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

I paused.
Seven years.
“I assume you had to probate, or whatever it is for a time before that?”

Asher choked out a laugh. “Prospect, babe,” he corrected. “Yeah, for six months. Fuckin’ misery, though I’m glad I didn’t have to prospect when Gage was around, he puts those poor shits through Hell,” he informed me lightly.

I pondered this. Seven and a half years with the Sons, time in the Navy. I assumed you had to be in the Navy for a while to become a SEAL.

“How old are you?” I asked finally. I had him pegged not much older than me, but he’d have to be way older if I factored all that in.

He seemed caught unaware. “Twenty-nine, why? You got an age limit on men you date?” he teased.

“Twenty-nine?” I repeated in disbelief. “But that’s not enough time,” I exclaimed.

“Not enough time for what?” he sounded amused.

“To become not only a bad ass Navy SEAL and then a bad ass biker,” I blurted.

Asher choked out another laugh. “I joined the Navy at seventeen, flower. Trained for a year then served for four. Joined the Sons straight after,” he informed me.

“Seventeen,” I repeated. “That’s so young. You were just a kid,” I murmured. Too young to go down whatever dark road he went down. One I wanted to ask about but felt too shy to. I may have been coming out of my shell with him, but I’d never abandon it.

There was a pause. “Yeah, I was a troubled kid. Fucked up. I came out a man. Still fucked up in a way, differently ‘cause of the shit I saw. The club showed me different kinds of fucked up, but it fixed what could be fixed,” he replied.

I was taken aback. He shared so readily with me. Talked … like really talked. Didn’t grunt or speak in monosyllables. He was telling me about his life. Like he wanted me to know about it. Like he wanted me to be a part of it.

“What could be fixed?” I repeated. “What about what couldn’t?”

“I’m starting to think only one person could fix that, I just have to be patient enough to wait for her,” he murmured softly.

I let out a small gasp at the meaning behind his words at who
her
meant. I fiddled with the cushion on our sofa uneasily. He couldn’t mean
me.
He had to know I couldn’t fix him when I was beyond repair myself.

“You think that’s me,” I clarified.

“No,” he said immediately. “I know it’s you.”

My heart sank and soared at the same time. “How do you know? You don’t know everything about me, about what I’m not. Not that girl,” I whispered, staring around our apartment. I was like this very apartment. Desperately covered with things to distract from what was underneath. Instead of crumbling paint, it was a crumbling soul that was poorly hidden.

“I know enough,” he replied firmly.

I took a deep breath, feeling the effort it took to do so. If he was being so candid with me I had to tell him the truth.

“I’m not up for fixing anyone, I can’t even fix myself,” I declared finally.

“You can’t expect to fix yourself, losing your mom, it’s not something you get over quickly. It’s not something you get over full stop. You learn to live with it,” he told me softly. “You can’t expect to fix yourself, ‘cause you’re not broken, flower, just bruised.”

“It’s not just that, Asher,” I choked out. “I’ve been broken since before ... that, before she got sick,” I admitted.

There was a loaded silence. “I don’t follow, flower,” Asher’s voice was confused.

I stood and wandered around our apartment, unable to be stationary a moment longer.

“Since before I can remember I’ve been different. Weaker than everyone else. At first, I was just shy….” I paused, “then it turned into something else. A weight on my chest I couldn’t escape. A constant awareness that situations could turn that weight into a vice that made me feel like I couldn’t breathe.”

I didn’t tell him about the condition that actually stole the breath from me. I couldn’t dump all of my weaknesses on him in one go. He’d realize I couldn’t live in his life. He’d leave. I knew it had to happen, but I couldn’t say goodbye to his voice at the other end of the phone just yet.

“Some people think I’m quiet. Shy. Others think I’m rude. The vast majority of people don’t understand what it’s like being unable to control your mind’s reaction to situations. Crowds. Strangers. Anything unexpected really. It’s like an illness you can’t cure. One that you can only manage.” I took a strangled breath, even talking about it made me anxious. “I used to wish that it was a physical illness. Because then at least there’d be a cure. An end. Being trapped in your own head is not something I’d wish on anyone,” I whispered brokenly.

I blinked. I couldn’t believe I’d just said all that. I hadn’t told anyone just how much my anxiety affected me. How weak it made me.

“Flower,” Asher murmured with sympathy. The single word held so much. Even on the other side of the phone, miles away, I could hear it.

I had to nip that in the bud. “I don’t pity myself,” I said quickly. “There’re worse things than being ... shy. I just needed you to know. The real me. Not who you think I am,” I told him slowly, knowing this is when I’d get the goodbye I feared. I couldn’t believe I’d even verbalized this part of myself. I never talked this much about how I felt, not to anyone. But the distance that the phone offered, let me and Asher become closer despite being in different towns.

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.