“I made a scene.” She looked up at him to accept her punishment. Whatever it would be. Him getting angry with her. Him leaving. She’d deserve it. But it didn’t happen.
“Honey, you are a scene,” Asher said with a smile. “Jordan is so jealous of what we have, she can’t see straight. I don’t mean she wants what we have with me, but I do think she wants this with someone. She’s all over the place. Can’t focus that energy to a point. It’s good you told her where her focus should be.”
“Shouldn’t it be obvious?” Gloria asked. He took one of her hands and she traced his skull ring with her fingertip.
“Yeah. It should be,” he said, his voice low. “It was to you.”
She lifted her head. Asher gave her a soft smile, then leaned back on the couch, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her back with him.
“Now let’s hear the story of that beast.” He nodded at the couch.
“It was my grandmother’s. She died when I was twenty-four.”
She saw the question on his face. If she had a grandmother who was alive when Gloria was young, then why had she lived with a pair of drug addicts?
“Her name was Rita. My mom’s mom. She had a house full of things that were destined for the Dumpster, but she loved them and so she kept them. My grandfather, her husband, died when I was a baby. My mom and I lived with her on and off since my dad came into our lives as often as he went out. Rita always took us in, even though my mom was an addict. My mom stole from her a lot.”
Asher ran his fingers along her arm and just listened.
“I was about four years old when she started forgetting things. The Alzheimer’s was full-blown by the time I was ten. My mom moved back in with my father permanently, and he’d recently gone through rehab. Sobriety didn’t last. He and Mom started shooting up a few months after we moved into our shitty apartment. Rita had to be put into an assisted-living home. I visited her when I was old enough to take the bus on my own, but she didn’t remember me.
“Long story short, she died when I was living in Chicago. Word came to me late. The will left everything to my mom, who I had no contact with for obvious reasons. I drove to the facility in Indiana and arrived to find Rita’s room completely empty, save for that.” Gloria pointed at the Naugahyde sofa.
“The damn thing weighs a couple hundred pounds, which is the only reason it was left behind. Everything else of hers fit in boxes that they shipped to my mom.”
She would never forget that day. Showing up to Grandma Rita’s room, mourning and grieving her passing, along with regretting not having visited in months.
“I called local movers and paid them my next two months’ rent if they’d load up the couch, drive it to Chicago, and put it in my twenty-eighth-floor apartment.”
Her grandmother was the only bright spot of her childhood Glo could remember.
“That’s it,” she said.
“Eerily normal, Sarge.” Ash threaded his fingers with hers. “I have an old guitar my dad gave me that he used to play when he was a kid. It’s beat up, missing a few strings. I don’t play it. I just want it. No shame in having that.” He pointed to the couch with their linked hands.
It was a big deal to her. For the girl who had never kept a piece of anyone, who didn’t give a piece of herself to anyone.
“I don’t…talk about her.” It hurt too much, to feel the weight of what she’d lost. Instead of admitting that truth, she shrugged and said, “I’m just not used to having people in my space, that’s all.”
“That’s all,” he repeated, but it wasn’t in agreement—she could tell by his tone.
She was getting increasingly fidgety and feeling as if she was being challenged but not understanding why his knowing this about her made her so nervous.
“You don’t let people in, Glo,” he said.
She stayed silent.
“But you let me in.”
She didn’t like where this was going. She didn’t like how exposed she felt. How bare.
“Like you said, no big deal. I have an embarrassing couch. Now you’ve seen it, and I’m tired, and you should go.” She stood and pulled her hand from his, but Asher stood with her, wrapped a hand around her arm, and tugged her close.
“Stop,” he commanded, and before she could point out that he wasn’t the boss of her, he kissed her long and hard.
“Ash,” she breathed when he tore his lips from hers. He tasted good, felt better, but she wasn’t going to allow herself to be silenced by his kiss.
“Glo,” he returned.
“This doesn’t change anything,” she snapped, trying to get a handle on the conversation. On her hectic feelings.
“This changes everything,” he stated. “You let me in.”
“So what?” She was getting angry now. Her posture grew rigid as she yanked her shoulders back. In her mind, she was busily piling bricks over the huge hole she’d just knocked in a wall, showing the ugliest parts of herself.
He knew too much about her. She thought it might help, but it only frightened her. She never should have let Asher follow her home. He was too close. This was too much.