Beyond the Horizon (The Sons of Templar MC Book 4) Page 11

  There was a long pause. “Jesus,” Asher muttered finally. “You don’t know how much I wished I could get on my bike and see your beautiful face. Look into those ice blue eyes and tell you you’re not who I think you are….” he paused, “you’re better. I hate that for you, Lily. That you have to struggle with something I can never fix. It doesn’t define you. How you handle it, who you become in spite of that shit defines you. Who you are, it’s pretty fuckin’ impressive,” he declared. “I’m strugglin’ babe. I’ve gotta admit. I know I said I’d give you time. Wait until you were ready before this turned into what I want it to be. You saying shit like that, not being able to be there, to hold you, see your face. It’s killing me,” he admitted.

  I swallowed. I couldn’t stand that pain and frustration in his voice. I also couldn’t handle what he wanted us to turn into right now. I couldn’t handle what he’d just said. I stared out the window in shock. He didn’t sound confused, disgusted or detached. He sounded proud. The only other person who repeated a familiar sentiment was the person who understood me better than anyone in the world. The person I buried days ago.

  That realization hit me like a freight train. I couldn’t do this. Talk about this with him. Not when I was still trying to escape the big sad.

  “I’ve got to go,” I said quickly, wiping away my tears.

  “Lily,” Asher’s voice protested.

  “I’ve got to go, I’m sorry,” I whispered, then hung up the phone.

  I stared out the window at the view of depleted homes and gray apartment buildings for a long time after that.

  “Tequila?” Bex asked from behind me.

  I turned to regard her strangely bright eyes focused on me and her hands holding up a bottle that offered numbness.

  “Tequila,” I nodded.

  It was my night off, not from work, but from partying. The past few days had been a blur. A blur of cocktails, wine, and clothes that I didn’t feel comfortable in. After said cocktails and wine, I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything. Parties where I didn’t know a soul except Bex. Clubs that were so crowded, I felt like I couldn’t take a step without brushing someone’s arm. A cocktail of things that usually would have had me a hyperventilating mess. Would have had me running away to the solitude of my own company. The thing was my own company didn’t offer solace, only demons that wine and loud parties promised to chase away. There wasn’t time to think. Time to remember. There was only the immediate, the now, the next drink, the next song. Then when I woke up, my thoughts would be on curing my headache. Whether it be with trash television and junk food, or burying my head back in the pillows. When the headache was cured it was the next drink. It was so far from what I would have done, I felt comfort in the uncomfortable environment.

  “You sure you don’t need a couple more days off?” Jude asked, eyeing me skeptically.

  I knew I didn’t look like me. My long hair was teased into a messy ponytail. My eyes were rimmed with dark liner I never wore. My clothes showed more than they concealed. I was wearing Bex’s skin tight oil coated jeans and a teeny white crop top. Like I said, comfort came from the uncomfortable trapping of this adopted persona.

  “I’m sure,” I replied firmly, giving her my fake smile. I was getting mighty good at it. I almost convinced myself it was real.

  She peered at me once more. “Okay,” she said finally. “I don’t do mushy shit, but I did lose my mom young.” Her hard eyes softened a smidgeon. “Know what that pain is like, Lily. Feel for you girl.” She gave my arm a quick squeeze.

  Jude was pushing fifty and the years weren’t kind to her. I wasn’t talking about her looks, she looked five years younger than she was. Her inky black hair was free from any gray strands giving away her age. Her skin was perpetually tanned, and wrinkles touched the corner of her eyes and mouth. If she looked five years younger, she dressed fifteen years younger. She was wearing a tight red tee with a plunging neckline, tucked into tight black jeans, her spike heeled boots coming up to mid-calf. She was wearing enough silver jewelry to sink the Titanic. None of that betrayed what she had endured in her life. It was her eyes. Demons danced beyond them.

  “Thanks,” I replied quietly.

  She nodded briskly and turned to retreat back into her office.

  I took a breath and braced for all the hugs and sympathetic words that the girls had for me as soon as Jude left. The women I worked with were all nice, lovely in fact. That was the problem. Lovely people offered sympathy. Sympathy reminded me of what I was trying desperately to forget.

  “You’re so strong, Lily. Coming back to work so soon?” Skye squeezed my hand once she released me from the hug, her eyes kind. “I’d never be able to do that.”

  “And you look great,” Emma added from beside me, her made up eyes scanning my body. “Different, but great.”

  “Not that you didn’t look great before,” Skye added quickly, narrowing her eyes at Emma.

  Emma’s eyes widened in confusion. She had no filter and wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box, but she had a good heart. Both girls were bubbly, beautiful and not afraid to come to work in what was little more than underwear. Which was why they always raked in more tips than me. Prior to tonight, I’d never shown this much skin, wore this much makeup, no matter how desperate I’d been for the money.

  “Let’s get ready for a big night,” Emma winked, lining up shot glasses.

  Skye handed me one. “To Lily’s mom,” she said quietly.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and clinked the tiny glass against theirs. I savored the fire of the alcohol as it burned my throat and numbed my fingertips. I immediately grabbed the bottle and filled up our glasses once more, lifting mine to them and downing it.

  Both girls held their still full glasses and regarded me in amazement. I never drank at work. They did. Everyone did. It wasn’t frowned upon by Jude, hell, she encouraged it. Especially when the customers paid for our drinks, which they routinely did. As long as we could still pour beer and string together sentences it was fine. I was happy for that particular job benefit right about now.

  The bar we worked on straddled the invisible line between the ‘good’ side of Tasman Springs and the ‘dodgy’ side. That and our reputation for having pretty young bartenders wearing little to no clothes flirting with the customers. That meant our clientele was always mixed with drunken frat boys and rougher, more dangerous men. We didn’t have much trouble, probably because Jude was well known and respected, and she had a shotgun behind the bar.

  “To a big night,” I muttered, holding up my third glass.

  I sat on a nearly empty bus at three in the morning, blearily regarding the empty streets passing me by. My mind was fuzzy at the edges, I wasn’t blotto, considering I’d switched to water halfway through my shift. I may have been taking to my new lifestyle like a fish to water, but I was yet to find the ability to drink like a fish. I was a lightweight. I also needed this job. My money was getting dangerously low, and my expenses were dangerously high. Oblivion was tempting, but homelessness was a deterrent. I was right on one thing, my tips drastically improved with my new wardrobe and drinking habits.

  My eyes flickered down to the screen of my phone. I’d missed Asher’s call tonight. I’d been working, but I didn’t know if I could speak to him after the way we left things the previous day. Despite what he made me feel, the pain speaking to him ushered in, I missed the sound of his voice already. I took a breath.

  Me: Sorry I missed your call, I was working. Talk tomorrow? I paused typing while chewing my lip, then added xxx

  Kisses at the end of a text may have been a stupid thing to obsess over, I’d lost my virginity to the man for goodness sake, but I still felt a strange closeness about the gesture. I didn’t put kisses at the end of any other text message, apart from with my mom and Bex. That and I rarely texted anyone but my mom and Bex.

  I jumped when my phone rang in my hand, the sound seeming louder in the quiet bus.

  “Hello?�
� I whispered, feeling self-conscious about being the obnoxious person talking on the bus. The woman in the nurse’s uniform a couple of seats down, and the homeless man across from me didn’t seem worried.

  “Lily,” Asher greeted softly.

  “What are you doing up so late?” I asked, frowning.

  “Babe, it’s Friday night,” he said by explanation.

  I screwed my nose up. “And?” I questioned.

  He laughed a little. “I forget sometimes, you don’t know this stuff….” he paused, “Friday night, it’s unofficial party night here. Like clockwork. And since I reside at the club, it’s kind of hard to sleep with that shit going on. If you can’t beat ‘em join ‘em.” There was humor in his voice, a lightness. He was slightly tipsy if I didn’t know any better. As I was slightly tipsy, I did know better.

  “Right, I knew that,” I said, almost to myself. My heart dropped as a thought struck me. Parties. Like the ones the girls at my school were desperate to go to. I guessed this party would have girls just like the ones at my school. Beautiful girls. Confident girls. Women like the one three years ago.

  “Flower?” Asher’s voice coaxed me out of this toxic thought. “What?” He seemed to sense something in my silence, different from my usual.

  “Nothing,” I replied quickly. I couldn’t say anything. I didn’t have any claim over him. We spoke on the phone. Had had sex twice. It may have meant everything to me. It didn’t mean it meant everything to him. That we were anything.

  “It’s not nothing,” he answered firmly. “If you’ve got something to say, you say it. You might swallow your words with other people, not with me.”

  I paused. “You were at this party,” I started slowly.

  “Yes,” Asher replied patiently.

  “And there were girls there,” I stated, feeling like an idiot.

  I heard Asher’s sigh at the other end of the phone. “Yeah, there’s always girls here, babe,” he told me.

  My heart dropped.

  “I don’t see them,” he continued, his voice hoarse. “They all blur into one. They’re all the same. Trying to be something different, to play a part. I see right through them. They’re transparent. No substance. You….” he paused, “you’re different. There’s no one that can equal you. I can’t see through you, babe. You take up every inch of my sight. It takes every inch of my concentration to see into you. You’re not pretending to be anyone. You’re just you. There’s no comparison,” he declared.

  My breath left me in a whoosh. “So you’re not...?” my voice trailed off, unable to voice that particular concern.

  Asher’s reply was instantaneous. “Since I laid my mouth on yours that morning on my bike I would never pollute it by touching anyone else. I’m yours, babe. I know that scares the shit out of you at the moment, but it’s a fact.”

  I wasn’t an idiot. I knew his behavior, the way he called me every night, the way he spoke to me meant he cared about me. I knew what was between us. I struggled to believe it. I’d spent my whole life convincing myself I was painfully ordinary, I couldn’t understand why I had this extraordinary connection with someone like Asher.

  My eyes moved to the dark, desolate world outside. “Drat,” I hissed into the phone, launching from my seat. I pressed the button on the bus and it started to slow, the driver’s eyes meeting mine.

  “Not the answer I was expecting,” Asher replied with humor in his tone.

  I rushed down the aisle as the driver came to a stop. I gave him a grateful smile, stepping out into the chilly night.

  “No, it wasn’t because of you,” I reassured him as I started walking. “I missed my stop and my feet hurt. I just tacked an extra ten minutes of pain onto my journey,” I informed him, walking quickly along the lonely streets.

  There was a long pause. “Your stop?” Asher repeated, the humor gone from his voice.

  “Yeah, my stop,” I agreed, rubbing at my shoulders, wishing I’d worn a thicker jacket.

  “Please do not tell me you are on a bus,” he said slowly.

  “I’m not on a bus,” I answered. “I’m off the bus and walking home.”

  Another loaded pause. “Walking home?” His voice was granite.

  I screwed up my nose. “Yes, why do you keep repeating everything I’m saying? Is there a bad connection?” I asked in confusion.

  “No, Lily. I can hear you loud and clear, I just can’t quite believe what I’m hearing,” he said tightly. “You’re walking home at three in the morning, alone in your neighborhood, am I correct?” His tone was flat.

  “Yes,” I responded slowly, registering his anger, even on the phone.

  “Fuck,” he shouted and I jumped. “Do you know how difficult it is knowing this shit and being half a fuckin’ hour away?” he gritted out.

  “It’s fine—” I started.

  “It’s not fine,” he cut me off angrily. “You live in a seriously shady part of town. It’s the middle of the night, you’re walking home alone. Have you got any goddamned sense of self-preservation?” he bellowed into the phone.

  I straightened my spine, glancing around me. The neighborhood wasn’t great, I’d admit. And it wasn’t my usual habit to be out and about at this time, but I’d done it a handful of times and didn’t encounter problems. There were even a couple of scantily clad girls across from me stumbling home. A lot of college kids lived in this area, thanks to cheap rent.

  “I have plenty,” I hissed. “What I don’t have is a horse drawn carriage to ferry me wherever I need to go whenever my heart desires. I live in the real world. Where I’ve got to eat and pay rent. Which means I need to work. I don’t appreciate someone yelling at me, because he doesn’t agree with the only choice of transportation available to me,” I informed him sharply.

  “Why are you taking the bus in the first place? You have a car,” Asher’s voice was still hard, and he ignored my small monolog.

  “Bex is borrowing my car, which I couldn’t even drive if I had it, considering I don’t want a DUI,” I informed him smartly. Bex was going to pick me up, but she was working later than I was, hence the bus. I wasn’t going to tell Asher that. I didn’t owe him an explanation.

  “You’re fuckin’ drunk?” Asher exclaimed in disbelief.

  Shit. Maybe that wasn’t as smart as I thought. “No. I’ve just had a couple of shots,” I backpedaled.

  I heard a long sigh at the other end of the phone. I let out my own sigh as my apartment building came into view. My feet thanked the Lord.

  “Please tell me you’ve got protection,” he said finally.

  “Protection?” I repeated.

  “Yeah, babe, pepper spray, taser, gun?” he listed off these things like grocery items.

  “A gun?” I repeated. “Could you honestly visualize me knowing how to work a gun?” I asked him honestly, crossing my parking lot.

  “No, which means I’m gonna teach you how,” he bit out.

  I blanched at the thought of handling a gun. “No, thank you,” I replied briskly.

  “Jesus, Lily. Do you know how crazy it makes me thinking of you in danger? Of someone hurting you?” he asked in exasperation.

  I paused riffling through my bag for my key. “No,” I replied honestly. “Asher, I’ve never had anyone care about me. Not like you. Apart from my mom, and she was different. A lot different. She swore a lot less that was for sure,” I joked. I turned my key in the lock. “I’m not used to how intense this is,” I explained, sinking onto our lumpy sofa once I got inside our apartment.

  Asher sighed again. “I know. Shit. I’m sorry, Lily. I try and remind myself of that. To take it slow with you. Be gentle….” he paused, his anger seeming to deflate immediately. “Where are you now?” he asked with concern.

  “Home safe. Unmugged and unmolested,” I informed him, the walk not sobering me completely, hence my flippant demeanor.

  Asher growled. “Don’t joke about that,” he warned. “You’re not bussing home again. You need a ride, it’s on th
e back of my bike. We clear?”

  I nodded. The thought of actually seeing him, not just hearing a voice at the other end of the phone enticing. Of having someone to care if I got home safely.

  “You alone at home?” he continued, taking my silence as confirmation.

  “Yeah,” I responded quietly, expecting him to talk about the dangers of a woman in an apartment alone.

  “Where are you?” he asked, something changing in his voice.

  “On the sofa,” I replied, yanking my boots off and laying back.

  “What are you wearing?” he questioned, his voice thick.

  My stomach dropped. Desire tickled in my stomach. “Did you really just ask that?” I squeaked out.

  “Yep,” he replied simply. “It’s what I dream about, Lily. What that beautiful little body is clad in every day,” he said. “You turned on, flower?” he continued.

  I swallowed. I’d never done this before. I never talked aloud about sex, not to anyone.

  “Yes,” I found myself whispering, my hand running over my breast.

  “Me too,” he growled. “My cock’s hard as a rock every time I hear that throaty voice on the other end of the phone,” he rasped.

  I let out a little moan as I ran my finger over my breast at his words.

  “You touching yourself, Lily?” he asked hoarsely.

  “Y-yes,” I stuttered.

  “Where?” he demanded.

  I couldn’t do it. Even with residual alcohol running through my system, I couldn’t verbalize this.

  “Is it your nipple? Your beautiful breasts? Pinch those nipples for me, Lily,” he instructed.

  I did as I was told, breathing heavily into the phone.

  “Is that good, baby?” he asked in a rough voice.

  Arousal superseded my embarrassment. “Yes,” I breathed the word.

  “If I were there I’d close my mouth over those delicious peaks,” he declared. “I want you to touch your pussy, Lily. It’ll be wet for me,” he continued in a voice thick with desire.