Chapter Twenty
Asher
Once I started talking, it was like I couldn’t stop.
Maybe it was the hot chocolate Franklin made me. Or the fact that I asked Rory to pour a little whiskey in the mug. Or maybe it was just that I was sitting there, on the old couch in their living room, with Franklin and Rory across from me and listening.
“It’s my friend,” I said. “He’s in town…” I shook my head hard, uncertain how to start, but full of the need to speak. “We were out last night, and a car was chasing us. He’s mixed up in some bad things. I was driving, and the car was bumping into us and flashing its lights, and so I swerved and crashed to get away.”
I sucked in a breath, and the sound of crashing metal screeched through my ears. Franklin and Rory both got up and joined me on the couch. Whatever expression flashed across my face must have been fucked up enough to really scare them, but the second they touched me, I was able to talk again.
“I ran away,” I said, blood rushing to my ears. I felt hot with shame to say it, but it was true. “I knew the other guys wanted to hurt us, and even though they crashed hard, I ran instead of making sure they were okay. The police were coming, and my friend had something in the car. I don’t know what it was, but…” I hated saying it, but for some reason, I needed them to hear. I needed them to know the truth. “I was scared, and I ran, just like I always do.”
“Did you hear from your friend?” Rory asked. Concern clouded his face, and the way he wrinkled his brow at me, I felt like breaking down in tears again. I didn’t want to disappoint him and Franklin. I couldn’t handle it if they stopped looking at me like they were on my side.
“I was too worried to call the police this morning,” I said. “I don’t know if they’re looking for me.” I bit down on my tongue, then spat out the words. “I left Los Angeles because I was driving a job for this friend and someone shot a gun at us. I don’t know if it’s the same people.”
Franklin tightened his hand on my shoulder, and Rory grabbed my knee. They both held me still.
For just a minute, I thought I could hear whatever was passing between them. I felt like I could speak their private language and read their eyes.
It felt like they were deciding if they believed in me.
I sucked in a breath, then choked it out. It pained me how much I needed them, how the only part of me that felt good and safe was the part of me they held in their hands.
“Asher,” Franklin said. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
“And so thankful you’re okay,” Rory added. He pressed his hand against my cheek and rubbed his thumb down along my jaw in a rough line. “That sounds horrible, Asher. And terrifying.”
I shook my head, pulling away from the hand I didn’t deserve. “I ran,” I said. “I didn’t try to help, I just ran.” My heart iced over. “Someone could have died.”
“Asher, Asher, Asher,” Franklin said, stroking my cheek.
“You did what you had to do,” Rory said. “You kept yourself safe, and that’s what’s important. Those were dangerous men, and you needed to get away from them. We can help you figure out the rest.”
Relief washed over me. I sucked in another breath, and the scent of their house filled my nose. Old books, Rory’s body wash, candles. I held it in as long as I could, letting it seep into my lungs, become a part of me.
The truth was, they couldn’t help. If things were bad, no one could help. I’d seen it before, and I knew it better than they ever would. But the fact that they cared…
I wanted them to believe in me so bad, the deepest, darkest parts of my body ached with need.
I wiped my eyes and cleared the few tears that had leaked out. “I just need to find Daryl,” I said. “Once I track him down, I can figure out the truth, and I’ll know what I need to do.” I looked up, glancing between their faces. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. That I had this past. I’m sorry I brought this into your life…” I gestured toward the house, trying to indicate what I was talking about without having to use the words.
Ava. Family. Home.
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
Rory clicked his tongue, the same as Franklin did sometimes. “The only things you’ve brought into our life have been good,” he said. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
“And you don’t have to apologize for your past,” Franklin added. “You told us you gave up whatever you were doing back in Los Angeles, isn’t that right?”
I nodded.
“You didn’t know that your friend had something in the car last night?” Rory asked.
I shook my head again. “But it doesn’t matter. I never knew what was in the car. He pulled me into this game a long time ago, when I dropped out of college, just like my parents said I would. He offered me a lot of money when I didn’t have any other work and kept me in the dark about what we were doing for the longest time.” I cursed under my breath, knowing that none of it mattered now. “I’m fucked up because when I did find out, I stuck around. I got addicted to that high, and I kept hearing my father’s voice, telling me I wasn’t good for anything, roughing me up whenever I did something wrong.” I gritted my teeth. “The point isn’t whether I tried to do anything wrong. I just ended up fucking things up anyway.”
Rory took my face in his hands, his fingers pressing lightly along the line of my jaw as he turned me to meet his eyes. His stare grabbed me by the balls, and it was like the rest of the world disappeared when he talked.
