Beyond the Horizon (The Sons of Templar MC Book 4) (24 page)

My stomach dipped with desire, despite the fact I’d had a thoroughly satisfying orgasm not moments ago. I distracted myself by piling textbooks into my tan slouchy leather bag. My one beautiful, designer accessory—one I’d never be able to afford in a million years—a Christmas present from Gwen and Amy.

“Jesus, how does someone as tiny as you carry around all of those books?” His tone was drenched in disbelief as he watched me stretch the expensive bags seams to the limit.

I eyed the beautiful bag in distaste. “With great difficulty,” I answered truthfully.

Asher put his hands behind his head, my eyes attached themselves to his biceps and appreciated the way they flexed with this movement.

“Maybe I should blow off the club and walk around carrying your books all day,” he suggested.

I laughed. “Yeah, and then we’d have a trail of drooling girls following us wherever we went,” I teased.

Asher rolled his eyes. “I’m more worried about the drooling boys,” he shot back lightly, though his eyes weren’t as teasing as they were moments before. “One boy in particular.”

I raised my brow. “You’re not going to let that pretty face be distorted by a green-eyed monster are you now?” I asked sweetly.

He didn’t answer, and his eyes traveled down the length of me when I straightened.

“I thought you said you had classes all day,” his tone was questioning.

“I do,” I replied, scanning my messy desk for anything else I might need. My gaze stuttered over a forgotten flyer. One promising miracle cancer results. A blade went through my heart.

“And you’re wearing that?” Asher’s question jolted me out of my pity party.

I glanced down at my outfit self-consciously. “Yeah, what’s wrong with it?”

My white blouse was a reminder of the days I worked at Gwen’s store and could get some pricey items at a serious discount. It was white silk, and I had it half tucked into tight white jeans. The shoes were also a gift from Gwen after she had to clean out her closet when moving in with Cade. They were tan mules with a chunky heel, and I loved them.

Asher pushed out of bed, stalking over to me. It didn’t escape me that his ability to stalk naked was impressive and drool worthy. His finger traced over the bandage hiding under my hair, his other hand on my hip.

“Not one single thing is wrong with what you look like, apart from this,” he told me, lightly touching my injured forehead. “You’re beautiful,” he stated, his eyes running the length of me again. “I just thought college girls wore ripped jeans and baggy hoodies,” he continued, his tone teasing.

I regarded him. “When have you ever seen me in a baggy hoody?” I asked him seriously.

Asher pondered. “Every time I’ve had the pleasure of seeing this tight little body, it’s always been encased in a delightful package,” he replied, nuzzling my neck. He pulled back, his eyes serious. “You sure you’re okay today?” He brushed the bandage once more.

I nodded. “I’m more worried about Bex, you’ll check on her before you leave?”

Asher nodded tightly. “Yeah, flower. Not that I think she’d admit to me that she wasn’t okay. Seems like that girl could be bleeding from a bullet wound and cover it with a Band-Aid and declare there was nothing wrong,” he said seriously.

“Well, at least I know what a bullet wound looks like should that ever happen,” I replied, looking at my feet. The events of yesterday invaded my mind. Worry that seemed to pile on top of everything else weighing me down.

Asher seemed to sense my growing panic. His hand tightened. “I’m gonna take care of this, flower. I’m gonna take care of you,” he promised.

I didn’t want to, but I sank into his hold, into the warm cocoon his words provided. I should have argued. I should have told him that I would take care of myself, that I had to. Otherwise, I’d get lost in him. But I didn’t.

He kissed my lips gently. “See you tonight?” he asked when I reluctantly pulled back.

“I’m working tonight,” I groaned. “And the next, and the next, maybe until the end of time. Or until Bex heals and I don’t have to cover both of our rents.” I frowned at the prospect of surviving all of this even more tired than I usually was. At how I was going to keep my GPA high enough to keep my scholarship. Pressure hit my chest, and I felt a vice around my lungs.

Asher’s jaw tightened. “I said I’d take care of you, Lily. That means you don’t have to work at that place anymore,” he told me flatly.

My panic was momentarily forgotten. It would never be truly forgotten, the pressure on my chest told me that. But anger seemed to be a good distraction.

“I’m late,” I snapped. “That means I cannot articulate everything wrong with that sentence. I’ll condense my rant. You won’t pay my rent. You won’t turn me into a helpless woman reliant on you for everything from orgasms to electricity bills,” I informed him in a tight voice.

His face turned hard at my words, and I didn’t give him a chance to respond.

“I’ve got to go,” I said tightly, hoisting my bag onto my shoulder, and turning my back on him.

Asher’s hand fastened around my wrist, and he yanked me back into his body, plastering my lips with his before I could protest. It was embarrassing that even though I was annoyed, I didn’t fight one bit.

“You don’t get it, flower. I’m the one who’s reliant on you,” he murmured against my mouth. “Just trying to find a way to even the scales.”

My anger dissipated in an instant. My fragile emotional state had my state of mind in a precarious position.

“You’re late,” he reminded me gently.

“I’m late,” I agreed.

He rested his forehead on mine for a moment longer before I sighed and used all my willpower to walk out the door.

“Lily?”

It took me a moment to register my name being called. I jerked my head up from its position bent over a medical textbook.

“Aids?” I blinked at the sheepish figure standing beside the table I’d claimed in the corner of the library. All of my books were scattered atop of it. I think most of my wits were hiding amongst the pages.

“Mind if I sit?” He gestured to the seat across from me.

I shook my head, moving books around.

He sat, regarding me anxiously. “I’m surprised you’re talking to me. That you didn’t just tell me to screw off,” he said slowly.

I tilted my head. “Of course I’m talking to you, why would I tell you to screw off?” I asked, perplexed.

He frowned, then the sheepish look returned. “That night, outside your work? I met your boyfriend’s fist? Said some pretty ugly things to you. Some things I want to apologize profusely for,” he said.

I nodded. “Oh that, sorry, my head’s not exactly doing its best with the whole thinking thing,” I joked lightly. “I’m the one that’s sorry. Asher was out of line.” I inspected his nose, thankfully it was still straight and perfect. I hadn’t seen him since that night, hadn’t heard from him. I was a bad person, I didn’t even try and contact him. I should have. He’d been a good friend to me. But with everything else going on, I’d just never found the time. I was surprised I was only just running into him now, after being back for almost a month. Then again, I was almost always hurrying to my next class or camped out in the library.

Aiden shook his head. “No, he did the right thing. I was out of line…” he paused, “I was just surprised. You looked so different, you were acting so different and him,” he looked at me in the eye for the first time, “he’s not someone I ever expected you’d be with,” he said carefully. His eyes ran over me. “You look more like yourself,” he pointed out.

“You mean I’m sober and not wearing midriff-baring outfits?” I asked with sarcasm.

Aiden’s face changed slightly at my response. He wasn’t used to replies like that from me.

“Um ... yeah. That’s one way to put it,” he said slowly. “I’m so happy that you’re back at school. It’s where you belong. You’re better now? Doing okay?” he asked with genuine concern.

It was the genuine concern that stopped me from laughing coldly like I felt like doing. Was I doing okay? After burying the only family I had left? After witnessing a shooting, after being assaulted the night before?

“Yeah, I’m getting there,” I replied softly, not completely lying.

I may still have that vice threatening to strangle me, the pressure on my chest, the pain in my soul, but I also had Asher. I really had him, and he really wanted me. The thought warmed the ice of my grief.

Aiden smiled warmly at me. “Good,” he proclaimed and paused. “You’re not still with that biker are you? That was just a phase, a response to the turmoil in your life?”

I sat back, pursing my lips at his condescending tone. I knew he meant well, but I couldn’t help being pissed right off at the way he decided to show concern. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt patronized by him, I had come to accept it as part of who he was, before. But now, I felt unable to timidly accept it.

I pushed my hair back in frustration. “Asher is not a phase,” I began tightly, about to launch into an uncharacteristic monolog about what exactly Asher was to me.

I stopped because Aiden’s eyes focused on my forehead and bulged out in horror.

“He did that?” he exclaimed in fury. “Jesus, Lily.”

“Of course he didn’t,” I snapped, letting my hair fall back down. “What, because of something you think you know about what he is, makes you think he’s capable of violence against women?”

Aiden’s face turned icy. “I know he’s capable of violence. I know what his gang gets up to. They’re scum, Lily. The dregs of society. You should not be with the dregs. Your friend no doubt introduced you, those are the kind of people she ... entertains,” he spat.

I stared at him, not recognizing whoever just uttered those words. “You should go,” I told him firmly. “I’ve got a lot of studying to do.” I looked down to my books. I had to. Otherwise, I might just reach across the table and strangle him.

Aiden’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re dismissing me?”

I glanced at him. “I’m informing you of the fact I’m quite eager to pass this paper, and to do so I need to study, and also not get kicked out of the library for breaking your nose with this textbook,” I said flatly. “Which is exactly what I’ll do if you say another word about my boyfriend or my best friend.”

Aiden gazed at me in amazement. “I’m trying to look out for you, Lily,” he explained.

I raised my brow at him. “Uh-huh. I’m quite capable of doing that. And capable of deciding who should be and should not be in my life,” I said pointedly.

He stared at me in silence for a moment and stood up. “I really wish that were true,” he uttered with disappointment.

I stared at his retreating back, the exchange leaving a sour taste in my mouth. I thought Aiden was my friend. Things had gotten mixed up when we tried to make it more, but I thought he was a decent guy, and I’d missed him. I found myself questioning whether he had ever been a decent guy. Maybe now, I had taken off whatever glasses I’d been looking at the world through before. Maybe now, I was stripped down bare, I saw people for what they were. Or maybe Aiden was just an asshole. I couldn’t ponder it. I had books to bury myself in for the remaining hour I had left before I had to rush home to change and go to work.

I got home expecting to be greeted with a giant bloodstain staring at me. I was surprised when my gaze hit the clean carpet, with a faint ring of pink where Dylan had been shot. Other than that, nothing.

I glared at Bex, who was lounging on the sofa.

“What?” she asked defensively. “It wasn’t me. I listened to your strict instructions and haven’t moved my ass off the sofa,” she informed me. She nodded to the silent man sitting in the armchair across from her. The one who had shocked me for a moment until I spotted his prospect patch and remembered Asher calling earlier today informing me they’d have
“someone on us”
until they could be sure Dylan wasn’t going to do anything further.

“Stan over here did it, quite impressive really, he could have a career in stain removal if the biker thing doesn’t work out,” she mused with a straight face.

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, Stan,” I addressed the skinny redhead staring blankly at the television. He surprised me, not looking like a biker at all. But I wasn’t one to judge books by their covers.

His eyes cut to me. “You’re welcome, Ma’am. But my name’s not Stan,” he informed me. “It’s Skid,” he added.

“Oh, okay, sorry, Skid,” I said quickly, feeling my face flame slightly. I glared at Bex. “Why are you calling him Stan?” I hissed under my breath.

She glanced at him. “Because I refused to believe his actual name is
‘Skid’
and he won’t tell me his real name. Ain’t that right Andrew?”

He didn’t move his gaze from the television, just shook his head slightly.

Bex grinned. “It’s a game we’re playing,” she informed me.

I rolled my eyes before narrowing them on the nasty purple bruise on her face and the ring of red around her neck. I flinched slightly.

“How are you?” I asked in a softer voice, stepping forward to bend down in front of her.

Bex’s grin dimmed slightly. “I’m fine,” she reassured me. She shook a little bottle in front of me. “Silas brought me the good stuff.” Her gaze went to the corner, where she must have gotten another imperceptible head shake.

I frowned at the bottle, snatching it off her to inspect the label. I was just reading about prescription medicines. “Don’t take too much of that, these are strong and easy to get addicted to,” I said seriously.

Something had flickered in her eyes before she snatched the bottle back from me.

“Okay, okay, Nurse Ratchet,” she teased. Her face turned serious once more, and she pushed my hair back and flinched when she saw my head. “I’m sorry, Lilmeister,” she whispered.

I squeezed her hand. “I thought we agreed this was not your fault,” I told her firmly. “I’ve got to change for work, you two okay here?” I asked, my gaze darting between them.

Bex’s smile returned. “Me and Jordan are fine.”

I shook my head. “Have you spoken to Carlos about not being able to work?” I asked with concern.

She scrunched up her nose. “Yeah, I did talk to that weasel. He said he was disappointed in me for letting him down, as if turning into a dickwad’s punching bag was my decision,” she scoffed.

“He’s a dick,” I informed her.

She nodded. “That he is,” she agreed. “But he’s a dick that signs my paychecks. Or he will when I can get back to work. Until then, he’s got me on unpaid leave.”

My back straightened in anger. “Unpaid?” I repeated. “You’re entitled to paid sick leave.”

She shook her head. “I’m not entitled to shit, I’m lucky I’ve got a job to go back to. Not that Carlos has much choice, I’m one of his top earners….” she paused, worry tainting her face slightly. “This better get better, quick smart,” she gestured to her body, “my rainy day fund is seriously lacking, and by lacking I mean nonexistent.” The bravado in her voice was long gone and now only worry remained.

I grabbed her hand and squeezed once more. “Don’t worry, I’ve got us covered,” I reassured her with a smile.

She frowned at me. “I’m not putting my shit on you. I don’t want you working yourself into the ground. You’ve got enough crap to deal with. You’ve got college to ace, a sex hunk boyfriend to ravage. I’m not your responsibility,” she said quietly.

I smiled at her. “Newsflash. You’re my best friend. You’re the only family I’ve got left. I’m taking care of us,” I told her firmly. “And to do that, I’ve got to go get ready for work,” I continued. And before she could argue, I rushed into my room to change so I could make it to work.

It was hours later when I had tried to distract myself from being dead on my feet and field lame pickup lines from sleazy guys that I thought of the answer to our problems.

Mom’s house. A lawyer had called days ago about her
“estate.”
Not that there was anything left. Bank accounts were all but drained from medical bills, and what little that was left I spent on her funeral. The only thing she had left was her house. I didn’t think of that before. I couldn’t. I couldn’t go back to the place I’d grown up in after we escaped my father. The place that held so much happiness within its walls. Now it was a tomb, a tomb of memories that would haunt me if I went in there. But I had to. If I wanted to continue college without failing, I had to cut down hours at the bar. I couldn’t do that if I had to keep paying rent for the place we were in now. Unlike Bex, I had a rainy day fund. One that would be dry when I had to cover the both of us. But if we moved to the house my mom owned, my house, we wouldn’t have to worry about rent. I just had to find a way to walk through the front doors without being ripped apart by the memories within its walls.