Three
Asher
I yawned behind the back of my hand, the IKEA wish list paper in hand.
Avery was sipping from a soda as she pointed out towels and rugs in the different displays, but I didn’t see the thrill in an area rug with crayons on it. I was letting the two of them choose what should go in their guest house because, hello—it was their family’s guest house, not mine.
If they wanted a crayon rug, they could get a crayon rug.
Porter, munching on a meatball from a container he held in his right hand, shook his head. “Way too busy, Ace,” he said, referring to the crayon rug. “She can wait on rugs.” And then he turned his attention to me, and damn my body for getting all fluttery and excited. “You can wait on rugs. The guest house has heated wood floors. You’ll be fine until you absolutely want stupid decorative rugs.”
I shrugged in response. I didn’t really care for rugs one way or another.
“What you need,” he continued, his sure stride picking up and leaving Avery and me in his dust as he wove through a few people to a bedroom set-up, “is a good bed.” He plopped down on the bed in the display. “A solid bed. If you can find matching dressers and shit, I’m sure my mom would appreciate it. This one is big and comfy.” He reached to flip the tag over. “More-gongala in hard. Good mattress.”
“If you can’t say the names, you probably shouldn’t try,” Avery teased him.
“Regardless.” He tapped the mattress beside him and lifted his brows. “It’s a good one. Come sit.”
We’d only been here for thirty minutes and I’d already sat on ten different sofas. I was ready for this trip to be over, to be completely honest, and if sitting on a bed and agreeing about a mattress would get us closer to the checkout line, I was all for it.
I walked around Avery and sat on the opposite side of the bed, my back to Porter, and shrugged. “It’s not bad.”
I felt a slight movement in the mattress and looked to my side, seeing that Porter was now lying on his back across the bed, his head near my hip. He winked up at me. “It’s good.”
I grinned and shook my head, embarrassed at how easily I smiled at him, then looked around. The bedroom set wasn’t too bad, either. A rich, dark brown wood with a matching tall dresser and a long dresser. “I’ll do this one.”
“But there’s another neat set-up down the way!” Avery exclaimed, standing in front of me now. “It’s white and it’s—”
Porter lifted his chin so he could look back at Avery, upside down. “How often do you come to IKEA, Ace?”
Avery shrugged and crossed her arms, looking away. “Every now and then.”
Porter rolled to his stomach, leaving a good foot distance between us, but then he went and scooted so he was right next to me again, his elbows in line with my ass. “When’s the last time you were here, Ace?” he asked in a placid tone.
“Last week,” she mumbled in response, making Porter chuckle.
“Get the damn white bed set for yourself.”
“I don’t have a place to put it in!”
“Get a place.”
“Ugh.” She shook her head.
“Let’s look at the white one,” I said, cutting into what I was beginning to learn could be a battle.
A funny battle, but a battle all the same.
These two fought like cats and dogs, an expression I knew, but hadn’t really experienced before this trip to IKEA. Both Avery and Porter had smartass comments for one another, slightly sarcastic remarks, and they threw the barbs at each other left and right.
It made parts of this trip enjoyable.
Like driving here and listening to Avery talk about what I assumed was Porter and an accident. She picked and picked and picked, but Porter never exploded on her. If anything, he just grinned and shook his head, letting the remarks roll over him.
I pushed to stand from the bed, but Porter’s hand connected with my hip before I stood fully.
And I froze.
I mean, completely froze.
And not necessarily in a good way.
My blood grew cold and my heart began to race.
“Jeez, Asher, are you okay?” Avery asked, concerned, stepping closer to me.
I sat back down, the panicky feeling starting to dissipate as quickly as it came on.
I shook my head. “I’m fine.”
Porter frowned up at me. “You sure?” He looked concerned.
I shook my head and forced a smile. “Just lightheaded. I’ll be fine,” I lied.
Porter still frowned at me, as if trying to get a read on me. I tried to offer a smile, but I couldn’t quite get my cheek muscles to comply. “I’m good,” I told him, before repeating it to Avery in front of me. “Let’s go look at that white set and I’ll make a decision.” I attempted to stand again, this time successfully. “Let’s do this and get it over with.”
Porter
I put my hand on her and she fucking froze.
Like, white faced, sweat on the brow, full panic froze.
What the hell was that about?
If anything, I was even more intrigued by the secrets Asher held behind her eyes.
You. Are. LEAVING.
I shook my head and followed behind Avery and Asher, whose arms were now crossed protectively in front of her.
Avery was talking her ear off about this set she loved, but Asher kept her mouth shut, offering tight smiles and nods to show she was at least listening.
While the white set was nice, I personally thought it was too feminine for someone like Asher—as if I truly knew her which, in these few hours, showed me I had a long way to go to have even an inkling of knowledge about this girl.
I knew she was an emancipated foster kid, who swore there were no ghosts in her closet.
There were ghosts, but just how bad?
I mostly kept to myself the rest of our trip. Asher ended up choosing the brown set but refused to pick out a sheet set.
I wouldn’t pick one out at IKEA either.
Avery, on the other hand, had at least four IKEA sheet sets that she loved. In the end, Avery picked out linens for the guest house while Asher just agreed, saying, over and over again, it was our family’s guest house.
Avery answered, again and again, that Asher needed to be comfortable.
All of which I agreed with, but Avery could be a pushy bastard when she wanted to be, and it was clear that Asher was uncomfortable.
After we loaded the bed of the truck, I pulled Avery aside.
“Let her sit in the back,” I told her quietly.
“But—”
“Ace. She’s uncomfortable as all get out. Let her sit in the back.”
Avery frowned but conceded.
The drive home was done in silence, and about halfway there, I turned on the radio, keeping it low. The hits station was playing a number of flashback songs and as we neared the subdivision, an old Boyz II Men song came on. If I listened close enough, I could hear Asher’s raspy voice singing along. I glanced at her in the rearview mirror, watching as her lips moved slightly with the words, all while her gaze was glued to the outside.
God, I wanted to know this girl. In and out.
Maybe in a few years, if she was still around, I could put some effort into her. Not that I wanted to do the whole playboy athlete thing, but there were certain perks to being an athlete and I was interested in them.
…But maybe not as much as I was interested in Asher.
I scoffed to myself. I wouldn’t put money on her being here in December. My gut said she’d stick around for a few weeks, figure things out, and then be on her merry way to wherever the hell she landed.
Never to be seen or heard from again.
I returned my focus to the road, taking the back way in so I could pull up to the guest house rather than drive through the yard—Dad hated that.
I cut the engine when I reached it and glanced behind me as Asher leaned over to look between the two front seats, frowning. “This is a guest house?”
I looked in front of us, taking in the thousand-square-foot ranch. It certainly wasn’t a tiny house, but on the inside…
“Half is Mom’s photography studio,” I answered, leaving it at that as I got out of the truck. As Asher and Avery exited the truck too, I went to the back, pulling down the gate. I tossed the keys to Avery, who caught them easily. “Wanna unlock the door?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Come take a look, Asher.” I watched as the two of them walked up the three steps to the small wrap-around porch, then as they walked into the house. I sat on the gate and pinched the bridge of my nose.
Why the hell was I so interested in this girl?
In forty-eight hours, I would be gone, and I wouldn’t be back until maybe Thanksgiving, but I was pretty sure we had a game the day after so really, the likelihood of me making the trip home was nil. Then there was Christmas, but we’d been having that in San Diego, with Cael and Jonny both living there with their wives, Sydney and Jenna, respectively.
I had to stop being so fixated on this girl. She probably wasn’t sticking around, not as long as it would be before I’d get a chance to see her again.
After a moment, I hopped down from the truck, pulling a box to the end and, muscling the large box in my arms, made my way into the house. I propped it against a living room wall, figuring we could move them to whatever room necessary after all were in.
There was a slight chill in the house; I wondered if Avery showed Asher the thermostat. Better to get all the boxes in before the heat was turned on anyway. Dad would have a canipshit if the heat was on, and the windows and doors were wide open as well.
I could hear Avery talking to Ash in the bedroom.
I paused momentarily, as I realized I unconsciously shortened Asher’s name, to, oddly enough, my middle name. I shook it off, even if the thought did knock at something in the back of my head.
The place wasn’t all that big; the living area was probably under five hundred square feet, with an open concept floor plan. From my spot near the door, just beyond the living room area was a peninsula-style kitchen counter, which was the only true separation from living room to kitchen. To the left of the kitchen, beyond what I could see due to a jutted-out wall that was closet space in the studio, were the bedroom and attached bathroom.
I left to grab another box, and when I came back in with this one in tow, the girls were in the kitchen, Avery giving Asher a super grand tour.
I mean, a dishwasher was a dishwasher.
Avery kept talking and Asher was looking more and more pale.
“I need a hand with a larger box,” I told them, after letting the one in my arms slide to rest against the previous box.
I really didn’t need help, I could easily do it on my own, but Asher had that panicky look on her face again.
This house, as small as it was, was certainly no hotel, not with its fancy appliances and Nest thermostat, adjusting the heat and air as necessary.
Not for the first time, I was curious how long Asher would hold out before finding her way away from Beloit and our family. With what little she told me and the panicked looks that crossed her face, I had the feeling all of this was too much for a girl like her.
Asher shot me a look, which I interpreted as grateful, and the three of us made it outside. I slid the largest box to the end and grasped the bottom, pulling it back slowly. “Grab the end?” I asked no one in particular, but it was Asher who stepped forward to do so.
“After this box, I want to walk her through the studio,” Avery said from her relaxed perch against the side of the truck. For this being her grand idea, she sure wasn’t helping all that much.
“Why?” I grunted, before looking around the box toward Asher, checking in on her. “You good back there?” She offered me a small smile and nodded, so I began walking backward toward the house.
“Because she’ll probably start doing some work with Mom.”
Hmm.
Maybe she wouldn’t be gone in a few months’ time.
Regardless, these boxes weren’t going to move themselves, or put themselves together, so I pushed that thought aside and walked this one in with Asher. After propping it with the others, my sister and Ash left to enter the studio and I went back out to grab more boxes—
But not without first checking over my shoulder to get another look at Asher.
…And I was pleasantly surprised to find she was doing the same to me.