Chapter Six
Asher
"Jesus," I mutter, stopping right inside Kennedy's bedroom door to stare at her. When I left her to clean up, she was still sprawled across the bed like a wanton sacrifice. Now she's snuggled up with her hands tucked beneath her cheek. She looks like a sleeping angel, so damn beautiful she takes my breath away all over again.
Her eyes pop open, landing on me. A blush creeps across her face, turning her cheeks that rosy red color I love so damn much.
"Hi," she says and then giggles and covers her face with her hands as if she's embarrassed to face me after what we just did. My heart rolls at the sight.
I prowl across the room toward her and then pick her up before sliding onto the bed in her place. I lay her on top of me, so she's sprawled across my chest. Her legs tangled with mine, a big, contented sigh escaping her lips.
"You sleepy, angel baby?" I run my hand down her back.
"Maybe a little."
"You have class tomorrow?"
"No." I hear the smile in her voice. "We don't have classes on Sunday, Asher."
I grunt. I knew that. Guess I just forgot what day it is. That's entirely her fault. I lose all track of…everything…when she's close. The passage of time doesn't exist. Nothing but her registers. The world could burn and I wouldn't notice, that's how wrapped up in her I am.
She runs her finger over the Virgin Mary tattooed on my arm. "You never told me what your tattoos mean," she murmurs.
"You never told me your favorite book."
"Oh, it's Jane Eyre."
"Why?" I ask, not particularly familiar with the book.
"Because love wins in the end," she says softly, still tracing my tattoo. "Despite everything she endured in her life, Jane still has a propensity to love. She never gives up believing that she's worthy of it, and she stays true to herself in her quest for it, even when that means leaving behind the man she loves."
I'm not surprised by her answer, but it does make me smile. She's a romantic to her core. I love it.
"My turn. What's this tattoo mean?" She taps the one she's been tracing. "It's beautiful but it seems…sad."
"It's the Virgin Mary," I murmur and then take a breath, not sure how she's going to feel about the shit I memorialized in ink. She's so damn soft-hearted. I worry it'll hurt her. But I want her to know. For the first time in my life, I want someone to hear the things I went through. "When I was born, I guess my mom couldn't keep me or didn't know what to do or whatever. She gave birth to me in a public bathroom. She left me there afterward, wrapped in a blanket with a note that said, 'I'm sorry.'."
"Oh, Asher," Kennedy whispers, her hand stalling on its journey around the Virgin Mary's hood. Her arms creep around my waist, hugging me tight. "I'm so sorry."
"An older lady found me and called the police. They turned me over to social services. No one ever came forward to claim me, so I was put up for adoption. Thing is, I guess my mom was on drugs when she gave birth to me. Once prospective parents knew I was a crack baby, adoption offers dried up. I bounced around foster homes a lot."
"Asher," she says again. Her little arms squeeze me tighter.
I rub her back, more distressed for her than for me. I've lived with it my entire life. It'll never be a pleasant memory, but it doesn't hurt. I don't spend my life wishing for shit that's impossible or living in the past. I learned long ago that bitterness is poison, only it doesn't poison those it's directed at. It poisons you.
"I was a hellion," I murmur, rubbing her back in circles. "I fought and raised nine kinds of hell. I drank and stole and generally caused chaos, so I ended up bouncing around foster and group homes a lot. Trick is the first person I met who didn't give up on me. He decided we were going to be brothers. When I'd fuck up and get myself booted out, he'd find a way to follow behind me. He's a few months older than I am, so he aged out first."
"I'm glad you had him," she whispers, placing a kiss on my chest, over my heart.
"Me too. He saved my life," I admit, my voice gruff. "Had I not met him, I don't know where I would have ended up. Instead, he convinced me to join the military with him. As soon as I turned eighteen, we enlisted. Went to boot camp together, and then were deployed together. I realized pretty quick that the life wasn't for me, but I stayed in for almost a decade. Wanted to put my time in, make sure I had shit in order before I got out to open my shop."
"I didn't know you were in the military. Thank you for your service."
Scientists say sugar is the most addictive substance in the world. They clearly haven't met Kennedy. Her kind of sweetness is instantly addictive. I have a feeling that withdrawal is fatal because I already know losing her would fucking kill me.
"I got out and did some business classes, apprenticed with John James, one of the best tattooists in Nashville at the time. About six years ago, I opened my own shop. I've been there since," I murmur. "My tattoos are all the important shit that happened to me along the way, the things I wanted to remember or the things I couldn't forget. That particular one is for my mom and the woman who found me."
"Why the Virgin Mary?" She lifts her head to look at me. Her eyes are watery, tears trembling on her lashes.