“I’ll follow,” Asher said, brow furrowed. “We need to talk.”
They did. It wasn’t that Glo regretted what she said. She meant every word. She just hoped her actions hadn’t made things harder on Asher. She slid a worried look to Elana, then Leland, who joined his wife and cupped her elbow in support.
Harder on everyone.
*
“Because I just don’t want you to come in!” Gloria said after she stepped from her car and onto the sidewalk.
“Do you have eleven cats or something?” Asher asked.
“No. It’s not that.”
“Are you a hoarder?”
“Asher.” Why did he insist on making everything light? She was traumatized, had possibly traumatized Hawk…
“Are you an undercover spy and your walls are covered in your latest top-secret case?”
“No.” She came to a stop outside her door and Ash stopped with her.
“I get it, okay? Things went south today. Jordan was in the center of that. I’m not surprised. But this is also the part where you let me in. You have to talk to me.”
“I know.” She fiddled with her key ring. She owed him at least that. He would need to know what happened so he could react the right way.
“Sarge.” He lifted her chin. Clearly, he wasn’t leaving.
The idea of him in her house…She wanted to hide at the thought. No one came to her house. Sure, she’d hosted wine night when she had a rental here, but that was different. Rentals were like hotel rooms. Impersonal. Not her own. This rental, however, was full of her things. Her private things. Her private space.
She swallowed against the surge of anxiety and her keys shook in her hand.
Asher took them from her, palmed her back, and let them inside.
Fast was the only way to do this, so she pulled away from him and burst into her apartment. She dropped her purse on the kitchen table, flipped on the lights, then stood in the center of the living room and waited for Asher to follow.
He did, taking a leisurely look around. She saw what he saw. Standard brown carpet, khaki walls, basic light fixtures. A flat TV hanging on the wall and a bookshelf beneath it holding an array of movies and books. Kitchen table—small, oak with four chairs, not the most stylish but functional.
“Not alarmed, Sarge,” he said, sliding her keys in his pocket. “Half expected a collection of weird dolls or a curio cabinet full of porcelain cats or—”
Then he saw it. He’d been turning as he’d been talking, and now that he’d turned around, his gaze landed on the biggest eyesore in the room. And stuck. Now she’d have some explaining to do. She didn’t want to explain.
His eyebrows lifted and he shot her a look that said, Oh, that.
“Sarge.”
“I know.”
“That’s…interesting.” He frowned at the piece of furniture and she came to stand beside him and look at it with him. “Is that an authentic wine barrel couch from the seventies?”
“Whiskey barrels.” Whiskey barrels. Deep brown Naugahyde. Rust, mustard, and red diamond design in the center of each of the three back cushions.
“It’s—” he started.
“Hideous,” she finished for him. She knew. The couch was hideous.
“Definitely a departure from your style.”
It was. Anyone taking a look around at her black bookshelf, modern but comfortable gray-purple sofa with black and white floral print pillows, white chair with a purple chemise blanket thrown over the back would immediately balk at the extra couch in the room. It was one reason she didn’t like to have company, but not the only reason.
“I don’t even sit on it.”
“Why? Is it worth a lot of money or something?” His brow scrunched. He was trying to understand.
“Not at all.” In mint condition, and that one was not, the thing was worth about a hundred and fifty bucks. Maybe. Gloria sat on her much more stylish couch instead.
Ash took another possibly confused glance at the antique and crossed the room. “Let’s hear it.”
“The story behind the couch?” She balled her hands in her lap. It shouldn’t be a big deal. She had just built it up to be a big deal, and because of that, it felt like a really big deal.
“Yes to that, but first, let’s tackle what happened with Jordan.” He sat on the lavender couch next to her and pushed her hair from her face. “And why you look green.”
Gloria met his eyes. “She reminds me of my mother sometimes. In that she’s not a very good one.”
He nodded at the same time the corners of his mouth pulled into a frown. Glo didn’t like that either. Hawk deserved the best.
“I overstepped my boundaries,” she admitted, rubbing her knees with her hands. “I just want her to do better. I told her she needed to step it up or else her son would forever resent her.”
“That’s the truth,” he murmured, putting his hands over both of hers to stop her incessant rubbing. “Not a bad thing, Sarge.”