The Jock Script (The Script Club 3)

“Oh, no. Of course not. I’m overcompensating,” he replied, washing the mugs thoroughly and turning the faucet back on.

“Well…why? For what?”

“It’s a tad complicated.”

“I can follow along,” I prodded.

“Of course. Well…my brother drowned when he was two years old, and my father left us soon after. Mom was distraught. Terribly distraught. She couldn’t function for a while, so we went to live with my aunt for a couple of years while my mom healed.” His matter-of-fact tone was quintessential Asher. He recited events, gave facts, neatly dispensing of any emotional baggage.

But damn, did anyone ever get over that kind of trauma?

I shut the water off again and pulled him close. “Jesus, Ash. I’m so sorry.”

Asher pushed out of my hold, glancing up at me in confusion. “Why?”

“Because that’s so…sad.”

“Yes, but it was over twenty years ago. We’re all right now.”

“But…” I furrowed my brow. I wanted more info, but I could practically feel an invisible shield falling into place. “How old were you when it happened?”

“I was three and a half. I don’t remember my brother, and I barely remember my dad. I feel guilty about that sometimes, but there was a lot of crying when he was around, and I didn’t like that. I have a terrible aversion to tears.”

“Oh.”

Asher picked up a mug and a dish towel. “Don’t be sad for me, Blake. It’s a devastating part of my family history and no doubt it’s influenced who I am, but I’m not the one who lost everything. My mom did and she suffered greatly, but she’s doing well now. She’s quite inspirational, really.”

“Yeah, I’m sure she is. She seems very cool.”

“She is. She’s marvelous.”

“Right.” I narrowed my eyes as I cocked my head. “But that doesn’t explain why you overcompensate.”

“It’s necessary. I’m the only one left. And I’m the reason she was able to make it through those trying times. At least, that’s what she told me.”

“Did she tell you that you had to be perfect?”

“Oh, no. But she cried so much, and she worried all the time too. I didn’t want to be the cause for more tears or more worry,” he replied conversationally. “So I made an extra effort to get good grades, stay out of trouble, and generally be…”

“Perfect.”

Asher smiled. “Yes, I know I go overboard. But I mostly do that when I’m nervous.”

“Why would you be nervous with your mom?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt her feelings. You know I have a hard time lying, and the truth is…” He sucked in a breath and scanned the room before continuing in a hushed tone. “I don’t like her new condo and I don’t like Sam the cat. But I can’t tell my mother those things, so I put a smile on my face. And whenever I get the urge to scream about the gray cat hair all over my cashmere sweaters, I try to do something nice for her instead. You’d do the same thing for your mom, wouldn’t you?”

“No, Ash, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t even think about it.” I scrubbed my hand over my stubbled jaw. “Fuck, I don’t think I know how to be that…nice.”

He chuckled. “I’m not nice. I’m coping. This is part of my method.”

I shook my head in dismay. “I can’t decide if that’s completely bonkers or genius.”

“It’s entirely possible that I’m a little crazy. To quote Einstein, ‘The difference between genius and insanity is that genius has its limits.’ ”

“Huh. This is where your grading system started, isn’t it?”

He dried a mug and reached for another. “Yes.”

“And how are you doing today?”

“Undetermined. I’m struggling on a few fronts,” he admitted sheepishly before wagging his forefinger at me. “And don’t ask me which fronts. I’ve already revealed far too much. Shall we build another bookcase?”

I set my hands on my hips and studied my pint-sized wackadoodle friend with new eyes. Sure, I had a thing for geeky geniuses and Ash definitely fit the description, but there was so much more to him. And it was all so…unexpected. He was…good—so good, so real, and so heartbreakingly honest. He stood in his mother’s kitchen wearing a borrowed T-shirt with those sexy glasses and his heart on his sleeve. He’d cut himself open without even realizing it and had lain himself bare.

Fuck, he was brave.

A rogue wave of affection left me speechless. I wanted to hold him, shield him, and somehow assure him that he was perfect just the way he was. But I didn’t know how to say those things and Ash was already two steps ahead of me, pointing to my toolbox and leading the way to his mom’s home office.

It took twenty minutes tops to build the bookcase, five minutes to clean the mess of packaging, and another five to talk Ash out of arranging his mom’s books on the empty shelves. I had to practically pull him out of the condo before he picked up a sponge and started scrubbing her bathroom too.