Chapter 9
Asher
“How long have you had the migraines?” I asked Sierra as I tucked into my chicken fried steak at Charlie’s.
It wasn’t quite peak dinner hour, so the place was relatively quiet.
Charlie had greeted us like we were long-lost friends, and that friendliness had gone a long way toward making me feel more comfortable.
I watched as Sierra picked up her fork and looked at her plate longingly.
Hell, she was probably on her second day without food.
Maybe I should have tried to get her to eat earlier, but Reese had told me to let her sleep unless she needed meds.
The chicken fried steak was the special, and she’d ordered the same thing.
The portions were huge, but I didn’t think she was going to have a hard time finishing it.
“They started about the same time as my PTSD,” she explained.
“They called them post-trauma migraines. I had them pretty often at first, but they eventually started to come less and less frequently. It’s been almost a year since my last one.
I was hoping they were over. The emotional stress was usually a trigger, and that trigger isn’t really there anymore. ”
Hell, what if…
“Do you think it was that incident down by the river?” I asked gruffly.
She shook her head. “No. I think I ignored the earlier signals. I get really fatigued before they happened, and I have some mood shifts. The signs were there, but I attributed them to lack of sleep because it’s been so long since I’ve had a migraine.
I should have listened to my body. It hit pretty hard and fast. I was seeing the aura early yesterday morning, and I was unable to function well a few minutes later.
I didn’t answer your call because I didn’t take my phone with me when I crawled into the closet.
Lucky was upset because I wouldn’t let her into the closet with me, but I knew seeing me like that would worry her.
She’s been through the migraines with me before, and I didn’t want to keep her enclosed in that small space. ”
“I don’t think it helped much,” I informed her. “She seemed pretty distressed when I got there. Lucky? Because she’s a black cat?”
Sierra shook her head. “I got her when she was a kitten. She was on the freeway, and she managed to dodge every car until she got to the side of the road. She really was lucky that she didn’t get hit.”
Hell, I thought the feline was pretty lucky that Sierra had adopted her, too.
She’d obviously been dumped on the freeway by her previous owner.
We were silent for a few minutes while we devoured our food.
I watched her while she ate, satisfied that she was getting a meal she obviously enjoyed.
From the sounds of it, she’d had a pretty difficult life, but I was determined that was about to end for good.
I’d decided that as soon as I’d seen how she was living and what a struggle she was enduring.
She needed someone to give a damn about her, and I was happily volunteering for that job.
I had no idea why I was suddenly eager to have her living with me.
Maybe I was just fucking tired of being alone.
Maybe I wanted to feel needed and useful.
I’d spent way too much time thinking about myself.
For some damn reason, I actually liked having Sierra in my space.
I actually missed her on the weekends.
I’d gotten used to seeing her smiling face every day.
Her upbeat chatter filled my empty house with life.
I couldn’t even begin to explain why I had the driving need to make sure that Sierra never suffered again, but it was there, and it was so strong that I couldn’t ignore it.
I didn’t want to ignore it.
I’d found the one woman on the planet who could put up with my quirks and who understood my peculiarities.
Why would I not want that woman to live with me?
“This food is incredible,” Sierra said as she paused to take a sip of her water. “I shouldn’t be able to finish the whole thing, but my plate is going to end up empty.”
Fuck! I wanted her to clean her plate. I wanted her to eat until she didn’t feel hungry anymore.
“I think you need to try the huckleberry pie for dessert,” I told her. “Charlie will probably run out of huckleberries soon, and we won’t see it for a while.”
Her face lit up. “I haven’t gotten the chance to try it yet. I’ve heard it’s phenomenal.”
I grinned at her. “The perfect combination of sweet and tart. If you like sweets, you’ll love it.”
She snorted. “I like them way too much. I think I just love food in general. Trying new dishes used to be one of my favorite things to do.”
“Used to be?” I questioned.
“Before life got the best of me,” she said wistfully before she started to eat again.
I wanted to hear Sierra’s story.
I wanted to know what had caused her PTSD.
I wanted to know what had brought her down when it seemed like it was almost impossible for her to be negative.
Something horrible had happened to Sierra Ellis, and as much as I wanted to know everything about her, I was likely to lose my shit when I found out the truth.
However, I understood that I hadn’t earned her trust yet.
Hell, I wasn’t about to share certain things with her right now, so I couldn’t really expect her to blurt out some of the secrets she was keeping.
“Do you really want to stay for dessert?” she asked as she searched my face.
She’d been tracking my reactions from the moment we’d walked into Charlie’s.
I recognized every worried look she’d given me since we’d arrived here earlier.
“I’m fine,” I assured her.
And surprisingly, I was mostly at ease.
I wasn’t sure if it was the good food, the lack of people in the restaurant, or just the fact that Sierra was a major distraction for me.
She shot me a hesitant look. “Are you really?”
“I’d tell you if I wasn’t,” I assured her. “It’s not really busy, and I like spending time with you.”
“I like it, too,” she answered softly.
“Then spend more time with me,” I said in what I hoped was a persuasive voice. “I have a private jet in Billings. We can visit your mom in Texas whenever you want. We can try new food anywhere you want.”
She laughed. “You never get out of your office.”
“I’d make time,” I said seriously. “Part of the reason Cole and I sold our tech company was to explore more of our hobbies and give ourselves more leisure time. I work because it’s what I’ve always done, but I can get an assistant. I just haven’t really needed one since I moved to Montana.”
“I hope I’ll be working more in the future,” she answered hesitantly. “I had a career before my life fell apart, Asher.”
My muscles tensed because I knew she was going to share something personal with me.
It was humbling to know that she was starting to trust me enough to share some of her old life.
“But?” I prompted.
“But it crashed and burned when my whole life fell apart. I was an illustrator of children’s books.
I studied art in college, and I knew exactly what I wanted to do.
It took me a while to establish myself and earn a reputation.
I was just getting to the point where my work was in high demand.
I was starting to make good money. When everything changed, I couldn’t get my creativity back.
I lost my reputation for being reliable.
I couldn’t produce the same quality of work that I did before.
I’m starting all over again, and I think I’m doing good work now, but I have to get over that reliability hurdle and prove myself to successful authors again.
I’m turning in good projects to the few people who have taken a chance, but I can’t rebuild things overnight.
I work in the evenings and weekends at trying to salvage my old career.
I loved my job, Asher. I want to believe I can be successful again. ”
Hell, this was probably the last thing I’d expected her to share.
My gut ached at the thought of Sierra losing everything because of a traumatic event.
“The talent is still there,” I encouraged. “There’s no reason that you can’t go back to doing what you love.”
“I’m hoping the more work I do, the more that I’ll get noticed again,” she said. “Once people in the business realize that I’m consistently putting out good work, I think I’ll get more projects.”
“I’d love to see your work,” I told her.
“I can show it to you,” she said excitedly. “I have a website with some of my portfolio.”
I wanted to pull out my damn phone and bring up that website right now, but I didn’t.
“We’ll do it later. After we order dessert,” I said, reminding her that we still had food to try out. “Since you’ll be staying with me, we’ll have time when we get home.”
She let out an exasperated breath. “Asher, I really should go back to my apartment—”
“Not happening,” I rumbled. “Not negotiable. We’ll go pick up whatever I missed tomorrow, but you’re not staying there again. It’s not safe and it can’t possibly be good for your creativity.”
“I use your ranch for creativity,” she shared. “That spot by the river is going to end up in an illustration someday. I try not to think about my surroundings when I’m illustrating.”
“It will be much easier not to think about that dump when you’re not living there anymore,” I informed her. “For now, you can take the suite next to mine.”
“Has anyone ever told you how stubborn you are?” she questioned in a frustrated tone.
“All the time,” I told her flatly. “It’s one of my better traits, because it made my career. I couldn’t have become as successful as I am today without that stubbornness. Give it up, Sierra. You’re staying with me.”
She shot me an irritated look and then started to yawn.
“You’re tired,” I said, feeling like a jerk because I’d almost forgotten that she was still right in the middle of her migraine hangover. “Should we take that pie to go?”
I’d read up on migraines a little while she was sleeping, and I knew she was going to be wiped out for a while.
“Would you mind?” she asked hesitantly.
Just the fact that she’d asked meant that she was exhausted and ready to go.
I motioned to Charlie and asked for the check and our huckleberry pie to go.
If Sierra needed to curl up and sleep, I was going to make sure she got into a comfortable bed as soon as possible.