntary laugh. Momma didn’t often cuss, which made it so much more effective when she did.
“Are you telling me that word doesn’t apply to him?”
I ran my free hand through my hair while I considered it.
“I don’t know what he is. I was working the bar last night, looked up, and there he was. Handsome as sin and brooding. He demanded that I explain myself to him.”
“You saw him?”
“I was gonna tell you, Momma, don’t look at me like that.”
Opening her mouth to respond, she was interrupted when the door was pushed open, and my munchkin appeared, once again, with her sweet smile, hair wild, and her favorite Sve
n stuffy tucked under her arm. “Uncle Preston is here for pancakes.”
“Thank you, sugar. I’m gonna brush my teeth and be right with you.”
“Okay.” She sang the word, drawing out the vowels as she backed out of the room again, the patter of her feet rushing toward the front of the house.
I felt my mom’s hand on my ankle as I stared after her. The tumult of emotions hammering against my chest was painful and overwhelming. Considering reading the rest of the text made me feel queasy. There was no escaping the fact that I was going to have to talk to Asher.
“I’m going to keep her occupied today. Do what you have to do, think it over, make decisions rationally, and if you need any of us, all you have to do is call. We have your back, baby. If you need Daddy and Preston to send him on his way, you have that right.”
“Momma, I don’t need Daddy or Preston to fight my battles for me. Asher is a part of the club. If I say no, he will needle me a bit, but he’ll also respect my answer. Six years won’t change that.”
“A lot changes in six years.”
“Not that.” Dominants didn’t usually stray from the basic rules. Even if it chapped his ass, Asher would respect my decision to refuse a conversation with him. No matter how little I knew him now, I understood that much. I just wasn’t sure I was going to turn him away. The pain I’d felt seeing Asher standing at the bar—the jolt of emotion that had ebbed through me... I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
“It’s like I said, it’s up to you how you handle this. We’re here no matter what you need.”
“Thanks, Momma.”
Squeezing my ankle one last time, she rose to her feet and headed to the bedroom door following Ashleigh to the kitchen. I unfolded myself from the bed and headed to the bathroom, wishing I had time for more than a quick tooth brushing. I needed the time to think, but the pancakes, and Preston, wouldn’t wait.
“There she is!” Preston sang as I entered the kitchen ten minutes later. He was sitting behind the island with a plate full of bacon, sausage, and pancakes untouched in front of him, while Ashleigh sat on his knee, searching his pockets. As an EMT, he had plenty of them in his cargo pants and never came over without hiding her favorite candy in one of them.
I made my way to him and ruffled his hair before kissing the top of his head.
“Y’all didn’t have to wait on me to eat.”
“It’s no bother, baby girl,” Daddy answered before Mom could. “Your mom just got through plating up.”
I kissed him on the top of the head, too, as I passed to reach the coffee maker.
“Ashleigh, you can continue the search after your breakfast,” I said over my shoulder. “Let Uncle Preston eat.”
“Okay.”
She was slipping into her seat when I turned again, gummy bears sitting next to her plate and a triumphant grin on her face. Armed with coffee, as well as being handed an orange juice as I passed Momma, I made my way to my usual chair. I was just settling in when my phone vibrated in my pocket. My parents had a rule about no phones at the table that we all adhered to. Meals were family time in their opinion, and family time meant giving one another our full, undivided attention. Something I agreed on. Especially when Ashleigh liked to keep us up to date with the latest goings-on in Paw Patrol. This morning, it felt like the phone was white-hot and burning a hole in my pocket. I still hadn’t opened the text and read the whole message from Asher, and I hadn’t so much as glanced at the other texts or who they were from.
I snuck a look, barely pulling my phone from my pocket as I glanced down at my hip.
It’s Asher again. Can I call you?
“Shauna.”
“Sorry.” I pushed it back in my pocket and smiled at my daughter, who always found it amusing when I was reprimanded by my mother. Especially when it was something even she knew I shouldn’t be doing.
“Do you need to take that?” Momma asked, all tact and subterfuge gone.
“No. It can wait.”
The fact that Mom was condoning this behavior had my brother and father swinging their faces from my mother to me and back like they were watching a tennis rally.
“Are you sure?”
I met her mossy green eyes and pleaded with her to stop before the men in my life started asking questions that I wasn’t ready to answer. “Momma, I need a shower before I can deal with anything today.”
“You don’t need a shower to answer a text message, baby.”
I blinked at her.
“Let’s eat.”
Before she could argue, my brother helpfully picked up his silverware and was already forking eggs into his mouth. His curiosity was evident as his brown eyes turned on me in question, and from the look he was giving me, I was going to have to tell him what the hell was going on. He didn’t interfere often, but he was protective, and when his alarm bells went off like they evidently were now that my mother had pushed me, he turned on the inherited bloodhound gene. Something I’d been hoping to avoid.
Unable to stop her boy from eating, my mom finally let it go. Ashleigh was the icing on the cake. She regaled us all with her play by play of Frozen, easing us into the familiar zone that finally calmed me down enough to swallow the food I was forcing myself to eat. The routine of our Saturday morning was just what I’d needed. I was almost able to forget the rest of the world... until my phone started the long buzz of an incoming call in my pocket.
I didn’t look at it.
I didn’t even register it so no one would know the damn thing was ringing, but my mom watched me across the island like I’d slammed my hand on a foghorn, her soft smile of encouragement confirming what I already understood. I couldn’t ignore this much longer. Even if I didn’t want to speak to Asher Morris, I would have to give him the courtesy of informing him that I wasn’t willing to meet or speak with him.
Now, all I had to do is determine what I wanted to do and whether I had the strength to do what was right.
It took me a run, a long hot bath, and twenty minutes of cleaning my closet before I was finally in the frame of mind to unlock my phone. I read the other messages first. Two were from the mom group I was a part of, talking about a group outing to one of the nature trails and how much mosquito repellant we considered too much. I had one from Kammie asking me how I was feeling this morning because I’d looked so pale when I’d rejoined her on the balcony. Then there were the two from Asher.
I procrastinated for another five minutes, adding his name and number to my list of contacts, and deleting and reapplying his name a half dozen times before dropping my phone in my lap and growling. I felt like a teenager again.
Asher had been the first Dom I’d met once I’d joined and worked my way through the Gatlinburg’s introductory program. He’d attracted my eye immediately. He was tall and had a presence about him. I’d watched him for three nights before he’d caught me and approached to talk. His voice had been liquid sex, deep, smoky, and accented with that Tennessee twang. He’d been twenty-eight when I’d met him, and he’d known that, at twenty-one, I was a novice, and so he’d taken me under his wing.
I’d been helpless against his charm. My admiration and lust soon twisting into a love I couldn’t contain. A love he had cherished and nurtured. A love he’d once reciprocated.
Glancing down at my phone again, I drew in a deep breath and finally opened the messages from him.
It’s Asher. You need to call me. I want to talk to you. Last night you ran away. Again!
I’ve known you were in New Orleans for a while, and I’ve had your number for months, but I didn’t want to do this over the phone. We need to talk. Like I said last night, I think I’m owed an explanation for what happened in Gatlinburg. Please respond, Shauna.
My heart was pounding painfully in my chest as I read it four more times, the words still not sinking in. The second message was just what it was. The quick, it’s me, can I call you falling to the wayside. I was still staring at his words when the screen flickered, and his nam
e came up on the screen again as an incoming call.
I hadn’t expected it and felt like I was holding a hot potato as I juggled it from hand to hand, attempting to make a split-second decision.
I did, and before I could chicken out, I answered.
“Hello?” I hated how timid I sounded even to myself.
“Shauna.” He said my name in a clipped tone, but the accent and hint of smoky tones were still there. I ignored how much it affected me. After all these years, that seemed unfair.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
There was a pause on the line, the subtle hints of his breathing the only thing telling me he was there. I waited for him to speak, but the words never came.
“What do you want, Asher?”
“A conversation.”
“Isn’t that what we’re attempting to do now?”
“Not over the phone. Will you meet me for coffee?”
This time it was me who paused with discomfort. I still hadn’t found the answer to that question after hours of it being stuck in my craw. Conflicted was the only emotion that washed through me when I let my mind wander to Asher Morris, and that was only upgraded after I’d seen him the night before. Before then, I rarely thought about him unless I had a moment of weakness or felt sorry for myself.
“Do you really want to have this conversation over the phone?”
“I’m not sure I want to have this conversation at all.” I sighed in defeat.
“That’s not fair.”
“I know.” I fell back against my bed, bouncing on the mattress as I stared at the alternating sun and shadows dancing across my ceiling from the blinds. “I know.” I paused again. “Meet me at Louis Armstrong Park at the arch in an hour.”
“Thank you.”
I grunted out goodbye and hung up the phone, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. Fear and uncertainty made terrible bedfellows inside of me.
I arrived early. The day was hot and humid. Even in shorts and a tank top, I felt overdressed. The loose tendrils that had fallen from my messy bun while I’d paced were sticking to my sweat-dampened shoulders, making me feel more uncomfortable the longer I waited. I’d convinced myself to leave if he wasn’t there within ten minutes of the hour I’d given him to meet me. I’d talked myself in and out of being there a hundred times or more since I’d hung up the phone.