7. Jade
Jade
Murder.
That’s all I can see in Asher’s pale eyes as he stares between me and my phone. I watch his fingers grip a little tighter as he reads on, and his chest heaves faster as he becomes more frustrated.
Well, more like enraged.
His eyes flash to mine and he stares me down. It feels like forever that we stare at each other before he exhales roughly.
“Are you safe at home?” He asks this with no finesse, no hesitation. Just straight to the point.
“Yes,” I say immediately. The rehearsed half-truth comes naturally, but I subconsciously move to cover myself.
“Jade,” he growls, stepping closer into my space. So close, my breathing quickens with a mixture of fear and want. “Do. You. Feel. Safe?”
Standing straighter, our chests touch, but I’m not going to be pushed around. This guy… Asher, he seems like he’d never lay a hand on a woman to harm them.
I have a good radar for that by now.
I don’t shy away from him. In fact, I lean closer.
“That’s none of your business.”
His nostrils flare up with indignation and he looks around quickly. I note both Ty and Roxie are gawking at us, like we’re their new favorite soap opera and all they’re missing is the popcorn. Mr. Guzman actually looks like he’s fallen asleep. Asher grabs my arm, and I panic.
I scramble out of his arms and rush backwards until I hit the front desk. My chest tightens, and my body jerks even though my mind knows that Asher won’t hurt me.
“Jade, wait,” he pleads while trying to follow me.
Roxie is much quicker, standing between us with her hands up in front of her. “Hold it,” she barks.
“Roxie, you don’t understand.” Stuttering, Asher tries to step forward again, but Roxie doesn’t budge. “I’d never, I didn’t… Jade, I’m sorry,” he insists.
His eyes meet mine and regret is clear on his face.
I huff in embarrassment. “It’s fine, oh my god, it’s nothing.” I shake my head and try to dispel this fear. It’s misplaced and makes me feel out of control. Like I’m crazy for reacting this way when he’s only ever helped me. Tears prick my eyes, but I straighten my shoulders. “God, Asher, I’m sorry,” I insist.
Roxie nods at me and I see an understanding flash in her eyes. She steps aside and Asher rushes to me. “Can we please talk in the back?” he begs.
“Sure. Yes,” I nod.
“If Guzman wakes up, tell him I need to sort out some things and his last hour is on me,” Asher throws out over his shoulder before guiding me to the back, leaving at least a foot of space between us.
Closing the door behind him, Asher turns so we are facing each other, and I have to apologize.
“I don’t know why I did that. I’m so sorry! Fuck, I’m so embarrassed,” I mumble as a stray tear falls down my cheek. It’s been so fucking exhausting. So hard.
I try to sit down, but the chair scrapes along the floor loudly. I set my head down on the table with all the food on it, still untouched from when Asher bought it.
“No, Jade. No.” Asher sits down gently, and I look up at the sound of his voice. His hand snakes out, like he wants to touch me again, but doesn’t.
And that’s all my fault. Shit.
“You have nothing to be sorry for or embarrassed about. I’m the one that’s sorry. I shouldn’t have grabbed your arm out of nowhere—or at all. I just want us to talk about how fucking completely awful your mother is and what I can do to help. I got mad—I am mad—but not at you,” Asher explained sincerely.
“I don’t know what happened,” I admit softly. “I… I trust that you’re not going to hurt me, but the moment you grabbed me like that, I jolted and ran. I know it wasn’t like last night, but it’s like my body didn’t know it.” I pull at the roots of my hair. What is wrong with me? Why is this all happening at once? Or at all?
Clutching my hair, I drop my head to the table with a painful thunk .
“Jade,” Asher says softly, almost a whisper. “There is no right or wrong way to handle what you’re feeling. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s valid.”
Lifting my head slowly, our eyes meet, and I can see how much he means it.
“I’m so embarrassed that happened in front of everyone,” I lament, covering my face in my hands.
“Oh, you can’t be embarrassed in front of those two. They’re insane,” he chuckles. “Roxie understands. I understand. Ty would too, if he knew.” He believes in his found little family so much, I can’t help but be jealous.
“Anyway,” I sniffle and sit up straighter, trying to change the subject. Fuck, my life is such a mess. “You wanted to say something before?”
“Ah,” Asher sighs, sitting back. He rubs the back of his neck and then leans forward on his elbows on the table. “I just got really angry that your mother thinks of you like that. That she said those things to you, about you. It’s just disgusting of her ,” he sneers, clenching his jaw as he speaks. “I wanted to talk to you in private so we could make a plan.”
“We?” I repeat, cocking my head to the side.
“Yes, we,” Asher repeats, as if this is just a conversation about the weather. “Haven’t I already said that I’m here to help?”
I drop my hands to the table loudly. “Do you even know what you’re suggesting? What you’re offering?” I question, my voice sounding foreign.
“To be honest, not exactly.” Well, I can give him credit for being upfront. Asher runs a hand through his dark hair. “But I do know that I want to help. Let me drive you home, or you can crash at my place again tonight if you need time away from your mom.”
“Why are you doing this?” I ask, my voice strained. “I know you told me there are good people in the world, but that’s maybe buying a meal, letting someone crash at your place, intervening when necessary. But you’re offering to help even though you could easily just wash your hands of me and this bullshit. So why?”
Asher sighs and folds his hands together, looking down at his fingers.
“Look, there are some things in my past that… have hit close to home with your situation. I don’t like talking about that shit. Just trust me when I tell you I’m being genuine in my offer to help, in any way I can. There’s nothing wrong with having a true friend,” he surmises.
Scrutinizing him, looking into his eyes, I’m struck again with how I do believe him.
“You’re telling me the truth, aren’t you?” I confirm.
“Yes,” he says and nods.
Sighing, I know I need to accept his help. My mother has all but kicked me out, and if I’m being brutally honest, I’d rather move as far away from that woman as soon as possible.
“Can you drive me back to my mom’s house later? I need to pack and decide where to stay before classes start. If I even go to college at all.” I try not to sound like I’m looking for pity, but I’m devastated.
Asher’s eyebrows shoot up. “Do you not want to go?”
Shrugging, I say, “I really don’t know… but I do know I want out of that house. Away from someone who thinks I’m no better than a chivying bitch out to hurt others.”
“You do realize that if you go home today, she might be… worse?” The way he says it sounds like a question. Like he knows just as well as I do that the moment I step through that door, my mother is going to become someone unrecognizable. I know that. If she was able to send me those things, there’s no doubt in my mind that she is more than willing to spit them at me violently as I actively ignore her.
“I know,” I agree solemnly. “But what choice do I really have?”
Asher shakes his head in frustration but relents. “Fine, I’ll drive you tonight after I’m finished with Guzman.” He stands up, huffing in annoyance. I don’t know him well, but even I can tell his annoyance is due to the fact that his hands are basically tied. There’s nothing for him to do.
“Thank you again.” I grab his hand as he turns to leave, bringing his attention back to me. “For your kindness.”
Asher turns to face me, and slowly, softly, cups my cheek with his free hand. His rough, tattooed palm is astonishingly gentle against my skin as he caresses my cheekbone.
With a subtle nod, he rips his hand away and turns, leaving the back room before I can say anything else.
Or ask what the hell that was.
* * *
“Is Asher a…good guy?” I ask Roxie, not looking at her but instead keeping my eyes on Asher as he’s hunched over Mr. Guzman’s arm. He’s working intently, trying to finish the tattoo I’ve so annoyingly interrupted like three times.
Roxie’s sitting at her desk, working on her own design for something and god, it’s beautiful. A koi fish wrapped around the outline of an arm, with waves curling around and florals interwoven. She’s done it in thick lines that look like the other kind of older tattoos I’ve seen. She’s shading the colors when I walk up and lean against her desk.
“The best, actually,” she answers without looking up. “Why?”
“So, if he offers something, he’s not just saying it?” I ask as nonchalantly as possible.
Roxie puts the orange-colored pencil down and glances at me with a raised, pierced eyebrow and a quizzical expression. Crossing her arms over her chest, she cocks her head to the side, looking at me like she’s trying to figure me out.
“Let’s go get a drink,” she suggests, standing abruptly and grabbing her bag.
“Ashe, Ty! Jade and I are heading out for a coffee. We’ll be back later. Don’t miss us too much,” Roxie announces to the room, and both guys barely look her way.
“But do you—” Asher starts to ask something, but Roxie just tsks her tongue at him. He sighs, pulling back from Mr. Guzman and wiping his arm before looking up at us. “When will you be back?” he asks instead.
“We’ll be back when we’re done,” Roxie states firmly with a flip of her hair before pulling me along.
Asher looks at me with a question in his eyes, clear as day. Are you okay with this? I nod and give him what I hope is a reassuring smile.
“Okay,” he says reluctantly with a nod. Those blue eyes make me feel protected and strong once again. “Call me if you need me.”
I know he’s talking to me, but Roxie answers him. “Will do, big bro!” she chimes, then rolls her eyes and pulls me out the front door. The bell dings above us and she takes a deep breath of the warm early-summer air.
“Is Asher actually your brother?” I ask, gesturing to him with my thumb through the painted glass of the front window. It’s a gorgeous phoenix, rising from smoke with its wings spread. Its colors are magnificent. It looks like someone took paint and literally created the design on the window, but I saw some merch inside with the same logo. Either way, it’s amazing. I follow Roxie down the street as she laughs boisterously, throwing her head back and letting the sound out joyfully into the world.
“No! No. He acts like it enough, though.” She smiles and continues, “You know the whole story; he took me in and helped me become the kick-ass tattoo artist I am today. And now he thinks he has to protect me all the time. Just like a stray he’s adopted. Proudly, I might add.”
“Oh,” I say softly. My eyebrows inch together as I process the new information. Is that what he’s doing with me?
Downtown Carver is quaint. It’s a small town whose only real traffic comes from the college. The downtown area is older and more antique, with shops and restaurants to try and entice tourists. The tattoo shop is actually in the perfect spot along the long strip of West 3 rd Street—Carver’s ‘Main Street.’ It’s right in the middle with dedicated parking spots, instead of making patrons park two blocks down in a public parking lot.
I can imagine this place at Christmas. All the shop windows would be frosted over and adorned with lights. Wreathes on the lamp posts. I bet it’s beautiful.
Roxie stops and opens a door for me, ushering me inside. This must be the diner. It’s busy, filled with people in almost every booth and even some sitting at the bar, chatting with the cook at the grill. It’s loud, and it smells heavenly. Just like the meal I ate way too much of earlier today.
“Roxanne!” a musically deep voice rings out, cutting through the other conversations.
“Harriet, you know I hate it when you call me that,” Roxie groans, but reluctantly hugs the sweet Black woman who demands one from her wordlessly.
“Oh shush, I’ve known you since you were a baby, and you lived with me for a year! I’m going to call you what I’m going to call you.” Harriet smirks proudly at Roxie before turning to me. “And who might you be?”
“Harriet, this is Jade. Another From The Ashes recruit.” Roxie smiles widely at me.
“Oh, no, I’m just… Jade,” I finish lamely, not actually knowing what else I was going to say.
“Well, ‘just Jade,’” Harriet smiles at me welcomingly, “you’re always welcome here. And if you’re hanging out with those kids down the street, you’ll be just fine. I know it. Hell, I’ve seen it.” She chuckles, taking two menus and handing them to Roxie, then pointing us to the open back booth.
“Go on, now.” Harriet waves us along, and I can’t help but feel seen. She has this aura, this energy, that you can’t quite ignore—nor do you want to.
“We better do as she says, or she’ll get cranky.” Roxie walks away, waving to people left and right before sliding into one side of the booth.
“You know everyone,” I muse.
“When you’ve lived here your whole life, move from place to place as a foster kiddo and wind up raised a little bit by everyone, there’s one or two good people you gain in your life.” Roxie explains.
Nodding, I curl my lips together, not knowing how to respond. My upbringing was comfortable, plush and filled with necessary, albeit materialistic, things. But my dad wasn’t in the picture, and my mom continues to blame me for it. So, my moving away is a dream come true for her. I doubt I’ll hear much from her once I leave.
“Good riddance,” Roxie retorts, scoffing at what I must have said out loud. My cheeks burn with a blush. I didn’t mean to get that deep with someone I barely know, no matter how well we already seem to get on. “Seriously, life is much too short to be surrounded by people who drain your peace.”
“Even if they’re blood?”
“Especially if they’re blood.” Roxie nods, waving over a college-aged girl with an apron on, and orders coffee for us. “Wait,” she paused, halfway through ordering, “do you drink coffee?”
Normally, I’d say it’s fine and choke down the liquid, but Roxie’s given me confidence and a hell of a lot to think about in the few hours I’ve known her.
“I really don’t, actually. Can I just have a Coke?” I order, sitting up straighter with a cautious grin.
Roxie smirks and nods at the waitress, waiting for her to leave before turning to face me. I can tell she is dying to ask the burning questions I know she has.
“Look…” Roxie clears her throat and lowers her voice. “I know we just met, so I don’t expect you to tell me every little thing about your life or what you’ve gone through. I’m an open book, and I totally get that not everyone is like that. But… I can see you’re struggling a little, and your energy…” She waves both hands in my face. “Your whole aura is muted.”
I shake my head and feel myself deflate. “I don’t know what you mean,” I try to persuade her.
“Ah, but you do.” Roxie narrows an eye at me accusingly. “And like I said, you don’t have to tell me. But I did notice something before; something I’ve been through myself and want to offer some help if you want.”
I swallow, looking at her suspiciously. “What do you mean?”
Roxie holds my gaze and says, “You jumped and ran from Asher when he moved toward you too quickly.” I drop my gaze to the table, wanting to ignore all of this already. “That was a very specific type of jump; one that only someone who has gone through it too knows what it is from.” My eyes flash up to her as she speaks, and I nod. Roxie looks at me with concern. “Was it Asher?”
My face blanches and I jump to his defense. “No, no! Absolutely not. Asher… he found me… after.” I can barely get the words out.
“Oh god.” Roxie covers her mouth with her hand. “Well, thank fucking god.”
What?
My face must speak for me because Roxie immediately backtracks. “I just meant thank god it wasn’t Asher. I’d have to castrate him myself.” She shakes her head. “I’m not going to push for more information but just know I’m here if you need someone to talk to. Especially someone who knows what you’re going through and how hard it is. Asher is great, but he’s fully in protector mode.”
“Thank you,” I reply meekly. Our waitress comes over with our drinks, giving me a moment to think about what to do. Should I confide in her and hope she won’t fuck me over like every other person I’ve tried to trust?
“Thanks, Leslie,” Roxie says, taking a sip of the coffee. I unwrap my straw and take a sip of my drink, enjoying the small sugar rush. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to tell you about what happened to me. Maybe that will help you be a little more at peace, knowing you’re not completely alone. I wish I’d had someone there for me,” she admits quietly. Her normal confidence and charm is suddenly gone as she gets lost in the past.
I shake my head vehemently. “I don’t… I can’t… Please, no details,” I urge. I get what she’s saying. I understand why she’s offering. But I just don’t know if I can hear ‘exacts.’ Not after what I went through.
“Of course,” Roxie agrees kindly, patting my hand. “I don’t want to make things harder for you, so if it’s too much, just let me know. I won’t be offended.” She wraps both hands around her coffee mug, as if to absorb the warmth. “I was young, probably a little younger than you are, and I was on my own for the first time. He was someone I met in a bar I’d gotten into with my fake ID, and we’d been flirting all night. At the end of the night when I decided I’d had enough and wanted to go home, I said goodbye and paid my tab, but this guy… he didn’t like that. He said I ‘owed him’ for taking up his evening. That I was asking for it all night and he was deserving .” She scoffs and my jaw drops. “I thought I could fight him off, but he was so much stronger than I was. The drinks didn’t help, and as I was trying to get out of the bar, he followed me and grabbed my arm. No one helped, no one cared—they just watched this guy manhandle me. No one did a goddamned thing.” Roxie’s eyes mist over at the memory, and I nod, biting my lip to keep from saying anything.
“After it happened, I sobered up and ran off. I felt disgusting, used, gross. I just wanted out of my skin. Everyone who looked at me posed a threat; everyone who offered me kindness wanted something else. It took me a long time not to jump like you did any time someone rushed towards me.”
“I couldn’t help it,” I whisper.
“Neither could I. It still happens every once in a while, and it’s out of my control. It’s a self-defense thing; your body and mind trying to protect themselves. Nothing to be ashamed of.” Roxie puts a warm hand on my forearm before tipping her lips up in a sad smile. “Trust and decency are hard to come by, but even harder after you’ve been violated like that.”
“Yeah,” I mutter frustratedly.
“Is that why you were asking if Asher is a good guy?”
I nod, taking another sip.
“Like I said, Asher is a protector. It’s all he’s ever known really. That’s not to say the guy is a saint. He fights and has beaten the shit out of people, but they’ve always deserved it. He drinks and fucks around when he feels the urge, but he’d never lay a hand on a woman if they were unwilling. The biggest thing I’ve learned about Asher in all the years I’ve known him is that if he says something, he means it.”
A sigh of relief that I didn’t know I was holding leaves my body and tears line my eyes.
“I’m just so tired,” I sigh, the tears and watery emotion clear in my voice.
“Oh honey, I know.” Roxie takes my hand in hers. “I know. ”
I can’t hold back my thoughts anymore. “I don’t know who to trust. My mother is horrible. The girl I went to the party with is telling lies and I’m sure my whole town knows it. Asher is here, offering me help and I don’t want to inconvenience him, but I also don’t know what else to do. I have two weeks before the dorms open and I don’t even think I want to go to college. My mom just pushed me towards it, and I thought it was the next logical step.”
“Okay, okay.” Roxie waves both hands in front of her in a ‘this-is-too-much’ motion. “Those are all things in the future. You need to focus smaller—one thing at a time. First things first, getting your shit and getting to the dorms. I assume you want to move there because it’s paid for already?” she asks.
I nod, feeling a pang of anxiety starting to form in my chest.
“Then that’s your first step. Go home, pack your shit, ignore everything , and get here. Once you’re in Carver, Asher, Ty and I can help you with anything you need.”
“Why?” I ask, yet again. “Why do you guys’ care? Why are you putting yourselves out on a limb to help someone you barely know? Why? ”
Roxie smiles warmly. “I’m helping you because you seem like a cool person who just needs a little support. I don’t have many friends, especially not girlfriends, but I think you and I could become besties. It’s a win-win.” She shrugs.
“You… want to be friends with me?” I ask incredulously. No one wants to be friends with me. This whole situation came from being forced into creating a friendship with someone.
“I do.” She smiles brightly.
“I don’t really know how to be friends with people.” What a fucking embarrassing thing to admit to someone.
“That’s okay. Me either. But I think the first step is getting a drink and talking about our troubles.” Roxie raises her coffee cup to me in cheers. I lift my cup and clink against hers.
“So, what are you going to school for?” she asks, taking a sip and relaxing back into the booth, like we’re two friends just catching up.
“What do I want to go for or what am I enrolled for?”
“Oh, there’s a story.” Her eyebrows raise as she continues, “But I want to know what you want to do. Fuck whatever anyone else wants you to do.”
A true smile crosses my face. “Art, actually,” I share honestly.
“What a coincidence that you’ve met some people who happen to be really badass at all things artistic!” Roxie smirks and winks at me, and I know then that I can trust these people.