Kiss My Ash

by Leddy Harper

  “Uh, yeah.” My throat closed and the back of my neck flushed, likely close to perspiring along my hairline. I hated lying to my dad and hoped he wouldn’t ask me anything that would make me be dishonest. As of right now, I could get away with being literal—then again, that hadn’t worked in my favor when I technically hadn’t lied to Kristy about my age. “And no, I didn’t get Emma pregnant. It’s nothing like that.”

  “Oh, so what does she want you to talk to Kristy about?”

  “She was held at gunpoint on Monday at the bank—Kristy was, I mean. Not Emma. And she’s had a tough time this week. So, Emma thought maybe I might be able to help. An intervention of sorts.”

  Dad picked up his glass and brought it to his lips, his gaze never shifting away from mine. “Yeah, I heard about the bank. I called her Tuesday morning to check on her. I think I might’ve woken her.” There was no way that could be true. “That’s sad…couldn’t have happened to a nicer person. Go ahead, I’ll be here when you’re done in case you still wanted to go over the warehouse listings.”

  The way he watched me left a knot in the pit of my stomach, though I chose to ignore it and carry on before my shame gave me away. I could get away with a lot, but after losing my father’s trust and then fighting to regain it, the idea of rocking that boat left me uneasy—especially after how much closer we’d gotten over the last month.

  I quickly and quietly left before he could ask another question or spend any more time picking apart the guilt that riddled me. My feet carried me to Kristy’s on autopilot, and as I approached the front door, Emma was on her way out.

  “Thank you, Ash. Call me if you need anything.” She stopped and grabbed my arm. “Actually, call me tonight either way. Or text. I don’t care; I just want to make sure she’s okay. And if you need me to vouch for you to your dad or anything, let me know. If you can pull my mom back to the land of the living, I’ll owe you more than I could ever repay.”

  I forced a grin to my lips and shrugged. “Technically, I’m here because you asked. But I’m doing this for her. Because I love her and can’t stand the thought of her hurting.”

  She hesitated for a moment, as if she were about to ask me something. But rather than open her mouth and speak, she dropped her gaze and bounded down the steps to the walkway. And without a backward glance, she rounded her car, opened the door, and slipped behind the wheel.

  I waited until she was out of the driveway before heading inside. Unlike Wednesday, this time, determination fueled me, rather than sympathy and an unyielding ache to offer her comfort and reassurance. While I still yearned to give her those things, we’d reached a point where kid gloves would no longer work. It was time to throw her in the deep end and watch her swim.

  Sinking wasn’t an option.

  She’d never give up.

  Luckily, she was awake when I walked into her room. She was in bed, though not lying down—the light wasn’t even off like I’d expected it to be. I found her perched on the side of the mattress with her phone in hand, and her surprised, wide eyes cast on me as I stormed in. I didn’t offer her a moment to calm down before going to her, taking her hand, and dragging her to her feet.

  “Ash! What are you doing?” Her protests became louder as we moved to the kitchen, yet she followed without resistance.

  Once we made it to the center island near the fridge, I released her hand. “Are you hungry?”

  “Not really.”

  “Would you like to eat?”

  “Uh…I just told you I wasn’t hungry.”

  I opened the fridge and hummed while searching nearly empty shelves. “Looks like our options are eggs or eggs. What are you in the mood for?”

  “Nothing. Because I don’t want to eat.”

  Nodding, I grabbed the pink carton and set it on the counter. “Good choice. Breakfast for dinner is my favorite.” I slid out the various meat drawers and vegetable crispers before closing the door with a huff. “No bacon. Sorry. But if you want it that badly, I could go to the store and get some.”

  “I don’t. Are you not hearing what I’m saying?”

  I had her on the verge of becoming irritated, which hadn’t been the reaction I had hoped for, but I wouldn’t be picky. I’d take what I could get and make the most of it. Deciding to go with it, I stepped closer and grasped the hem of her tee. “You can’t go into a store dressed like this,” I said as I stripped her of her shirt in one fell swoop.

  Kristy gasped and covered her chest, as if I hadn’t etched the details of her entire body into my memory. “What are you doing?”

  While she gawked, blinking wildly, I bent forward and lifted her over my shoulder. She no longer sat on the verge of irritation, but rather dove headfirst into it and owned it like a champion. Her growly threats and grumbled demands to set her down had put her temper more in the irate category than annoyance.

  Which was exactly where I wanted her.

  I tossed her onto the mattress, a squeal ripping from her throat as she bounced. That became a yelp the instant I grabbed the sides of her yoga pants and yanked them off, not allowing her the chance to stop me. Now, she sat before me in nothing but a pair of panties and a mask of utter outrage.

  “What in the hell are you doing, Asher?” She only used my full name when she meant to gain my attention. Well, she was damn near close to being naked…she didn’t have to say anything to get my attention.

  “We have to go to the store to get bacon. You don’t remember this conversation?” I slid open her dresser drawer filled with shorts and pulled out the pair on top. After tossing it to her, I moved on to the drawer with her undergarments, chose a bra, and then found a shirt. As I watched her clutch the outfit to her chest, I had to swallow down the need to laugh. “Hurry up, babe. We don’t have all night.”

  “I’m not going to the store, because I’m not hungry. I don’t plan to eat breakfast for dinner, so there’s no point in getting bacon. If I’m not going to the store, then I’m not getting dressed. I was just about to take a shower, anyway.”

  “Okay, fine. Have it your way. No bacon. But in case I missed it behind all the nothingness in your fridge, it didn’t look like you had any cake.”

  Her brows knitted together as her top lip curled. “Cake?”

  “Yeah. For Emma. You know…for her birthday.”

  I didn’t have to say anything else before her eyes widened, her mouth dropping open to form a perfect O. And half a second later, she flipped onto her knees, scrambling on the bed in search of something—likely, her phone—all while mumbling, “Oh my God, what day is it?”

  “Friday the twenty-sixth,” I answered for her. “Of April, in case you forgot what month it was, too. Does this mean you don’t have anything to stick candles in? Shit…do you even have candles? I guess if worse comes to worse, Emma could make a wish on one of the pillars you keep on the coffee table.”

  “Oh my God…” Her remorseful cry silenced my pestering, and it took more strength than I knew I had not to go to her. “I can’t believe I forgot her birthday. How did that happen? What kind of mother am I?”

  “The kind who’s spent the last five days locked in her room, afraid of her own shadow.”

  When she turned to find my stare, the anguish in her dark eyes leaked down her cheeks until I feared I’d have to be physically restrained in order to stay away. “Why didn’t she say anything?”

  “What was she going to say, Kris? Nothing she’s tried so far has gotten you out of bed. No matter what she’s done, she can’t get you out of the house or in real clothes. So why would she remind you?”

  “I would’ve gotten up for that,” she argued.

  “Yeah, you’re right. You would’ve. But she shouldn’t have to guilt you into it. If you want to make it right…get up. Get dressed. Get out there and eat some damn eggs without bacon. And after that, go outside. Take a walk, go to the pool, dive in. Live. Then come home and call Emma. Wish her a happy birthday. Maybe by then she’ll be done with dinner and offe
r to come home and spend time with you tonight. Butter some popcorn and share a blanket with your daughter on the couch. Put on a movie—a comedy—and actually watch it. Laugh. Feel your smile burn your cheeks; feel your abs ache as it rolls through you. Spend time with someone who makes you happy, with someone you love.”

  I closed the distance between us and brushed the stream of tears from her cheeks.

  “You’re not made of glass, babe. What happened on Monday might’ve caused a small crack in your armor, but that doesn’t mean you’ll shatter. This is the time to prove you’re unbreakable. The dents and dings and tiny fissures you’ve accumulated over the years, the ones you’ve yet to earn…they just prove you’re resilient. Now, get up, put on your clothes, and get your indestructible ass into the kitchen. You have eggs to fry.”

  I didn’t wait for a response, simply turned and walked out of her room, trusting she’d do what was right. And less than two minutes later, I was rewarded with the sight of Kristy, dressed in actual clothes, strutting into the kitchen. And with as gratifying as that was, it only made me push her harder, yearning for every single reward that would come with her will to fight.

  * * *

  It was almost nine when I finally walked through the front door. Emma had come home to stay the night, deciding to go to her dad’s in the morning. Once she got there, it was my time to leave. I’d succeeded in what Emma had asked of me, so I wasn’t needed any longer.

  Not to mention, it was far easier to play the tough guy when she wasn’t smiling or laughing, filled with the infectious contentment I’d fallen for to begin with. I wasn’t dumb enough to believe this had changed anything, so there was no point in hanging around. It would only make it hurt worse when I came crashing back to reality.

  “Hey, Dad.” I found him sitting at the kitchen table, his laptop open in front of him.

  He glanced up, took off his reading glasses, and leaned back in his chair. “How was the intervention?”

  “Successful…I hope. I mean, as long as she wasn’t pretending, then yeah, it went well.”

  His head slowly bobbed as he closed the lid to his computer, and in an instant, my stomach sank. He didn’t have to look at me or say anything…I just knew. It was in his methodical movements, restrained pace, and relaxed posture. During the year he’d stayed home while keeping me under his thumb, this was the reaction I’d dubbed Kingpin. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve bet he was a Mafia boss while he was away. He certainly had the whole “calm, cool, and collected” vibe part down. I’d never seen him break a kneecap before, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d do so with the same temperament as pouring a glass of milk.

  “So your girlfriend’s okay?” Yeah, he knew. This was his way of tripping me up. The vague questions that easily lured me into the net right before he yanked the rope, hanging me by my toes.

  “Actually, we broke up. About a month ago.”

  “Huh…that explains things.” If he thought I’d ask for clarification, he was wrong. “What happened? Why did you two split? Was it at least amicable?”

  Fuck my life. “Uh…not really. I didn’t want to, but she didn’t really have much of a choice.”

  “Did Kristy have an issue with you dating her daughter?”

  Navigating his words was harder than a Rubik’s Cube. But by now, this had turned into a game—a challenge of the minds—and I wasn’t ready to show my hand, even though he already knew what cards I held. “I’m not sure. To be honest, I never asked.”

  “So then, was it the age difference that got in the way?”

  “No…well, not for us. I’m sure some people had issues with it.”

  “Like Emma?” Check. Mate.

  It was game over. I had no more moves. Time to show my hand and admit defeat. “Yeah. She wasn’t happy about it.”

  He remained oddly calm, which worried me more. “How’d she find out?”

  “Came home early and caught us.”

  Bobbing his head again, it was clear he intended to drag this out.

  But I couldn’t hold back the need for my own questions to be answered. “How’d you find out? And when?”

  “What makes you think I haven’t always known?”

  “Because you would’ve said something by now.”

  “Not necessarily. You’re eighteen. I can’t stop you from sleeping with someone who’s of age. Not to mention, it’s not like I’m home enough to even enforce it. The way I saw it…having sex is a hell of a lot better than what you used to do—as long as you’re using protection. Which you are, right?”

  I nodded, because telling him I hadn’t—ever—would ensure my untimely death.

  “It wasn’t until tonight that I realized you had been in a full-blown relationship with her. I’ll be honest, Asher…that surprised me. But again, I can’t stop you. If she’s who you want to be with, the only thing I can do is make sure you understand what you’re getting yourself into. After that, you’re an adult. You’re about to graduate high school, move out on your own, start your own company. I can’t control who you date or how old they are.”

  “I don’t think it matters, Dad. Emma won’t ever be okay with it. Which means Kristy won’t give it another chance.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. However, in the meantime, answer me this…how many times have you been around her, spent quality time with her, while keeping your clothes on?”

  Shrugging, I answered honestly. “A lot.”

  “Okay. Have you thought about what your age difference means for having a family of your own? She’s probably approaching an age where risks become a factor. Not to mention, she already has a child—one who’s about to leave the nest. Does she even want more kids? Do you want kids?”

  This wasn’t something Kristy or I had discussed often, but it had come up a time or two. Granted, the answers were more or less brushed over, so it wasn’t like I could give him anything definitive. At least I could share with him what I’d taken from the couple of conversations we’d had. “She’s not opposed to the idea of having more kids, though she’s not set on it, either. I would like a family, yet not having children won’t break me. That’s about all I can tell you, Dad. She kept her feelings guarded for most of the relationship, so long-term factors were much more of a hypothetical than something I could hang my hat on.”

  “Fair enough. What about down the road…when she’s in her fifties and you’re in your thirties? Or you’re in your fifties and she’s in her seventies?”

  “Well, I’m assuming you’re asking about the sexual aspect of things, and to be honest with you, I can’t answer that. I don’t have enough information about what happens to our bodies and at what stages of life those things take place. But considering that’s not why I want to be with her, I don’t think it matters much. My love for her won’t change, and to me, that’s the most important part.”

  “You don’t think your feelings for her will ever change?”

  “Of course they will.” This had to be the most awkward conversation I’d ever shared with my dad. He was perpetually single. So to hear him engage me in a discussion about love and making a relationship work could almost be laughable…if he weren’t so damn serious right now. “I’m not against making an effort on a daily basis. Or working hard for something that’s worth it. I understand there will be times I’ll have to put more energy into a relationship than the other person, and I’m okay with that.”

  His gaze narrowed; however, right before the lecture I expected, he sighed and closed his eyes. Whatever had left his shoulders taut with tension vanished, until the man before me relaxed in his chair. And when he lifted his gaze, I couldn’t ignore the amazement that shone back at me.

  “How the hell did this happen? You came here as a defiant fifteen-year-old. And now, I’m looking at someone with more wisdom than guys my own age. You were an immature know-it-all. I look at you now, and I’m blown away by how grown up you are, how mature your outlook on everything is. Your drive and determination astound
me. And ironically, I wouldn’t doubt it if you actually did know it all.” He laughed, shaking his head, yet the pride in his eyes never waned.

  “And to think…you moved away after Mom and you split because you didn’t think you could raise a child into a decent man. I guess I proved you wrong. I didn’t mess up when I was younger; I staged it all, just so I could come here and have the chance to become a pretty freaking great kid.”

  “You’ve taken this compliment way too far,” he said with a laugh. But when his smile slowly faded away, I waited for what he had to say next, aware it wouldn’t be in jest. “So you’re sure a relationship with Kristy—or any other older woman—is something you’re prepared to deal with? You’ve thought about the obstacles? The toll it could take on you as a person, as well as on the relationship?”

  “Yes, Dad. But again, I don’t think anything will come of it. She’s not going to let a relationship with me come between her and Emma, and I can’t fault her for that. And while Emma may not always disapprove, by the time she changes her mind or gives in, I can’t imagine Kristy will still be single. So either way, I’ve had my time, and I have to be appreciative of what we were able to give to each other while we had the chance.”

  He rolled his eyes, his lips slowly curling at the corners. “Where were you when your mother and I were having troubles?”

  “Either on the football field or in the Batcave.” We both laughed at the reminder of the permanent fort I’d had in my room when I was young. Mom had hated it, mostly because she constantly found half-eaten sandwiches hidden inside. Dad had hated it because in order to make it stay, I had to use his tools. Only a fraction of them were ever found again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kristy

  “Emma! Wait!” I ran out of the house with her phone in the air. “You might need this.”

  She glanced at her purse, as if she could see through it, and then laughed at herself. “I’d be completely lost without that. Thanks, Mom.”