Fractured Fear (The Devils of New York #1)

Chapter 30

CHAPTER 30

SPENCER

A fter showering and dressing in my ratty studio clothes, Asher uses my bathroom to take the fastest shower known to man, changing into an outfit he had laying in his car for work. With Asher looking yummy enough to eat and me looking homeless, we walk down to The Mudhouse in comfortable silence.

Ha. Yeah right. It’s awkward as fuck.

When I exited my room with wet hair, no makeup, and my normal work outfit, Asher’s eyes held a fire in them that told me everything I needed to know. He heard me. He knows what I did. I shouldn’t be ashamed. I can do what I want. I’m a woman with needs, but the fact that he may have heard me say his name…Oh God. Bury me in my overcrowded storage closet please.

It doesn’t matter. You’ll be gone soon.

The thought is sobering. I won’t be around long enough to ask him how he feels about my little self care shower. Not that I have the lady balls to do that anyway, but the opportunity isn’t there. It’ll never be there.

I order our drinks, black coffee for Asher and a mocha with whipped cream for me, and we wait for our morning fuel in—you guessed it—silence. His muscles are taut and the burning embers still alight in his eyes. The tension between us could be cut with a fucking knife, but I can’t tell if he’s happy about it or annoyed.

Focus. It’s go time soon.

Right. Go time. I can’t get caught up in my attraction for Asher, and I can’t even begin to think about how Zane and Rio will react. My self-loathing overwhelms me every time I imagine their devastation.

We’ve grown close. They want to start something with me, but I’m running just as the seeds are being planted. I’ll let myself mourn the relationship we could’ve had when I get to the west coast.

Our coffee is taking longer than usual, but I’m content to wait. I want to savor my last moments in The Mudhouse.

My nostrils fill with the rich smell of coffee beans followed by a sickly-sweet vanilla aroma as a blonde bombshell walks by. She looks like she just got off the runway with her perfectly styled hair, extra plump lips, and full face of makeup. She’s wearing an overly tight skirt and a Marc Jacobs tote bag hangs from her arm while she types away on her phone.

As a girl’s girl, I give props to her power outfit, but then her gaze wanders a little too far this way and lands on my bodyguard. I know the juxtaposition between Asher and me is immense. He looks ready to fight crime with his FBI badge on his belt with his dress shirt and slacks sitting perfectly on his fit frame. Meanwhile, I’m ready for a soup kitchen.

If Asher notices her, he doesn’t give any indication. This probably happens to him often. Hot women in coffee shops must walk right up and give him their number all the time. But we’re standing so close our shoulders are brushing with each breath. Surely she wouldn’t…

As the woman begins to sidle up to Asher’s side, I clear my throat drawing his attention. Then I do what I do best. I babble and make shit up as I go. “I have a lot of traveling back and forth between the gallery and studio today. I have to make sure some sales go out for delivery and then there’s a shipment of clay coming in today. Would you mind helping me unload that? Then there’s counting all the new inventory. Hayes usually has that under control, but I feel bad, it’s a lot to handle. The day camp is coming by. Oh, and I need to?—”

He sighs and interjects, “I get it. Lots of moving around, but I can guarantee you, Princess, I’ll be right there with you.”

As he speaks I lean forward subtly, checking to see if the bombshell got the hint. I let out a sigh of relief as I see her grab her coffee and leave.

Then it’s Asher’s turn to clear his throat. Embarrassed that he may have caught on to my scheme, I fumble to reply, “Oh. Um. It’s no trouble. Really. You don’t have to go with me everywhere everywhere.” I do my best to pacify him.

His ego might still be bruised from my excursion to the coffee shop yesterday, but geez. Get over it.

“Yes, I do.”

Surely he doesn’t mean that.

An hour later after I’ve downed my coffee and I’m about to pee my pants, it’s time to test the theory.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Asher asks as I walk away from the worktable.

I drop my shoulders in frustration. “To the bathroom.”

“Not without me,” he simply states as he stands from his perch on a stool.

“You’ve got to be joking.” There’s no way. He’s bluffing.

“Not even a little bit, Princess.”

I narrow my eyes at him and walk to the back of the studio ignoring the questioning glance from Hayes. Turning to shut the door, I attempt to slam it in Asher’s face but he holds it open with his hand. I push back repeatedly and feel like a younger child fighting with their older sibling as my feet slide across the floor while trying to get a good grip.

With the next two shoves I grunt out, “Get. Out.” I stop and huff a big breath. “Move you overgrown man-child!”

He just stands there unphased, not even bracing his legs. He’s just nonchalantly leaning on the door as if it’s any other normal day. He’s not even breathing hard, meanwhile I’m panting from all the exertion with a drop of sweat trickling down my back.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Are you done throwing your fit?” he asks, annoyed.

“You’re not coming in here. One, it’s a small single bathroom. There’s not enough room for you and me. And two, I have to pee.”

Why do I even have to explain this to him? You don’t pee in front of the guy you pictured while masturbating in the shower. I know he heard me. He knows I know he heard me. We both know I did what I did! There’s no way I can pee in front of him.

Instead of answering me, Asher pushes me backward until my calves hit the toilet seat. Then he steps in further and the door shuts behind him with a snick.

“Your throne, Princess. Have a seat.” He flourishes his hand and does a slight bend in a mock bow.

Blood rushes to my cheeks and I fold my arms. I’m trapped with nowhere to go, but the dread of what could happen next, never comes. I can’t take this. This familiarity my body and subconscious mind have with him. This can’t be the life I leave behind.

My face remains neutral and I cross my arms. “No.”

“Fine. We can just chill here. Make small talk.”

“Whatever,” I scoff at him.

You sure showed him.

Fucking hell. I roll my eyes and remain upright. No way am I caving. I’d rather die than pee in front of him.

“Enjoy your shower this morning?” he asks with a smirk.

My jaw drops. The audacity of this asshole! I swear steam is coming out of my ears as I mentally shoot serrated daggers at his gorgeous fucking face.

Damn him! My face is heating even more. I’m sure I’m as red as a tomato now.

“The least you can do is turn around,” I grit out through clenched teeth.

With a smile resembling the cheshire cat, he spins to face the door.

“If anyone asks, this never happened. Got it?” I say lacing each word with unspoken threats.

“As you wish, Princess.”

Is it possible to actually see red? Because if so, that’s me right now. If I had a brick, I’d hit his obnoxiously thick skull with it.

“Don’t you dare turn back around.” Sometimes you have to voice the things that could be left unsaid, but some people are stupid like the lump of muscle in front of me.

“As you wish, Princess,” he repeats. I can hear the laughter in his voice. His smile is beautiful, but right now, I’d rather it not be present for this mortifying experience. It only adds salt to my gaping wound.

I quickly slide my leggings down to my knees and sit my ass down on the seat. If he does turn around, he’s going to see as little as possible. Closing my eyes, I focus on the sound of nothing and will my bladder to empty. After what feels like an eternity, I let out a sigh.

“Pee shy?” There’s still that smirk in his tone. God. I want to smack that panty-dropping smile right off his gorgeous face.

“I need you to make noise.”

“What, like sex sounds?” He teases. I wouldn’t complain if I heard his sex noises, but not while I’m trying to pee.

“No, you idiot. Just sounds to drown out the sound of me peeing.”

“Seriously? Just pee.” He sounds like he’s well on his way to aggravation.

“I can’t. Please, Asher.” I plead with him.

“Fine,” he concedes. “ Whooshhhhhhhh. Whooshhhhhhhh. Whooshhhhhhhh .”

I giggle and force myself to hold in the pee begging to come out. “What the fuck is that?”

“Water sounds,” he states as if it’s obvious.

“That’s what you think water sounds like?” I tease back giving him a taste of his own medicine.

“Do you want the noises or not?”

“Yes, please,” I say pretending to be chastised.

“ Whooshhhhhhhh. Whooshhhhhhhh.”

I finally pee and sweet relief washes through me. My bladder thanks me, my abs thank me, and my urinary tract thanks me. When I’m done, I flush and nudge Asher with my foot. He smirks at me over his shoulder and my face gets hot all over again.

After I wash my hands, I head back to the worktable where I have a lump of clay I’ve yet to shape. Hayes motions to get my attention, but I refuse to look. He resorts to putting his hand in my face, so I make eye contact. He raises his brows and widens his eyes as if it’s enough to convey a whole message, which it is.

“Do not. We will never talk about this. Ever.” I threaten.

He busts up laughing causing giggles from Alma and Paul. I bury my face in my hands and wait for the laughing to subside.

I’m going to miss this. I’m going to miss Alma’s warm heart, Paul’s tender soul, mine and Hayes’ comfortable companionship, and Iris’ humor. I’ll mourn the loss of Zane’s attention to detail, Rio’s lively spirit, and even Asher’s grumpy demeanor, but I’ve endangered everyone here enough.

Anthony’s message was clear. Come back . That’s not happening. Never. My only choice is obvious.

I have to go and leave my heart behind with these people who have done nothing but show me love.