by M.A. Stacie
She stared at him over the roof of the car, agreeing to his request.
“Can we not mention before? I just—”
“You don’t need to explain. I get it.” A huge smile stretched across her face as she reached her arm over the top of the car. “Hi, my name’s Emma. Thanks for offering me the ride home. You saved me from possible lock and key hell.”
After shaking her hand, his mood lightened. “It’s a pleasure. Now climb in and direct me where I’m going.”
Her laughter dispersed the remaining anxiety, but his mind still raced with a thousand reasons why he shouldn’t be doing this. He took a few seconds, gathering his thoughts while she buckled herself into his car.
“Dumb,” he muttered into the wind. “You are one dumb shit, Asher Harris.”
Emma was frowning toward him when he eventually climbed into the car. It caused him to him blush, knowing she’d heard his self-chastisement. Choosing to ignore her questioning glance, he started the engine and pulled away from the pavement. She didn’t speak, didn’t offer him directions of where he should take her, leaving him with no option. He needed to reopen the communication between them.
He coughed, calculating what to say but when he came up blank he turned on the radio instead.
“Ouch.” Emma winced as a heavy drum beat and screeching guitars filled the car.
Apologizing, Asher reached for the volume control, easing it down until it was barely audible.
“I suppose I don’t need to ask you how you like your music. Hard and loud, right?”
“Definitely.”
“I’ve never really listened to anything like that before. I mean, it’s played in a few clubs I’ve been in but it’s the softer, more commercial side of things. That was kind of…aggressive.”
Turning the wheel, Asher huffed. “If you’re not used to it, yeah, it is. Would you believe it helps me think?”
“No. No, I wouldn’t. How on earth can you think when your brain is bleeding out of your ears?”
There she went, making him laugh again. It freaked him out. “Well then, before it seeps out completely can you clue me in as to where I’m taking you? Or would you like me to drive around for the remainder of the night?”
Emma swivelled her hips in her seat, facing him as much as she could. He was distracted by the flash of milky thigh, his interest sparking his crotch into life. She looked shyly up at him, her cheeks flushing pink as she toyed with the hem of her borrowed dress.
“I was wondering…I…You don’t have to but—”
“Spit it out, Emma. I don’t bite. Often.”
“Would you like to go for a drink somewhere? It doesn’t have to be alcohol. I think we’ve seen enough idiots doing exactly that tonight. Maybe a coffee?”
He opened his mouth to speak but she beat him to it.
“I won’t be offended if you don’t want to. I just wondered.”
There were so many reasons he should decline, reasons he was certain she’d understand. There would be no need for a long explanation either, Emma would simply know because she’d seen it all. The denial was there, right on the tip of his tongue. The words just refused to form. Could he really sit and face his past for another couple of hours without it being too much for him? And would Emma understand that he honestly wasn’t ready to have any real discussion about that time in their lives?
Instead of denying her request, he opted for asking, “Where?”
“Um, what about the coffee shop on the high street?”
Asher winced. “I seem to recall you warning me off the drinks in that place. The hot chocolate at least.”
Her eyes grew wide as she comprehended what she’d told him to do. “I’m sorry.” She touched his bicep. “I never gave it a thought.”
“You’ve no reason to. Don’t worry about it, but I’d prefer to go somewhere else, if you don’t mind?”
“I understand. If you keep heading down past the coffee house there’s a whole host of fast food places that we could try.”
Hovering at the traffic lights, he turned to meet her gaze and was hit by the concern she projected. Her brows drew slightly together, causing a small crease to form between them, and her lips pursed. His heart pounded in response, caution and excitement warring within him until his head spun.
“That would be okay. I could use a top up,” he said, offering her a small grin and rubbing his stomach.
“Yeah, because I can see you really overdo yourself. You’ve got some belly on you there,” she replied sarcastically.
For a split second he enjoyed the way her eyes roamed his torso. It had been a while since he’d allowed the kind of closeness that lasted for more than a quick fifteen minute fumble.
“Lifting all those books keeps me fit. Well, that and some running.”
“I can see that,” she replied, her gaze drifting down his body again.
A car horn blared, both of them jumping in response. Asher floored the accelerator a bit too hard, lurching the car forward rather than pulling away smoothly. Emma gripped the dashboard to brace herself, mumbling an apology he didn’t understand.
“Pardon?” he asked when he’d gained control of the car. He wasn’t as lucky with controlling his body’s reaction to her though.
“It was my fault you weren’t concentrating. I should know better than distract you while you’re driving. Sorry.”
“You weren’t distracting me. We were talking.”
Clicking on the indicator, he turned the car to the right, already seeing the flashing signs for the approaching fast food restaurants. Emma said nothing further until he’d parked the car outside one of them and they were ready to walk inside.
Asher looked to the ground, kicking a stone with the toe of his boot. His hands were shoved firmly into the front pockets of his jeans as his anxiety started to return. “Is this one okay for you? I picked the first one, but we could easily walk to the next one, if you prefer.”
Surprising him, she came closer, linking her arm through his and tugging a little. “You’re so amusing. I’m fine as long as it’s real caffeine, not that decaf nonsense.”
“Oh.”
Tugging again, she said, “Come on, you said you were hungry and I wouldn’t want you passing out on me.”
His arm warmed to her touch, the sensation not unpleasant as it usually was when people got too close to him. Tonight was turning out to be the most bizarre he’d had in an extremely long time.
“So, are you intent on spending the rest of the night shoe gazing, or are you going to look me in the eyes when you talk to me?”
Shocked by her question, his head shot up, and his brown eyes meeting her blue ones.
“That got your attention,” she added, grinning as she opened the door and almost dragged him inside. “Go and find us a seat. I’ll get you some food.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Why? Can’t a woman buy a man food in your world?”
Her response was tight, her spine snapping straight as she stared him defiantly. Asher raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa, calm down. I was thinking maybe you wanted to check your dress in the bathroom. I really wasn’t intending to offend you, Emma.”
Her cheeks bloomed with embarrassment and she closed her eyes for an instant as her shoulders sagged. “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry. I have this thing…um, my dad—”
“No need to explain.” Asher cupped her elbow, moving them out of another couple’s way. “Go and check your dress, and I’ll get you a real coffee.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you sure that’s all you want?”
Emma offered him a short nod, turning and hurrying in the direction of the bathroom. He could now see, in the light of the restaurant, that her dress wasn’t soiled very much. She could clean it easily, even though the sheer fabric was so light in colour.
Asher wondered why he even cared whether her dress could be salvaged or not as he stalked over to the counter, shaking his head. He quickly bro
wsed the brightly lit menu, his stomach growling in response. The smell of the greasy burgers and fries only made his hunger increase. He should have eaten before leaving for the party with Ben, however, he’d been far too nervous to try and keep anything down.
He snorted a little too loudly, unable to believe that he’d worked himself up about going to a silly lock and key party. Yet here he was, spending time with a woman he hadn’t seen in ten years. His head was scrambled.
When the girl behind the counter asked him for the second time what she could get him, he ordered without giving it further consideration. In fact, when he sat down in a corner booth he couldn’t recall what was in the paper wrappers. The only item he could be certain of was the large fries that sat enticingly in their cardboard container. He popped one into his mouth, the salty tang lighting up his taste buds at the exact moment Emma returned.
“Does it look like I wet myself?”
Asher choked. The potato strip lodging itself in his throat. Coughing, he hoped to shift it but it only made his eyes water and his throat sore. Emma worriedly handed him the large fizzy drink, placing the straw at his lips.
“Sip it.” She patted his back.
He took a careful sip, feeling the liquid begin to soothe his raw throat. Encouraged, he sucked again, breathing a sigh of relief when he swallowed the fry. He coughed a few more times, shifting so that she could sit down next to him.
“Good job I came back when I did,” Emma said, reaching across to steal one of the offending greasy sticks.
Asher nodded, pushing her paper cup of coffee toward her. When he spoke his voice was scratchy. “Coffee,” was all he managed.
He took his time, sipping his drink and chewing slowly on the food. Emma was watching him, adding short comments here and there.
“Why would you have looked like you wet yourself?” Asher finally asked, still feeling rather foolish.
Emma shrugged, stealing another of his fries. Why did women always do that? They never wanted food, and yet they’d happily eat his. He’d have bought her some if she was hungry.
“I wiped the back of the dress but the damn hand dryer was broken, so now I have a large wet patch on my arse.”
“Could be worse. You could have nearly choked to death in a fast food joint.” He raised a brow and smirked at her.
She giggled. “True, but it’s not like it’s really busy in here. I’d still check You Tube when you get home. You never know who’s recording you on their phone.”
They both burst into laughter, her comment lifting his mood. After that the conversation flowed freely, each of them staying away from the subject of Asher’s past. They stuck to safer topics, his bookstore, her volunteering at the youth shelter, along with their friends, Ben and Meagan. It was a miracle to him how easily he could talk to her as he’d never imagined he could be this calm with someone who knew the teenage him. He tried his best to avoid that kind of interaction. However, this was different. If he didn’t acknowledge that part of him and just talked to Emma, then he was good and it seemed Emma was more than happy to set that aside.
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.”