The Confidant

Chapter Two

Adelaide

The next few days are slow. Flash pieces only. My cohort in all things tattoo and piercings is noticing the trend and getting antsy. Not that his being all over the place is unusual.

Damon stands with me at the counter, and as time passes, we both pout.

The bell goes off, and we straighten up like a pair of unruly kids getting busted doing something wrong.

A man with a golden tan strides in and glances around in confusion. He has aqua contacts, and his hair is so golden it seems more like metal than hair. If his neon pink shoes didn’t steal his thunder, the bright Hawaiian shirt he’s wearing would.

“Huh. This isn’t it. Wrong dimension?” He mutters to himself absently.

Damon and I share a confused glance. The minor movement seems to draw his attention to us.

“Oh, hi! Sorry to interrupt your book. I won’t see you later.”

He waves with a slightly demented grin and leaves.

“Uh, should we call someone?” Damon asks with a wary, concerned look.

“Meh, leave him be. No violence, no problems,” I remind him, and prop my chin on my hand to continue the boredom.

When Damon finally goes to the breakroom-slash-office to grab a soda, I reach under the counter and glance at the tablet again.

Poe Richards.

Gladiolus himself.

His Maman must have had a thing for tragic poets. I guess he’s lucky she didn’t name him Shakespeare.

I’ve already sketched him about five times since I saw him last. The memory of him hasn’t faded into the background yet. I’m worried that it might be taking up permanent residence in my head, and it isn’t paying rent.

“I can’t believe you didn’t take a single picture,” Damon pipes up from my side, catching me for the millionth time daydreaming about the guy.

I didn’t want to put him on display and reveal his scars. I barely took the pictures of Asher that I did. He insisted that they were my best work and needed to be seen. The unusual request made me submit like nothing else could.

The bell rings, and we both stand at attention too quickly again.

Damon settles back with a practiced, professional smile of welcome.

I can’t catch my breath.

It’s Gladiolus in the fine flesh, looking hot as hell.

“Good afternoon,” Damon speaks first.

I want to snap that he’s mine, but I stifle it just in time.

It’s a different man who walks in than the last time. No hiding his features behind his hair or staring at the floor. Instead of the grubby clothes he wore before, he’s in a sleek white button-up shirt. Silky with a few buttons undone. Not trashy low, just enough to expose the hollow of his throat and the beginnings of his collarbones. It’s sheer enough that I can see a faint hint of the tattoo’s colors on his side. A pair of black slacks and shiny shoes complete the outfit. He’s gone from possible hooligan to fancy artist in the blink of an eye.

The confidence looks good on him, but his slight smile falters and goes away as he looks between us. He stopped moving a few steps past the door to stand stiffly. His expression is closing down to keep his thoughts to himself. The change is concerning to me.

“Hey. Everything ok?” I frown as his shoulders start to stiffen a bit.

“Yes.” He says in a flat tone.

That doesn’t feel like the truth. He sounds irritated. As if he had been interrupted during an important speech.

Damon looks at me in confusion.

I’m at a loss, too. But I don’t want my Gladiolus acting awkward in my safe space. He can find someplace else if he needs a moment to wilt. Maybe a little humor will knock him back into those fancy shoes of his.

“Good thing you’re here,” I tease with a wide grin. “My coworker has been pissed that I won’t tell him about your piece.”

He blinks slowly and gives the pierced man next to me his full attention.

Damon looks all kinds of uncomfortable as Poe’s eyes narrow on him. He studies him like he’s memorizing him, from his bright purple mohawk to the million piercings on his face. He doesn’t seem to like what he sees.

“Careful now,” I taunt him with a laugh. “Damon might think you want your nipples pierced.”

His eyes snap back to me, and he frowns a tiny bit before he steps to the counter with his confident stride.

“What’s wrong?” I go into business mode to look over his side for any obvious problems. “You hurting bad or red?”

“No.”

The return of his lowered, intimate tone helps me relax, easing my concern. My eyes meet his again, and that tug hits me right in the chest. A little stronger this time.

“Then you got any good gossip?” I raise a brow with a smirk.

The tension in him completely fades until his lips manage a slight curl.

“That’s better, cher,” I nod and brace my elbows on the counter again. “You feel comfortable showing him your piece?”

“No.” The slight smile doesn’t fade, but the denial is firm.

“You heard it from the man himself, Damon. None of your business,” I glance at my friend’s pout with a smug look.

“Damn. I’m convinced now. Going behind your curtain is like going to a confessional,” Damon gives me a dark look and goes to his section to start sketching. I don’t pay any attention to him, focusing on the enigma in front of me.

“No jokes now, cher . Are you feeling okay?” I keep my concern low, so it’s a private discussion even though Damon has parked himself not far away.

“Yes,” he braces his elbows on the counter across from me, bringing our faces closer together. I don’t have the will to back away, and my eyes have a mind of their own. I’m staring at his lips without a thought in my head before I snap out of it. When I look away, he speaks again.

“I want another one.”

I give him a look of disbelief, already shaking my head. “You got a fever for it now?”

“Something like that,” his eyes coast over my face, and my pulse speeds up.

“Not yet,” I tell him firmly. My voice has a little shake to it, but my mind is made up. It’s been two days since his last one, and he needs to heal up more before we start again. I’m not budging even if he’s looking at me like I’m edible.

“Ok,” he answers easily, as if this wasn’t something he was pouting over the last time I saw him.

We stare at each other over the short distance. The longer our eyes stay steady on each other, the worse the tug in my chest gets. I thought it was my imagination before but seeing him again proves me wrong.

Damon clears his throat loudly, but I ignore him with a smirk.

“When does he leave?” Poe asks with the slightest hint of mockery.

My eyes widen at his question. He’s gotten braver since Damon walked away. Like he thinks we’re in a private bubble at the counter, and Damon won’t hear him. Or he doesn’t care if he does.

“Bold man,” I whisper as a grin creeps up on me.

“Uh, when I’m ready to,” Damon has the grace to laugh over it. He’s got a great sense of humor. It helps get me through my darker days. I’m not easy to work with, and Damon is the only one who’s stuck it out with me.

“Be nice,” I tease Poe softly. “He’s my best friend.”

“Good.” The firm word makes Damon scoff behind me. We both ignore him, our eyes steady on each other.

Did he think Damon was my boyfriend? Is that what all the crankiness was about? My heart flutters at the thought.

“I’m liking this boldness you got going on,” my grin can’t be stopped. “It looks good on you. Just like everything else.”

He’s gone from a hot mess to absolutely hot in a few days. I think I might have had a hand in it, and it gives me the warm fuzzies all over. I can feel Damon's surprised stare at my blatant flirting.

“You never asked,” his voice drops to a whisper, and his eyes flit between mine.

I know what he means as soon as he says it. The scars. I didn’t push for details.

“I never will, cher,” I assure him, my grin fading. “Some things don’t need a discussion. And they aren’t to be gossiped over like nothing.”

His expression goes somber, his stare somehow becoming more intense. “That’s experience talking.”

“I know a few people,” I hedge, my eyes dropping away from his.

I don’t consider my personal scars an experience like his or Asher’s. Mine are self-inflicted, not an act of aggression. I can admit that I have some experience with his type of trauma, but not anything else.

I’m not spilling the secrets of the little brother that might not have made it to age ten while I was worried about boys and if my boobs would show up.

Shame and guilt hit me all over again. My old friends are coming for a visit, and I’m hoping they don’t decide to overstay their welcome this time. I never liked the way antidepressants made me feel. I’d rather stay off them for a bit longer, if possible.

“Hey.”

My wandering attention returns to him, a little miffed at the interruption of my wallowing in self-pity that I don’t deserve.

He doesn’t say anything else, holding my attention with just his eyes and his silence. The feelings take a back seat as I study him. Something about that emerald and blue gaze makes a connection click inside me. It soothes everything while shaking me up at the same time.

The bell above the door gets ignored this time. My brain is too busy racing around chasing its tail to comprehend it. Is he…

Damon hops up in a rush to run a hand over his hair. A woman, for sure.

“I’m looking for Addie?” A woman asks in a taunting tone.

Another Ash handoff? She seems the type. One of his yoga class ladies, based on her casual exercise outfit.

I bite my lower lip and keep quiet. Poe’s eyes go to my lips and linger. Darken.

“She’s with a client right now,” Damon assures her with a bright smile. “How can I help you?”

“I have a card? I was hoping to get a flower for myself.”

Poe turns, breaking our connection. She eyes him with a subtle smile, and he stares back. She isn’t shy about it, the usual type that Ash sends my way. Usually, I don’t mind the blatant flirting that will follow the look. This time, it sets my teeth on edge.

“Hi,” she starts off small and gets closer to Poe as she hands Damon the card.

Poe doesn’t answer, giving her the same thorough once-over he gave me when he walked in. I try to be subtle about backing away from him, the moment gone in an instant. That connection broke as soon as his eyes turned away.

Probably for the best, despite the sting to my heart. I was getting ideas about him, and I shouldn’t.

I doubt my One, my soulmate, would just casually walk through the door to my shop on a boring Saturday. Or be intently staring at another woman right in front of me, like the intimacy of a second ago was nothing to him.

I glance at Damon, who gives Poe a dirty glare for stealing the attention. I jerk my chin to the back room, and his expression drops to a wince.

I’m not wasting time on a fight for attention. That never goes well with a man, in my experience. Besides, he’s getting into the swing of being confident. I can’t be too mad about that. At least, I shouldn’t. I can pout in privacy.

I don’t shut the door all the way to keep an ear out for customers. I do relax back with a soda and prop my feet up on the chair opposite me. I play a game on my phone, so my mind is consumed with something other than him for five seconds.

I can hear the faint murmur of conversation and try to tune it out. The sound of Damon doing a tattoo starts to become the white noise that helps me focus on the game.

An hour later, the bell goes off once and then again quickly after. Damon rushes through the door with wide eyes.

“He is fucking pissed.”

My brows furrow as I drop my feet for him to sit down.

“Who?” I lean forward to see my empty shop.

“Your boyfriend, that’s who. He waited for you to come back, and you never did. She asked me to leave the partition open and took her shirt off like she was showing him the goods. He didn’t even look. He shot her moves down with no mercy.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I protest weakly as pleased surprise runs through me.

He had her in the bag from the first look, and he turned her down? Not my usual experience with a guy. Poe gets more interesting with every encounter. The relief that cascades through me is alarming. I fall into relationships fast, but this is a new record for me.

“Yeah,” Damon’s eyes widen as he gets into the gossip. “You walked, and she started up with him. He didn’t say anything at all. Then he turned, saw you bailed, and he got mad.”

“How do you mean?” I ask warily.

There are a lot of different types of mad. A lot of dangerous types, too.

“Like he stood there waiting with zero expression. It’s like we stopped existing. I was sure his laser eyes were going to burn the door down so he could see you. Then she put her hand on him to get his attention, and he gave her the coldest go fuck yourself look I’ve ever seen. Even Asher doesn’t have the balls for that. Does she back off? Hell no.”

The ones that Ash hands that card to are like that. Flirty and confident to a fault. Their emotional armor is thin, though. Thus, the card with the brush off. That way, they don’t leave totally empty-handed. The ones that stay for a tattoo complain about Ash nonstop until I want to smack them. Damon has gotten into the habit of doing their tattoos to keep them away from me. And scope out single chicks.

Damon interrupts my wandering thoughts.

“He stands there like a damn gargoyle, and she gets a tiny rose on her lower back, talking the whole time about how available she is,” Damon rolls his eyes with a smirk. Then he tosses down the card she gave him, and I see her number written down. “I’m second choice on this one.”

“Poor baby,” I laugh breathlessly, suddenly lighter as I contemplate. Does this mean what I hope it means? Is he into me and coming back to snatch me up? Do I want to struggle?

“Yeah, I’m not calling. He left, and she went right after him. They were on the sidewalk for a total of point two seconds before she walked away in a huff.”

I wonder what he said?

“I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed someone yell no like a woman was a barking dog before. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it. The man is a junkyard dog, and you’re his bone.”

No. His favorite word. It was rude, sure, but it has my stamp of approval.

“He’s gone now, so you’re safe to go up front,” he finishes and steals what’s left of my soda.

“Honest opinion?” I toss at him as we retake our seats at the counter.

“Hot. Damaged. Obsessed,” he puts a lot of emphasis on the last word with a knowing look. “Count your panties when you get home because I’m sure you’re going to be missing a few pairs soon.”

“That’s dark romance book stuff,” I scoff. I feel a trickle of guilty delight at the thought.

“He’s dark romance book stuff,” Damon gives me wide eyes. “He had me wondering if I’m batting for the wrong team. I want that kind of intensity, too, damn it.”

“You’ll get there,” I pat him on the shoulder in commiseration. Meanwhile, I’m giddy as hell.

Could he be the one?

Instant attraction? Oh yes. But, anything else?

The thought stymies me. I don’t know him. He’s barely spoken to me despite his attention. Something that feels natural when he’s right in front of me. A little creepy when he’s not, and my brain starts overthinking everything. I’ve had a few heartbreaks. Who hasn’t? I’m pretty sure, with my weakness whenever he’s around, he could break it easily.

I go back and forth in my head, weighing the pros and cons of something that might never happen. Before I know it, it’s past four o’clock, and no one else has come in. This is worse than a slow day. It’s a nonexistent day.

I end up sending Damon home and closing early. Then I stand outside staring into the windows of my shop with a sad sigh. I’m pathetic.

Good things end just as easily as bad ones. I’m just disappointed that my pride and joy has to be closed. I feel like I barely got started here, and it’s already over. Four years was a good run. I can find another safe space to hang out.

All good things to tell myself that don’t perk up my mood in the slightest.

“Dinner?”

I jump in surprise and spin around.

Asher watches my heart attack with a muted smile. I swear he’s determined to scare me to death. Paybacks for all the pranks I pull on him.

From his messy blond hair to his torn-up running shoes, he’s a familiar and welcome sight after the day’s dull closing events. I barely see him now that he has his angel and the two other pieces that make up the cake of his life.

I’m convinced that Ash is the slightly too-firm cake, his angel is the filling, and the other two men are the frosting and sprinkles to add more sweetness to the deal.

Asher says they’re the ball and chain of his relationship, but I know he doesn’t mean it. They balance him out. Take some of the weight off his shoulders. He can’t hide that from me. Besides, he likes them just fine if they’re still above ground.

“Damn it, Asher!”

My surprise to see him after a few weeks of being MIA is tempered by my disappointment. I was hoping that the invitation would come from someone else.

Like Poe would stick around to wait for me to get off work. That’s a little crazy since I’ve seen him twice, and he doesn’t even know my name. But the hope was still there.

I deflect those negative thoughts by harassing my little bro.

“I thought your angel, whom I still haven’t met, by the way, consumed your every waking hour. No time for dinners with your big sis and fat crocodile tears.” I give him a fake sniffle to really sell the depression.

“She’s pregnant.”

My jaw drops, the sad act following. I don’t know which emotion to settle on. There’s panic. My baby brother’s girlfriend is pregnant. And elation. My baby brother’s girlfriend is pregnant!

I have to take a deep breath before I explode with emotions. For once, Ash looks just as dumbstruck as any other guy would. Under it all is a glow of sheer happiness I never thought I would see. A few tears escape me, and I yank him to me so I can hug the crap out of him.

“Congratulations!”

“I’m right next to you. Stop screaming,” he grits out, his arms stiff at his sides.

He doesn’t return the hug. I know he doesn’t like being touched by anyone, but I can’t help myself. I love the little jerk, and one day, he will hug me back. I know it. I’ve been working on it for a long time.

He shows no signs of relenting in his no-touching zone. It hurts in a poking the bruise way I’ve sadly gotten used to.

I let him go to gush in excitement, hiding away that slight sting of rejection.

“Boy? Girl? Is she ok? What do you need? Can I meet her now?”

The rush of questions is never-ending, and he endures it in his usual cold style. I’m so excited I’m bouncing around like a raccoon.

“It’s too early to tell. I don’t need anything, and you’re the first person I’ve told, so keep it to yourself.”

I stop my mini celebration in horror. We’ve entered scary movie territory now.

He hasn’t told Maman? What is he thinking? Our mother is a force to be reckoned with. I’m way too familiar with that fact.

“Why is it a big secret? You’re excited and everybody should know it,” I probe a little deeper in case I’m missing something.

“I do not want our entire family down here poking their noses into my weird relationship status,” he tells me with a scowl. “It’s hard enough keeping everyone from bombarding me already.”

I frown at the news. Not that I’m surprised he doesn’t want everybody getting uncomfortably close to his secrets. But the fact that he still sees his relationship as odd. That’s a recipe for disaster if I ever heard one.

He may not be over the moon in love with Frosting and Sprinkles, but he can’t make them disappear either. I don’t think he’s seeing the full potential he has at his fingertips.

“I can understand that,” I say, feeling my way through this mess with a blindfold and hoping for the best. “Do you have a problem accepting them?”

He gives me a frosted over look that says he’s bored with this topic.

Too bad. I’m older and I’m pulling rank.

I pretend not to see the not-subtle hint to change the subject. “Then what’s the problem? It’s not like the family can affect your life all the way down here. You’re a pro at ignoring phone calls. Let them fuss all they like. It won’t change how your dynamics work.”

His gaze drops to the sidewalk as he thinks about it. His slow digestion of emotion takes a lot of focus, so I leave him to it. He can listen, or not.

It’s always been this way with Ash. He makes his own decisions. I’m proud of that fact, even when I want to smack him on the back of the head when he acts stupid.

The diner down the street is usually where we end up for dinner. We have to pass by the newest tattoo shop to get there.

It’s busy inside. Four people are working, and two more customers are waiting at the counter. I try my hardest not to look, but it’s impossible. All around me, the business is thriving. Yet I’m shutting down with barely any money.

I shake my morose thoughts aside. This is the time to celebrate, not be negative.

We eat and have a great time. I’ve missed him since he found his soulmate. I couldn’t be happier for him, though. It’s nice to see him so helpless with emotion and to know that he has them for once. I thought it was all bottled-up angst, but it’s so much more. He’s finally blooming.

The only problem is he wants to keep them all to himself and hasn’t taken the plunge into letting us meet them.

“Be honest,” I tell him as he walks me home. I’m within walking distance of everything, so it’s not a big hardship. “Are you ashamed of us?”

The frosty glare he gives me doesn’t help.

“We should have met them long before this, and you know it, Ash,” I scowl back. “They probably think we all hate them. Meanwhile, Suzette is painting things to celebrate, and Daniella has a wedding venue picked out for you. I swear she’s got the thing paid up, and there’s a bet between her and Sophia on what date you’ll pick.”

“I don’t want them hearing stories.”

That drops me flat. I can’t really fight him on that. He has a right to his privacy, and most of our family are nosy busybodies. A few family members think sharing his story with others is a great idea. They don’t see his closed-off expression when they do it. The anger that bubbles up at their overshare of information.

Ash thinks it makes him look weak. A victim. He doesn’t want people reminding him of the things he’s gone through. I don’t blame him one bit. I try to minimize that damage as much as I can, but there’s only so much I can do.

“I don’t tell stories,” I offer helplessly.

He looks me over but doesn’t say anything. It hurts me more than I’ll ever tell him.

“Have you talked about it with them?” I press cautiously. He’s opened up to me a lot while he got his tattoos. Things that make me want to cry and rage. I think I’m the only one with more of a better scope of what happened to him. Not that I’ll ever ask for gory details or tell. Watching how hard it was for him to say anything was shaming enough for me.

“I mentioned it to Tera once. I haven’t since.”

I wince at the tight reply. I don’t want to push, but I do in a big way.

My brother has a complete support group to fall back on. And he’s still scared and keeping secrets.

Does he not think they’ll understand? Or that they’ll pity him? Ash is the type to punch out anybody who feels sorry for him. I don’t know which way to lean. I have my own hidden-in-plain-sight secrets, and I’ve only ever talked about them to my old therapist. It’s a rough road.

Shouldn’t they be exempt, though? Or is that dumb to think? How the hell should I know? I’ve never met my One, let alone had to face two other people added to the mix.

A flash of Poe’s eyes goes through my mind before I shake it off.

Maman told us that there wouldn’t be any doubts when we found the special person meant for us. Suzette didn’t have any when she met not one but three perfect people. She tells them everything. Shouldn’t Asher be the same way with them? Or does it not count when they aren’t his focus?

That doesn’t seem right at all. He might be in the group, but he’s holding himself back.

“What?” He snaps in a very uncharacteristic way. Ready to fight over an opinion I haven’t even told him yet.

“Don’t you yell at me, Asher,” I point in his face. He swats my hand away, his cold mask falling into place. The one he lives behind to keep people at a distance.

Seeing it used on me always stings. I wonder if Frosting and Sprinkles feel the same way.

“Spit out what you want to say already. We’re almost at your place,” his voice has gone stone cold, making me want to swallow my thoughts.

Instead, I suck it up and give him my opinion.

“I think you’re shortchanging everybody. You’re brave with Tera but leave the other two behind. How’s that supposed to work? Is Tera the go-between when things get tough? A vulnerable pregnant woman is your mouthpiece when you shut down, I can already tell.”

His feet stop as he stares at me without much expression. I try not to get nervous as I go on.

“I hate to say it, but you’re gonna have to open up a little wider if you want to have that cake.”

His face falls into a grimace of disgust. “That analogy is fucking horrifying to think about.”

“How many misunderstandings have you had with them?” I raise a brow, crossing my arms over my chest.

Asher doesn’t answer, but the way his eyes find other things to look at speaks for itself.

“Uh-huh. So they don’t get why you act like an asshole.”

“I’m not the only one,” he bites out with a glare.

“Then be the bigger one,” I offer blandly. “I know you can do it. If you step up to the plate, they might just follow. I’m not saying be all sweet and gentle with it, or that you go into detail. Just explain why you react to things the way you do and leave it at that. It doesn’t have to be a damn poem of emo depression.”

“Fuck you,” he lets out a sigh, his lips trying not to curve up in a smile.

We start walking again when he suddenly starts talking.

“Max put his arm over my shoulders the other day, and I flipped.”

Such a simple sentence with a lot of lasting consequences.

“I didn’t see it coming. He took it as me seeing it as a sexual advance. I let him.”

“You are a moron,” I shake my head in disappointment. “You could have just said, ‘Nah, man. I don’t like people touching me’. But no, you have to take the most moronic route known to man.”

Asher ignores my commentary to get his problem off his chest. “It’s turned into a cold war between me and them. It’s adding more stress to Tera when she already has a million things on her plate. I’m not adding family drama on top of it.”

“Don’t let it be drama then,” I glare at him to try and instill my viewpoint into his head. “Talk to them. Prep them for the bullshit.”

“You make it sound easy,” he grumbles.

“Hell no. It’s a giant hurdle, but I know you can make it. A little understanding will go a long way in a relationship.”

“Communication,” he lets out a sigh and rubs a hand over his face.

“I bet you talked a good game to get your way in,” I grin at his dark glare. “Being all understanding and smooth. Time to back it up, little bro. Don’t spill out advice you can’t follow.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters in defeat. “Got any advice on keeping Tera from sticking her nose into trouble every chance she gets?”

I crack up at the visual and toss out, “Sit on her. Keep her close. There’s nothing wrong with a little trouble if you’ve got backup.”

“You say that with the best intentions,” he shakes his head.

“I could be backup,” I wheedle, earning myself a glare.

“No fucking way,” he denies me with a glare of determination.

The instant denial hits me in the chest, leaving me floundering. I figured he would brush me off. Not like this, though. He looks furious that I even suggested it.

I try to shrug off the instant shutdown between us, but I can’t find anything to joke about to take the sting away.

“One week,” he breaks the tense silence as we reach my apartment entrance.

“For?” I prompt him slyly. I’m starting to feel hopeful and trying to hold off my excitement. I’ve wanted to meet them so badly, I’m practically frothing at the mouth over it.

“You can meet them in one week.”

I try to hide it, but I’m already squealing with happiness.

“Calm down,” he snaps. “Just you. Don’t tell anyone. Good night.”

“I love you, Asher,” I scream after him.

He gives me an irritated look over his shoulder and his usual head nod. It cuts my happiness in half as I watch him walk away. I’m not going to wallow. I’m a big girl, and he’s a man who’s got himself locked up in an icy fortress.

He says it to Maman. All the sisters say he’s said it to them. I’m suspicious of that, though. He’s never once said it to me or Joseph, our stepdad.

I don’t want to think about what that means.

He walks to his car parked close to my shop and calmly drives away. He never looks back.