Asher

“Are you sure, man?” I ask for the third time since Dash insisted I stay with him as we walk into his house. Being here again is the last thing I thought would happen tonight. Ever since I got back into town, I’ve managed to avoid this place like the fucking plague. This house and the people in it were the only good part about my life growing up. But after the younger Vale sibling betrayed me in the worst way, I lost that, too.

I stopped by my old house exactly once. I was greeted by my father in an alcohol-induced slumber in his old, tattered recliner. A cigarette dangled from his fingertips, dangerously close to burning the house down. I walked out before he even knew I was there.

“I told you, my parents are living in SoCal now. It’s just Briar and me, and you know she won’t mind.”

I wouldn’t be so sure about that.

I’m a bastard for what I did that night—for what I thought about doing every night for months before then. I know this. But I also don’t plan to come clean any time soon. Briar fucked me over real good. Maybe that’s what I deserved for hooking up with my best friend’s little sister, but either way, I’ll never make that mistake again. And as far as I’m concerned, Briar Vale is nothing more than a bad memory.

I shouldn’t fucking stay here. I should keep paying eighty-eight bucks at the roach-infested motel down the street. I should go kick my pops’ old dying ass out of the house and stay there. I should do anything but stay in this house again. Yet, here I am, sharing space with my old best friend and his little backstabbing sister. Because I’m a goddamn masochist.

After digging myself out of the mess Briar got me into, I made a life for myself. I met some good people—a guy named Dare who took me under his wing. I worked on roofs with him during the summer and did snow removal in the winter. Eventually, he finally took the plunge and opened up the tattoo shop he’d been talking about for years, so I unofficially took over the roofing business. I’d put Cactus Heights—and everyone in it—behind me in exchange for four seasons and hard work.

I swore I’d never come back. There was nothing left for me here, with a deceased mother and a father who only saw me as the reason she died. Then, I got the call that my dad was in the hospital. Liver failure. I didn’t know what I expected to feel. Maybe nothing at all. Surprisingly, I felt a twinge of…something. Something I still haven’t identified. Guilt? Fuck that. I’m not the one who drank to the point of trying to provoke my kid into a fistfight and blacking out—in that order—night after night. Obligation? Probably.

I’m stuck in my own thoughts as I follow Dash down the lit pathway leading up to the house, when something colorful catches my eye. The sight of those damn succulents—the one with the fleshy purple and bluish leaves—has a bitter laugh slipping out of my mouth. If I’d only known how alike Briar and those pointy-tipped succulents were back then. Both deceptively beautiful and innocent, but full of hidden, dangerous needles when given a closer look.

Once we’re inside the house, the smell hits me like a ton of bricks—like cinnamon and fresh laundry—and I pinch the bridge of my nose to fight off the onslaught of buried memories that rush to the surface. Memories of a young Briar tending to my wounds with her usually plump lips flattened into a hard line and her eyebrows creased with concern. Memories of stealing her first kiss in Dash’s room and hating myself for it afterward. Memories of having dinner with the whole family and staring at a piece of corn on the cob like it was from another planet. My family had corn out of a can. I didn’t know what to do with that shit. Briar noticed my hesitation, reached over and grabbed the corn, breaking off the leaves and silky strands. She disposed of them before handing my plate back with a soft smile. She didn’t make a big production out of it, and I doubt anyone else even noticed. But that was Briar for you. A tiny little girl with a heart too goddamn big for her body. But then she grew up to be just like the rest of the entitled assholes of Cactus Heights, Arizona.

“You can take the media room. I’d offer you my parents’ bed, but, that’s fucking gross,” Dash says, shuddering. “And the guest rooms are more of an office and an exercise room, so they don’t have any furniture.”

“That’s cool with me. Anything’s better than the bed at the motel.” I didn’t come from a life of luxury. I don’t need the finer things in life, but that shit was grimy as hell and I had at least six springs jabbing into me at any given time during the night. I’d gladly take their cushy couch. If it was the same one from when I was around, it’s more comfortable than anything I’ve ever owned.

We toss a few back in the kitchen, catching up, but not really going into detail of the past couple of years. It’s the elephant in the room, but I’m not ready for that talk. He’s not ready. Not for the reality of what happened and where I went. Not for finding out that his precious baby sister was the reason for it all.

I didn’t say a word when I left, not to Briar and not to Dash. At first, I wasn’t sure if he was in on it, too. Once I was able to think rationally, I realized that Dash probably had nothing to do with it. He would’ve tried to fight me if he knew about Briar and me.

Briar was like this little naïve angel. Always trying to help everyone and fix everything. She felt everyone’s pain as if it were her own. I couldn’t fault her for that, even if I didn’t understand it. In fact, I envied her ability to feel so much, when I could barely feel at all. Not unless she was around, anyway. Briar loved with her whole heart. And somehow, she thought someone like me was worthy of being on the receiving end of that love. I don’t mean romantic love. She was just a kid. But in the way you love your family, or a stray dog, more accurately in my case.

But for what she did that night? All because she had a bruised ego? That, I could fault her for. And I’ll continue to do so.

It all happened because of a kiss...

“I can see your wheels spinning, Kelley. I don’t know what the fuck happened, and I’m not gonna lie and say that I wasn’t pissed that you left without saying shit. You crushed my sister,” Dash starts, and my eyes snap to his. What the fuck?

“You were like another brother to her,” he continues, and I exhale in relief as I realize he still doesn’t know anything. “When I was too busy fucking off and getting laid, you were here, hanging out with her. She didn’t handle it well when you left. She cried for weeks, man. Weeks.”

I can feel my anger rising with every word. She is the victim in all of this? Give me a fucking break. If anything, it was her guilt keeping her awake. Not my absence. I squeeze the bottle of IPA so tightly that my knuckles turn white. But I don’t say a word.

“Anyway, my point is, I know some shit went down. But you’re my brother. You’re always welcome here. And once you’re ready to talk about where you went, I’m here.”

I give a short nod, acknowledging him, and down the rest of my beer.

“Appreciate it.” And I do. But I don’t have anything else to say right now.

“All right, I said my piece.” Dash tosses his empty bottle into the trash, and it clanks against the others. “I’m going to pass out. You remember where everything is?”

I tell him that I do—I practically lived here before—and he doesn’t waste any time going to his room. I sit for another minute, collecting my thoughts, trying to figure out exactly how I got here. I press the heel of my palms into my eyes, suddenly exhausted.

I head toward the opposite side of the house and grab a throw blanket out of the closet on the way. I pass Briar’s door and pause. She’s in there, right now. Oblivious to my presence. I have the urge to take a peek. Just one, little peek. But I shake my head and continue to my temporary living quarters. Once I get closer, I see the TV flickering, casting a light show on the walls. The door is open, and right before I throw my blanket onto the couch, I see it. A tiny blonde form curled up into a ball on her side.

Briar.

She’s still in her clothes from earlier. Her shorts have ridden up even further, exposing her long, tanned legs. Her cheek is all smushed from resting on her palm, making her look even younger, and her pouty lips are parted slightly. She still looks like a goddamn angel—even in sleep—but she’s the devil in disguise.

I didn’t expect to see her at The Tracks tonight. I used to go there when I needed to be alone or to drink myself into oblivion. That’s what I planned to do tonight. In a moment of temporary insanity, I called Dash to meet me. He knew I was back and had been asking to hang out, but I kept blowing him off. I figured The Tracks were neutral ground. I just didn’t know it had turned into the chill spot for the whole damn high school.

When that douchebag walked in with Briar slung over his shoulder and his hand gripping her ass, I saw red. I don’t want her, but that doesn’t mean I want anyone else to have her, either. I’ve never been very good at sharing. Chalk it up to being an only child.

I watched her for a few minutes before she noticed me. She was laughing and talking with her friends. There was a sadness in her eyes that never used to be there, and I wondered if that had anything to do with me.

Three years doesn’t seem like a long time, but it made a world of difference for Briar. She has tits now, for one. Nice, perky handfuls and an hourglass figure to match. She’s always been beautiful, but grown-up Briar is straight-up lethal.

For some reason that I don’t even pretend to understand, I take a seat on the opposite end of the L-shaped couch. I have a perfect view of her from where I sit. I glance at the TV, and I almost laugh when I see what she was watching. Tombstone. How this movie is anyone’s favorite, let alone a teenage girl’s, I’ll never know.

I reach for the remote on the coffee table and start the DVD over again. I don’t really watch the movie. I mostly watch her. She sleeps so peacefully. Her chest rising and falling in a soothing rhythm, softly snoring, and I realize that I hate her in this moment. Why should she get to sleep so soundly after what she did? I’ve had three years of sleepless nights.

I’m still sitting here stewing in my resentment when she starts to stir. She hitches a leg up, exposing the bottom of her ass cheek, and stretches her arms out with a yawn. I don’t make a move, blending into the darkness. She sits up and blindly feels around for her phone. She glances at it and sets it back down onto the table. She stands, her fingers going to her shorts, unbuttoning them and letting them drop to the floor. The light from her phone illuminates her, and I can make out the curve of her ass in a dark-colored thong. She tugs her long, blonde hair out of her hair tie and it spills down to the middle of her back in waves.

I want to wrap that golden hair around my fist and smash my lips into hers. Make her pay for what she did as I fuck her punishingly from behind.

“My, my. You sure have grown.”

* * *

Briar

I wake up groggy and disoriented. The movie is playing, and I think to myself how weird it is that it’s still going. I know I was past this part, and I feel like I’ve been sleeping for a while. I check the time. Two A.M.

Suddenly, I’m all too aware of my too-tight shorts cutting into my hip. I stand up and wrench them down, then let my heavy hair free from my ponytail, fully intending on passing back out in here. But then a sense of awareness prickles over my body from head to toe. Like I’m being watched. It’s the same way I used to feel when I fantasized about Asher watching me in bed or in the shower, even when I was too young to have those kinds of thoughts. I shrug the feeling off. Asher just got back, and he’s already fucking with my head. That’s all it is.

“My, my. You sure have grown.”

I yelp, just as a hand covers my mouth to muffle my screams.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re going to wake your brother,” the voice that I now realize belongs to Asher says in a low growl.

“Good! What the hell are you doing here?” My traitorous heart is slamming against my ribs as if trying to throw itself at Asher. Like it knows it belongs to him. Not anymore. I take a step away from his shadowed figure.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m your new roommate, baby girl.”

No. No. What?

I’m already shaking my head. This isn’t possible. He doesn’t just get to show back up after three years and invade my space. I’ve waited for this day. God, I’ve fucking died waiting for this day to come. But this isn’t how I imagined it. Not even a little bit. And, I’m not a lovesick kid anymore. At least that’s what I tell myself.

Asher’s eyes drift down to my legs, and a smirk tugs at his lips, reminding me that I’m standing here without pants. I sit down on the couch, quickly snatching the blanket and pulling it over my lap.

“A little privacy?” I snap.

“Oh, look who grew a backbone along with those other…assets.” He makes a show of scanning my body from head to toe, and my face heats with embarrassment. I know why I’m bitter and angry, but where is his anger coming from? Asher has always used his sharp tongue as a weapon, but I wasn’t ever on the receiving end of it. In fact, I always got the impression that he purposely shielded me from that side of him.

Guess the kid gloves are off.

“What happened to you?” I say it more to myself, but he hears it, because he balls his fists at his side and his eyes narrow.

“I don’t know, Briar. What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know! That’s why I’m asking!” I whisper-yell, bending over to retrieve my discarded shorts and pulling them back over my legs under the covers.

Asher shakes his head, and I get the feeling that I’ve disappointed him. But that’s impossible. He’s been back for three whole seconds. I haven’t had a chance to let him down.

“It’s late,” he finally says, his wall slamming back in place, more impenetrable than Fort Knox. He plops down on the couch and crosses his arms behind his head, like he owns the place. “Do you mind?”

“Unbelievable.” I bunch my blanket up in my arms with a huff and grab the rest of my stuff. Too drained and confused to keep arguing, I take one last searching look into those soulless eyes before turning around and leaving without another word.

* * *

The sun beats down on me through my window, and I smother my face with a pillow, making a mental note to buy blackout curtains. I don’t think I slept for more than a few minutes at a time. I tossed and turned all night, alternating between irritation and concern for Asher. Once the initial anger cooled, I started wondering what could’ve happened to cause the chill in his demeanor.

Dash’s words from last night about Asher belatedly echo in my head. Maybe I should’ve been more understanding. I still can’t believe he’s here. In my house. Like nothing ever happened. But he’s not Ash. Not the one I used to know.

My phone buzzes from my nightstand, and I pick it up to see a text from my brother.

Dash: Asher’s staying here for a while. Just a heads-up.

A little late for that.

Me: Do Mom and Dad know?

Dash: No. And we’re going to keep it that way.

Me: Don’t I get a say in this?

Dash: No. He’s family. He needs us, whether he wants to admit it or not.

I sigh and roll out of bed, needing to at least make a coffee run before I can have this conversation, but I decide that a shower is more important. Shower first. Coffee later.

After stripping down, I snag the towel off the hook on the back of my door, wrap it around me, and stumble my way down the hall. I’m rubbing the sleep out of my eye with the palm of my hand when I twist the knob to the bathroom door. It takes a second for my vision to adjust, but when it does, I see Asher. Naked. Standing over the toilet with his left hand braced against the wall, and his right hand… His right hand is wrapped around his length.

I can’t look away. God, he looks so different now. He’s broader, taller, more muscular. If I thought he looked like a man three years ago, he’s a god now. My eyes are glued to the way he works himself, the veins in his arms, the thickness of him. Something shiny catches my eye, and I gulp when I realize it’s a piercing.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?”

My wide eyes snap up to his, and I feel my ears heat with shame. His challenging stare matches the unapologetic tone of his voice, and he continues to pump his length. I can’t apologize. I can’t even form a response. I’m unable to do anything but gawk at the sight before me. My teeth bite into my bottom lip, and I feel my nipples harden against my towel. Asher grunts, bringing my attention back to his face, and he’s staring right at my mouth.

“If you’re going to watch, lose the towel.”

Without thinking twice, I step inside the door and close it behind me. His eyes widen, just a little, as if surprised that I’m playing along to his game instead of running away. He’s not the only one. I don’t know why I’m still standing here.

We’re both in some kind of trance. The only sounds are those of our quickening breaths and the wet noises coming from his palm. I smell a familiar scent of vanilla and fruit right before I spot my Pink Sugar Plum conditioner on the granite sink next to him. His fist moves faster when he sees that I notice.

“You’re going to smell like me.” I don’t know why those are the first words that come to mind. Why does the thought of him using my conditioner set a fire inside me? I’m not normal. I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve never experienced such an erotic moment, and he hasn’t even touched me. I want to drop my towel and beg him to give me more of that feeling I only ever got a taste of. The feeling that only he’s ever been able to give me. But I won’t. I threw myself at him once, and I still haven’t recovered from the fall. I refuse to be that girl, content to survive on whatever scraps of attention he throws my way when it suits him.

Still, I can’t bring myself to look away—to walk away. I feel like he’s daring me to see this through, and I have some need to prove to him that I’m not a little girl anymore. The naïve Briar with stars in her eyes is long gone. He made sure of that.

I try to discreetly press my legs together to smother the throbbing between my thighs, but Asher notices. Of course, he does. His head falls back slightly, like it’s too much effort to hold it up, but his eyes are still locked on mine. Mine, however, start to wander. To his full lips and sharp jaw, his chest that’s damp with sweat, the cut lines of his lower stomach, and finally, to what’s in his hand, looking angry and impossibly hard. I notice his piercing again, and ever the petulant child, wonder when he got it and how many other girls have seen it. I hate all of them.

“Stop giving me that look before I give you something to pout about.”

I reach behind me to open the door and leave. I shouldn’t be here. This shouldn’t be happening, especially not with my brother somewhere in the house. But Asher shakes his head, pinning me in place. I immediately obey his unspoken request without a second thought, and I mentally kick myself for it.

Asher must literally get off on his control over me, because then he’s coming in thick, white spurts into the toilet. His muscles tighten and his body tenses, but he looks at me, still taunting, still daring me to look away with his bored stare.

I swallow hard, but instead of leaving, I put one shaky leg in front of the other and force myself to walk right past him to the shower. Like what happened was no big deal. Like I didn’t just watch Asher Kelley jerk himself off. Like it wasn’t the most glorious thing I’ve ever witnessed.

Once I’m in, I toss my towel over the frosty glass door and turn the shower on. The hot water beats down on my chest, only intensifying the ache between my legs. I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for Asher to make his move. Long seconds pass, and it feels more like hours, but then I hear the toilet flush, and the door slams shut a moment later.

What the hell just happened?

* * *

My stomach growls as I pretend to be doing something super important on my laptop at Starbucks, reminding me that I didn’t have time to scarf anything down earlier in my haste to get out of there. I’m hiding out, because Natalia probably hasn’t even rolled out of bed yet, and I needed to be somewhere other than my house.

After relieving the ache that Asher created in the shower, I threw on a pair of holey jeans and a white tank top and slapped on some makeup, all the while nervous that Asher was going to show his face again. He didn’t thankfully, but I was still unnerved by what transpired in the bathroom. I couldn’t focus on anything knowing he could be lurking around every corner of the house, but he was nowhere to be found.

Even when my favorite barista, Matt, tried to make small talk, I was still unable to focus on anything but the sight of naked Asher pleasuring himself with my conditioner. And the way he looked at me, completely unaffected and unapologetic.

Tossing my empty cup, I make my way toward the parking lot, skidding to a stop when someone blocks my path, only to find Jackson smiling down on me.

“Hey, what’s up? I didn’t get to say goodbye to you last night, and I tried to call, but your phone went straight to voicemail.”

Oh my God. I forgot about Jackson. And I don’t mean about last night… I mean, I literally forgot he existed. Ash’s been back in my life for less than twenty-four hours, and, like a solar eclipse, he’s already casting his shadow upon everything and everyone else. It’s exciting at first. You feel like you’re a part of something that doesn’t happen every day. And maybe you’re tempted to stay in the shadows. But then you realize that you need the sun. You can’t survive in darkness alone.

“Briar?” Jackson’s concerned hazel eyes assess me.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, my phone died. Sorry.”

“It’s cool.”

I give him a polite smile and move to step around him, but he stops me with a hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, so wait,” he says, dropping his hand and stuffing both into the pockets of his jeans. “Let’s go out. Like, just the two of us.”

“You mean, like a date?” I ask dumbly. No, Einstein, he wants to take you to Bible study. Of course, he means a date.

“Yeah, like a date,” he says with a cocky smile, probably mistaking my preoccupation with Asher for shyness.

My gut instinct is to say no. But then, I realize that would be falling into old patterns and letting Asher influence every decision I make. Not this time. And I do like Jackson. I was even semi-interested before Ash came back. There’s no reason I shouldn’t give him a chance. He’s fun and sweet and hot as hell. What’s not to like? Plus, Asher has made it clear that there will never be anything between us. Why shouldn’t I move on?

“Okay.” I shrug.

“Okay?” he asks, thrown off by my short response.

“Okay,” I say, firmer this time, and go to leave again. My stomach is growling, and I need to call Natalia.

“When?” he shouts after me.

“Whenever!”

“I’ll pick you up tonight then. Six o’clock.”

Before I can open my mouth to object, or at least let him know that I’d drive separately and meet him somewhere, he gives me one of his signature smirks and saunters off.

I guess I have a date.

* * *

I pull into my driveway after a long day of avoiding home. Nat was working for her mom at her boutique, Lush, today, so I hung out there for a while. We tried to talk, but it was an abnormally busy day, so I walked around the other shops to kill some time.

My stomach does a flip when I see that Asher’s big, black truck is still in the driveway. There’s a ladder on top of it, leading me to believe it’s a work truck, but it’s nice. Really nice. He must be doing well for himself.

I’m immediately aware of his presence before I see him. I give a quick wave to my brother—who’s sitting with Asher on the couch, drinking a beer—and drop my keys onto the counter. I’m starving, so I walk straight to the freezer to grab my favorite pizza.

I prop a hand on my hip and whirl around to find the two laughing like idiots.

“I told you she’d notice, man,” Dash says, hiding his smile behind his beer bottle.

“Sorry,” Asher deadpans in a way that says I’m not even a little sorry. His dark hair is mussed up in that perfectly disheveled way only he can pull off, and his full lips are coated in pizza grease. “I was hungry, and your pizza was the only thing that sounded good.”

He narrows his eyes at me, challenging me somehow, and licks his lips.

God, why does everything he says sound suggestive to me?

“It’s fine.” I shrug, feigning ambivalence. “I have a date tonight, so I probably shouldn’t eat so close to dinnertime, anyway.” I swing open the stainless steel fridge door, grab a yogurt instead, and walk off without daring to look for his reaction, or lack thereof.

I don’t know why I said that. Just like in the bathroom this morning, I guess I just wanted him to know that I’m not still pining after him. That life moved on without him, and I’m all grown up now.

After hiding out in my room for a couple of hours and calling Nat to fill her in on everything, I finally decide to get ready for my “date”. I have no idea where Jackson might be taking me, so I opt for a black jersey dress. It has thin straps and dips low in the back, but it’s still casual enough to wear with sneakers. I throw on a pair of black Vans and a choker that my mom hates because she insists that it looks like something out of a fifty-cent machine. I leave my hair down, and it falls in thick waves to my waist.

Checking my phone, I see a missed text from Jackson.

Pulling up to your house.

I check the time stamp on the text and realize that it was sent over five minutes ago. I bounce down the steps and freeze when I see Jackson at my opened door with Dash blocking his entrance with a wide stance and crossed arms. I hear a chuckle, and my eyes snap over to Asher who is still sitting at the couch, leaned back, with his long legs stretched out, looking more than a little amused.

“You can stop now, Dashiell,” I say, rolling my eyes and coming to a stop in front of them. Asher’s laugh morphs into a choking sound, and all three of us turn to look at him with furrowed brows.

“Went down the wrong pipe,” he coughs, gesturing to his throat.

“Karma.” I laugh.

“Desperate much?” he asks, pointing his beer bottle in my direction.

“What?” I snap.

“Your dress. It’s so short that I can practically see your asshole,” Asher says, crude as always.

“Well, then, it should make it easier for you to kiss it.”

“Whatever you say, Sugar Plum,” he taunts, referring to my conditioner.

“We’re leaving,” I bite out, as heat crawls up my neck. I grab Jackson’s arm and shut the door with more force than necessary before giving him an apologetic smile. He waves me off, tells me I look pretty, and leads me to his sleek charcoal gray Mercedes. And then we’re gone.