Write or Wrong (Common Threads #9)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

OVERDRIVE

ZARA

If someone asked her to describe how she felt when Asa had finally agreed to move in, she only had one word.

Yay!

Cas had gotten her an extra key and Johnny had given Asa the rest of the day off to get his things moved.

And yes, Zara had been trying to keep from being overly generous. But this was Asa. The guy who had waded in and saved her from a public drama. The same guy who didn’t ask for anything from her. Who held babies and loved his friends.

He wasn’t going to take advantage of her.

“You have a lot of guitars.” She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the upstairs room.

“Yeah,” Asa agreed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s a really good thing you hadn’t moved all your stuff downstairs,” she stated the obvious. “Or you’d have had more to deal with than powdered donuts.”

He shot her a look and she made a face. “Sorry. Too soon?”

He turned away, shaking his head. But not before she saw the lopsided smile.

She looked around the room again, trying to decide where she would be the most helpful. Outside of the guitars and amps, he didn’t have much. A couple milkcrates of vinyl, a tall dresser, two floor lamps, a couple framed posters, and a large stereo set up.

And whatever she couldn’t see in the closet.

“Is this it?” she asked.

“To get out of the house, yeah,” he said around a grunt as he took a box off the shelf in the closet. He set it down. “I have a couple boxes of stuff at my dad’s, but they can stay there.”

For some reason she’d expected way more. All of his stuff could fit into two trips in Cas’s SUV. Granted, he didn’t have a bed. But still.

“I live light,” Asa said by way of explanation. “When I was twelve, the basement flooded at my dad’s. I had just moved down there and had everything set up so cool.” He put his hands on his hips and smiled at the memory. “I had this enormous collection of Pokémon cards. I’d spent years building it and organizing it.” He took a breath and shook his head. “But then the water main broke. All ruined.”

Her heart pinched. The idea of Asa as a boy and losing something he cared about hit her in a place that felt familiar.

“That sucks,” she said, frowning hard to keep from having a different reaction.

He shrugged. “It’s just stuff.”

Well, sure. It was just stuff. But she remembered being that age, and sometimes your stuff felt like part of your identity.

“I still have more than I need.” He brought down another box and put it on top of the first. “Like, records. And guitars.” He chuckled to himself.

“You’ve always been a collector then, huh?” she asked, filling in a little more of what she knew about Asa.

“Yep.” He struggled to reach the last box on the top shelf. “I hold onto things others consider a waste of time.” He reached the box and pulled it down.

Something new washed over his face and she stepped closer.

He sighed and put the box on top of the others.

“What’s in that one?” she couldn’t help but ask.

His eyes flicked up to hers and back down.

For a minute, she thought he wasn’t going to tell her. But then he lifted the lid and she peered into the opening. It was packed full of notebooks and loose paper. All of it looked like it had been written in.

He put the lid back on. “Like I said, I hold onto things others consider a waste of time.”

“Are those…songs?” she asked, her eyes still on the closed lid.

He turned his back to her to reach inside the closet. His broad shoulders shrugged in answer to her question.

The box of notebooks was one of those banker boxes—white carboard with oval holes punched out for handles. But it was absolutely packed full.

Winking Pete had only released one album. An album she’d listened to so much in the past six months that she had it memorized. For some reason she’d thought there wasn’t more. The way he spoke about it in LA made it seem like there wasn’t anything else. Which was ridiculous. As a writer herself she knew there was always way more than what anyone else saw.

Her eyes darted between Asa’s still turned back and the box as she made an internal vow. She was going to get into that box eventually. Someday. She’d earn it. She’d convince him or bribe him or threaten him into letting her into that box of music.

“Can I start taking these out to the truck?” she asked, turning back to the guitars.

“Yeah,” he called over his shoulder.

“Cool,” she muttered to herself. A thought occurred to her and she spun back around. “Hey, Asa?” she called, shoving her fingers into her hair and stopping when it reached the knot on the crown of her head.

“Yeah?”

“Um…” Shit. How should she ask this question?

Asa set down another box and straightened, putting his hands on his hips. “What’s up?”

“Do you…uh…” Oof, this was weird. Even though it shouldn’t be weird. Which made it weirder. “Did you tell your girlfriend you were moving?” There. Her voice hadn’t been squeaky at all. Shut up.

His eyelids dropped low over those dark brown almost black eyes. The pause between them stretched so long that she wondered if maybe she hadn’t asked the question out loud.

“Don’t have a girlfriend,” he said, voice neutral.

“Oh.” She swallowed and tried to run her hand through her hair again. And again was stopped by her topknot. His eyes flicked from her face to the top of her head and his lips twitched. “I’m going to start taking the guitars down.”

He nodded once, glancing behind her, and then disappeared inside the closet again.

All right, Zara. No big deal.

If she wasn’t such a chicken shit, she would have asked why he hadn’t ever texted her back. Having a girlfriend made the most sense. But he didn’t have one. He just didn’t want to text her back.

That was fine.

This was all. Fine.

She double checked the latches on the guitar cases before starting the trek to the truck. Counting as she went, and ogling the instruments a bit as well, she found that Asa had an amazing collection. Of the electrics she counted; two very used Fender Stratocasters, three Les Pauls, an ancient but well cared for Rickenbacker 360, two Ibeniz RGs. Of the acoustics were, two Martins; one more used than the other. He only had two bass guitars: a Fender jazz and a Rickenbacker 4001.

“For a self-proclaimed bass player, you sure don’t have very many bass guitars,” she remarked, flipping the locks closed on the last case in the room.

A ghost of a smile graced his lips and his eyes crinkled at the sides. “I don’t know what to tell you. I guess I just know what I like in a bass. I don’t need other options.”

She snickered and stood up, bringing the last bass with her. “Well, don’t be surprised when I come knocking on your door begging to play with your collection.” She didn’t stick around to see his reaction as she hoofed it out the door and down the stairs.

Cas took the last bass from her when she reached the street.

“I’ll take these over to the house and be right back,” he said.

“Do you want me to come with you to unload them?” she asked.

He gave her a look like he thought she was ridiculous.

Okay then.

Devan pulled to a stop at the curb in an identical SUV with blacked out windows. Wait. They had two vehicles? How had she not noticed that before?

Devan opened the back and one of the side doors, revealing she’d removed the middle and back seat for more room.

“You guys are the best, you know that?” Zara remarked.

Devan winked at her and then headed into the house to start loading boxes.

It didn’t take more than thirty minutes for the three of them to finish loading Asa’s possessions.

“Is that it?” Zara asked, walking through the house that really didn’t look comfortable. Poor Asa had been living in a construction site for months. No wonder he was grumpy.

“Of my meager belongings? Yep.”

Devan finished typing something out on her phone and snapped her fingers at Asa. “You have vehicle?” she asked in her thick Russian accent.

Asa’s chin jerked slightly and Zara figured it was because it was the first time he’d heard Devan speak.

“Yeah. A motorcycle,” Asa replied, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the alley behind the house.

A motorcycle? That was kind of awesome. Zara hadn’t been on a motorcycle since she was a kid and her uncle Leo had gotten one after getting really into Steve McQueen.

Devan nodded and then gestured for Zara to get in the SUV with her.

Zara flashed Asa a smile. “I think that means you have to follow us.”

“What’s the address?” he asked, flicking his eyes to Devan. “Just in case we get separated in traffic.”

“Oh. Of course.” Zara pulled out her phone and texted him the address. Just as she hit send, she wondered if maybe she didn’t have the right number and that was why he had never replied. But the thought had barely finished forming in her head when his phone dinged with the received text.

Ouch.

Okay.

Their eyes met and she almost asked him. But she didn’t know if she was ready to hear the answer yet so she kept her mouth shut.

“See you in a minute,” she said and got into the SUV with Devan.

ASA

The house was easy enough to find. For some reason he expected a fortress of sorts but it was just a really nice four-story home tucked into East Lincoln Park surrounded by houses very similar to it. No yard, obviously. Chicago was too crammed for those sorts of amenities.

Cas was waiting for him in the alley behind the house. He waved him down the short ramp into the underground garage that opened as he approached.

Was this really fucking happening? Was he really moving in with Zara Lorna?

His stomach threatened to be very upset about the entire situation but he ignored it.

The garage was a lot larger than he expected. It held both SUVs and his motorcycle easily. A large workbench sat empty against the back wall next to a door with a security panel.

He killed the engine and took off his helmet.

Cas gave him a look and motioned for him to follow him into the house.

Asa knew his eyes had to be nearly bugged out as he went through the door that led into the house. Zara and Devan were sitting on a low bench opposite the door. It had a shelf below it meant for shoes.

Zara gave him that smile again. The one that made his limbs tingle and want to make bad decisions.

“Cas is going to make you go through orientation,” she said. “It’s pretty great. Not to ruin anything for you but he rhymes verified with terrified and I laughed until I choked.”

Asa chuckled and nodded.

Cas started his tour/orientation immediately after that.

Asa followed along as the large man walked him through the house and talked about what was and was not allowed. He taught him how to use the security panel and gave him his own code. More than once he mentioned his background and specific skillset. Asa felt adequately threatened.

Everything Cas went over was a strange echo of things his father had taught him growing up. Double check locks on doors and windows, extra sensors hidden inconspicuously in addition to the obvious cameras, blackout curtains that were to be closed at night.

When he’d been younger, he’d taken for granted the overabundance of caution his father had forced him to practice. But it sure was coming in handy now.

They visited three of the four floors. The house had a personal elevator that had a regular door with a handle on it instead of the sliding doors like in hotels. The fourth floor was Zara’s room and Cas made it clear that it was off limits to Asa.

Meanwhile, Zara followed along with the tour making silly faces every time Cas made a new threat.

“If you don’t stop doing that, he won’t take me seriously,” Cas finally said, exasperated.

Asa withheld a smile as Zara rolled her eyes playfully. “I’m sure he takes you seriously,” she said. “Besides, you’re making it seem like this place houses the Mona Lisa or something. It’s really not that big of a deal. It’s just me.”

Cas inhaled sharply through his nose and flattened his mouth. Asa could see the conflict in the man’s gray eyes. Zara trying to diminish her importance aggravated him. He was also left with the impression this wasn’t the first time this had come up.

“I’m taking you seriously,” Asa said after a beat of silence. “I’m well aware of her significance. I will respect your rules.”

Cas studied him for a breath before moving on.

Asa darted a glance to Zara whose cheeks had reddened. She chewed on her lower lip and stared at the floor.

Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything? Except she must know that Cas cared for her more than as a client. She wasn’t just anyone to the world. And she wasn’t just anyone to the people who knew her.

The tour ended back in the kitchen which was probably the coolest room in the house in Asa’s opinion. All white with antique glass and quartzite counters, mirrored ceiling, and stainless-steel appliances.

“So, which room do you want?” Zara asked, having recovered from whatever had made her quiet a minute ago. “You can choose any of them.”

“Uh, probably the bottom one. By the garage. That way I can go to work without disturbing you.”

“You’re not going to disturb me,” she scoffed.

Cas nodded like he agreed with Asa’s choice.

Zara’s brow scrunched like she was frustrated with his decision. But even though he’d agreed to live there temporarily , he still needed to keep some space.

He didn’t want to.

He wanted to start asking her about the album she’d shelved. If he could hear it, even though he had no business asking that kind of a thing.

It was like, when he got around her, he forgot every hard learned lesson that life had taught him. He felt young and new and curious. And it was the curiosity he needed to really be careful with. A question here and there was probably fine. But he couldn’t exactly pepper her with inquiries like he was a child and she was the most amazing, brilliant, gorgeous, extraordinary human in all of existence.

They went out to the garage to start unloading his things and his pulse amped up, making his hands shake. What the hell was he doing? He couldn’t live with her. He looked over the sum of his belongings stuffed into the back of an SUV that probably had reinforced windows.

He had nowhere else to go.

“I could so easily freak out right now,” he muttered.

“Can I watch?”

He jumped and turned to find Zara by his side.

She smiled up at him. “I didn’t get to see the whole freakout last October, only how it ended.”

He shook his head slowly. She was teasing him.

A soft chuckle escaped him and her eyes may or may not have sparkled. The tension and anxiety faded from his limbs and he forgot again why this was a bad idea.

“So that room off the kitchen,” he said. “The one with the piano?”

She nodded.

“Would it be okay if I put the guitars in there?”

Her eyes widened and she nodded more emphatically. “Of course!”

“You can use them whenever.” He turned back to the SUV, unable to hold her excited gaze for too long. You’d think he’d given her another Artist of the Year award with the way she lit up at the idea of using his worn-out guitars.

“Wait.” Zara stopped. “What are those?” She pointed to a box.

He grabbed the edge and pulled it over. “These,” he said, picking up one bejeweled croc and holding it up. “Are my house shoes.”

“You wear those?” she asked, her lips trembling with humor.

“Absolutely,” he confirmed with a somber nod, returning the croc to its place.

Zara snickered and took the box, backing away from him. “You’re so fun,” she said around a laugh. “I hope I don’t disappoint you.”

Asa took a breath and watched her go. “Impossible,” he murmured to himself.

It didn’t take much more than an hour to unload his things and get his room set up. They put all but one of his guitars in the piano room. He decided at the last minute to keep his favorite Martin in his bedroom.

It wasn’t like he had plans to use it. But he wanted it within reach.

Just in case.