Southern Secrets by Natasha Madison
Chapter 7
Asher
The words leavemy mouth with a laugh, and I watch her eyes the whole time. I wait to see if she will look at me differently. Her eyes never leave mine, and they never change. "I’ve seen the inside of that truck." She shakes her head, and I have to literally catch my breath at her beauty. I noticed her the minute I started working at the farm. I also knew I wasn’t going to disrespect the family by going after her. So I keep my distance and watch her from afar, hoping like fuck no one notices.
"When I was fifteen …" I want to slap my hand in front of my mouth to stop it from talking, but with her, all I want to do is to keep talking, just to be with her. "My foster brother, Ryan, and I found this couch in one of the alleys." I shake my head, thinking back to that time. "We had both decided that we were not going back to our foster home." I start to tap my finger on the bar. "We had seventeen dollars between us. God, we were such idiots."
"You were fifteen, and you thought you could live off seventeen dollars?" she asks, laughing and shaking her head. Her blue eyes light up. I can see she’s tired, and I know I shouldn’t keep her any longer than I am. She walks around the bar. Her black jeans mold to her hips, the blank tank top sticks to her small frame. "What happened?" she asks, pulling out a stool and hopping on it.
"We decided to spend the night resting. Hit the pavement the next day and start looking for jobs," I say.
"Well, at least you had a plan." She puts her hand up and leans her forehead on her fist.
"Oh, we had big plans," I say, climbing onto the stool next to her. "We were going to rule the world." I laugh, folding my hands together. "The night was hard. The honking, the sirens, the smell of urine … it was so gross." I look down at my hands. "But we were together and safe."
"Why do I feel like something is coming?" she asks with a twinkle in her eye.
"Oh, it came alright. The next day, we couldn’t stop scratching." She gasps out and puts her hands in front of her mouth. "Turns out, the couch was full of bedbugs."
She claps her hands together. "Oh my God. What did you do?"
"Nothing." I shake my head, turning to her. "This scar right here"—I point at a small scar right under my eye—"is from that."
"That is horrible," she says, and I shrug.
"Like I said, I’ve slept in worse places than the truck. I’ll be fine," I say, getting up. "Let’s go. It’s getting late."
“Seriously, though," she says, not moving from her stool. "Why don’t you just stay with me?"
"Because your family has helped me more than anyone else in my whole life," I say.
"What if it was me?" she asks, making me stop in my tracks. "Or anyone in my family? What if we lost everything we had, and you had this house with three bedrooms? Would you not offer it to us?"
"Of course, I would," I say, not skipping a beat.
"Good, so we got that covered. You can stay with me under one condition," she says, getting off the stool. "You never wear those jeans again."
I stand, folding my hand over my chest, knowing that I shouldn’t take her up on her offer. I knew when I parked the truck in the parking lot tonight that I shouldn’t come here. I knew when I walked in and saw her running back and forth that I should stay out of it. I knew all that, instead of following the yelling that was in my head. But what did I do? I jumped behind the bar and helped her out without thinking twice. "What are people going to say?"
Her eyebrows pinch together when she looks at me. "Well, they are going to think that I’m helping a friend out since you lived in our family barn that burned to the ground." She walks to the back of the bar toward the office.
"This is a horrible idea," I say to myself. "Just leave and say no," I say, knowing full well I would never leave her to walk to her car by herself in the dark.
"Okay, I’m ready to go," she says, coming back with her purse in her hand.
I wait for her to walk toward the door before I walk behind her. She sets the alarm and turns off the light, taking one look back at the bar and smiling. We walk out, and the dark air is still. "Is it always this dark?" I ask, and she looks around.
"No," she says and looks up to see two of the spotlights are off. "Fuck, I need to change the lights."
"I’ll do it tomorrow," I say, and she grabs her phone out of her pocket. "What are you doing?"
"Making a note so I don’t forget," she says.
"I just told you I’m going to do it," I say, and she ignores me and starts to walk toward her car. "Why are you like that?" I ask her when she stops right beside her car, folding my arms over my chest.
"I don’t know,” she huffs out. "Why are you like you are?" she throws back at me, going to her purse to fish out her keys. "Why don’t you accept help when you are given it?"
"You are a pain in the ass," I finally say, instead of saying she is right.
"Well, good news, then." She presses the button to open her car door. "I take it you will be coming to sleep in a bed tonight instead of a back seat?"
"Do I have a choice?" I ask, reaching out to open her door.
"We all have choices, Asher," she says, standing in front of me. "You have a choice to be an idiot and sleep in the back of your truck …" She tilts her head to the side, and even in the dark of the night, I can see the crystal in her eyes. "Or you can take me up on my offer and sleep in a bed that does not have bedbugs but that has been thrown up on and cleaned."
I laugh at her. "Well, when you put it that way, how can I say no to a bed that once had vomit on it?"
"Good choice," she says. "I’m going to pick up food on the way home. If you get there before me, the garage code is one, two, three, four."
"Your garage door is one, two, three, four?" I ask, shocked. "Your uncle is Casey Barnes, and you have one, two, three, four as a fucking code?"
She rolls her eyes at me. "You can change it if you like." She reaches out and grabs the door handle. I help her close the door, and I stand here, watching the car drive away.
Shaking my head, I grab the phone out of my pocket and walk back to the door of the bar. I turn on the flashlight and point it toward the spotlights that are out and I see that there is a hole in one of them. I look down at the ground and see the small pieces of glass on the ground. I snap a picture of the light and then walk over to the other one. I can’t see anything wrong with it.
I walk back to my truck and feel eyes on me. I turn around with my flashlight from my phone looking around. "Hello," I say to no one. I turn from one side to the next seeing no one there, but still feeling eyes on me.
I look at the clock and see that it’s almost eleven and I don’t know who is up. Instead, I send a text to Ethan, Casey, and Jacob.
Me: There is one busted light at the bar. Is there a camera feed?
My phone rings in my hand. I look down and see that it’s Jacob.
"Hey." I start my truck now.
"What do you mean the lights are busted?" Jacob asks right away, and I can hear rustling in the background.
"I was walking Amelia out of the bar, and I realized it was pitch black. She thought the lights were out, but when I went back and checked, I saw one busted. I can’t see the other one in the dark, but I’m going to come by tomorrow and change it."
"I told Beau that he should get cameras up," he says. "I’m going to call Casey tomorrow to see."
"While you are doing that, you should know that her garage password is one, two, three, four," I say, and he hisses out and groans.
"I thought she was joking," he says. "That kid is her mother’s daughter."
I smile because as much as I want to agree with him, I see a lot more of Jacob in her than I do Kallie. But I only know Kallie from a handful of times I’ve seen her at the barbecue. "Where are you staying tonight?" he asks, and my stomach burns when I think of the answer.
"I was going to stay in the truck," I say, "but Amelia said I could stay in her spare bedroom."
"If you don’t want to stay there," he says, "you can always come and stay with us."
I look down, the heat rising in my neck, and my stomach rises and falls. "You don’t have to do that."
"Please," he says. "Listen, Asher, I know you’ve just come into town, and I know you have a great job and position at the farm," he says, "but I’d like to talk to you about your options."
"My options?" I repeat the words, not sure what he means by this.
"You ever think of going into law enforcement?" he asks, and I tap the steering wheel. "I’d love to sit down with you and talk to you more about it."
"I …" I say. "I’d like that."
"Good," he says. "I’ll call you tomorrow to set up a time and place."
"Sounds good," I say and disconnect.
I need to grab my shit and leave, my head screams to me. I can’t stay here. It’s not right.
I close my eyes and put my head back. The phone in my hand vibrates, and when I look down, I see a text from Amelia.
Amelia: Got you a burger. It’s in the microwave. Good night.
"This is not good." I make my way over to her house even though I know I shouldn’t.
