Page 66 of Burn With Me

“Derek had been protective and would get violent with my dad, but he wasn’t a natural bad guy. My father…shit…he did some evil stuff to him and…” Asher stopped again and rubbed his face.

He pushed himself up a little. I immediately moved and let him sit on the couch but tucked myself under his arm. I didn’t want him to shut down this time. We had broken down so many walls that I didn’t want them to go back up. At least not yet.

“Derek just never got over what happened to him, not that you simply get over the abuse, but he didn’t deal with it either. It just festered and turned into something dark until it twisted him into someone I no longer recognized.”

I knew what he meant. That could easily have been me after my parents had died. My parents had never abused me, but the trauma from their deaths had pulled at me and made me want to lash out. Beck had pulled me back from the brink so many times that I’d lost count.

“He began doing things that seemed harmless. He set off fireworks and lit the burn barrel we used for garbage on fire, but I didn’t understand escalation. I mean, I was eleven at the time. What the heck did I know about anything like that? He needed help, and I wish I’d seen it. I wish I’d found someone for him to talk to.”

I held onto Asher tighter, and I could feel him begin to stiffen. Before he could push me away, I kissed the side of his neck. For the first time in a very long time, I felt comfortable with someone, and I’d be damned if I was going to let that just disappear.

“I’m going to assume he only got worse?”

“Yeah, he didn’t stop. He turned into a pyro, testing out his abilities. The fires got bigger, and then, just like that, he killed.” Asher pushed himself up, and I let him go. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure why I’m telling you all this. I don’t talk about this with anyone.”

“Maybe it’s because you feel as comfortable telling me about what haunts you as I did last night when you helped me open up,” I offered, but Asher seemed more torn by that response.It was hard to read what he was thinking or feeling. The stern mask of the arrogant and dominant personality was being pulled into place, and I sighed, looking away from his eyes.

“Could be, I don’t know.” He rolled out his shoulder, and the conversation just stopped. It was like he’d turned off a switch and no longer wanted to share his past or what happened next. I badly wanted to push, but there was something about the hard look in his eyes that told me he was done talking for now.

“If you’d like me to go, I can.” I glanced at the files and preferred just to leave them.

We had a solid day to finish sorting, so I wanted to leave them here rather than packing them all up and moving them to my much smaller apartment.

“Why?” He cocked a brow, and my mouth seemed to freeze.

“Well…I…It just felt like I’d worn out my welcome. You seem…” Uncurling my legs from the couch, I stood, not really sure how to put this. “You just seem like you’d like some space.”

Asher rubbed at his chin. It was a little habit he had, but I knew right away that he was thinking about something.

“It’s not a big deal. I can come back….”

“What are you doing for Christmas?”

Shocked by the sudden change in topic, I stared at him blankly for a few moments. I swear, he just liked to keep me off kilter. “Um…I guess do what I always do? Grab some takeout, watch “Die Hard” with my cat, and go to bed. Why?”

Asher screwed up his face like he’d just eaten something disgusting. “Okay, first of all please tell me you don’t think “Die Hard” is a Christmas movie?” I opened my mouth to argue, and he held up his finger. “On second thought don’t say it, we’ll be here for hours disagreeing over that topic,” he said making me laugh. It was true, it was a conversation I’d argued with Beck about many of a time.

“You are not doing that this year. Come with me?”

This was a man that openly declared he didn’t date, didn’t bring people to his home, and most certainly didn’t introduce them to his family.

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“I want you to come to Christmas with me. I would like for you to meet my mom. Well, my foster mom. Forget the accurate titles, she’s my mom to me.” Asher stepped forward and wrapped his arms around my waist before dropping his head to kiss my lips.

Pulling back, I looked up at him, and as hard as I tried, I couldn’t make out the expression on his face. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not asking this to jinx the moment, but….”

“I know what you’re going to say, and the answer is, I’m doing something completely out of character, but you, Violet Clarke, seem to make me want to do things I normally never would. Say yes. Come to dinner with me.”

Being around Asher felt a little like I was in a “Formula One” race car, with a driver that didn’t know how to drive and was careening for a tight corner. He kept me off kilter and my head spinning as I held on for dear life.

“All right, yes. I’d like to go with you.”

“Do you have an ugly Christmas sweater?”