“Sarge.” Anger seeped into his features.
“It’s the truth,” she whispered. This was the kind of crippling fear that crept in while she was sleeping. The thing that made her a dater rather than a settle-downer. The thing that was keeping her from getting too close to anyone. To Hawk…to Asher.
“You know I don’t think that.” He put his hand on her leg.
“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.” She pushed his hand away and stood.
“I don’t.”
She shouldn’t have shared that with him. She shouldn’t have given her fear a voice. And now that she had, she was embarrassed. Uncomfortable. Before she could escape inside, he pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“Stop struggling,” he said into her ear when she attempted to wiggle away. “I want you to listen very carefully.”
He released her waist and turned his hands over, silently asking for hers. Asher had great hands. Calluses decorated his fingers and palms from guitar playing, and on every other one, a silver ring. Tonight he wore a leather cuff on one wrist, a handful of hemp bracelets on the other one. She put her palms in his and watched as he threaded their fingers together.
“Deep breath, Sarge.”
She took one, feeling more relaxed and grounded in his arms, her hands laced with his.
“I trust you with Hawk as much as I trust myself.” His low voice rumbled down her spine. “You’re capable and smart. You’re honest and you care about everyone more than you’d dare admit.” He kept their hands linked as he wrapped his arms around her. “I don’t know what the fuck to say to you about this,” he mumbled into her hair. “Every part of me wants to apologize for putting you in this situation, but then that makes me feel like I’m apologizing for Hawk and I would never wish him away. No matter how difficult this is for you, I wouldn’t change it—because I want you here.”
She blew out a short laugh. He was so right, and in typical Asher fashion, so damn honest about what he was thinking and feeling.
He let her loose and turned her on his lap. Dark, earnest eyes studied her.
“It’s a lot to ask, I know. But maybe I should actually ask.”
Her smile erased as her heart beat a samba against her breastbone. Subtly, she shook her head. Whatever he was going to say seemed dangerous…because she wasn’t ready. She was beginning to believe she’d never be ready.
“Do this thing with me,” he said. “With me and with Hawk.”
“Thing,” she repeated, because what else was there to say? A panic attack was brewing. Because this “thing” wasn’t a small thing. Maybe she should point that out. “That’s a big ask, Asher.”
“It is what it is, Sarge.”
“You want me to…what? I already hang out here.”
He dipped his chin into a nod. “That’s a start.”
“I have a job, a life. I can’t start something.”
“Little late to regret starting, isn’t it?” he asked, and she heard frustration leak into his tone. Which made her hackles go up.
“I like my space.” She slipped off his lap. Something about fighting with him was familiar. And much more comfortable than talking about playing family. “I like to be alone,” she continued. “Maybe I need to understand who I am in the Cove. Nothing is permanent here yet. Not my apartment, my leased office building…” She swept her arm at the house and encapsulated Asher with it. He wasn’t permanent either. He could leave any time. “I need to know who I am when I’m not attached to you.”
“Attached?” He stood and scowled down at her. “You’re not attached, Sarge. And don’t act like you don’t already know exactly who you are with me. You let go with me. You push yourself with me. You let me push you.” He loomed over her. “You want that.”
“Your spontaneity has boundaries, Asher. It’s not always cute.” She folded her arms over her chest and mentally dug in. “Not everyone can be a big kid all the time.”
His lip curled. “Big kid.”
“Yeah.” It was the wrong thing to say, but she straightened her shoulders anyway and stuck by it.
A muscle in his cheek ticked. “At least I’m not a coward.”
She dropped her arms and her mouth fell open with it. “Do you know what I’ve been through in my life? Do you have any idea how brave I am? How tough I can be?”
“I know exactly how tough you can be, Gloria,” he said, his voice rising. “You won’t stop trying to prove it to me. Have you ever considered that it’s braver to trust someone to catch you if you fall?”
“How can you catch me when you’re the one pushing me?” she snapped. And there it was. The felling blow.
He backed away from her, his lips flattening and his eyes straying to the sky. She felt a pinch of regret, but something in her—that innate stubbornness saying she’d won this round—refused to take it back.
“I have work to do,” she said.
“Do it, then.” He turned for the front door, pausing with his hand on the knob to add, “If you decide to leave, lock up.”