Unexpected

Asher swivels in his chair and meets my gaze with a grin. My heart falls to my feet. His left eye is bruised and swollen shut. What happened after

I left the diner last night?

I no longer care about what I look like. I rush across the tile floors to be at his side. I already know who did this to him, but I want Asher to say it out loud, in front of my parents. I want them to put a stop to this. Dad has connections everywhere. He has to do something! “What happened to your face?”

Asher chuckles but he sounds sad. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He reaches for my hand to comfort me but I take a step towards my dad. “I got into a fight with a squirrel.”

“Asher! That’s not funny.” I look to my dad with pleading eyes. “Dad, can’t we do something?”

“About what?” He’s playing dumb, sipping his coffee and looking at me expectantly.

Can he not see how beat up Asher is?

I’ve gotten to know Asher better than I ever would have thought over the past three weeks. He’s not the type to pick a fight. I have no doubt in my mind Clint did this to him. My face and neck burn with frustration. I've never wanted to hurt someone as bad as I want to take a tire iron to Clint's kneecaps. I'm far from violent, but that man needs someone to rough him up. That someone shouldn't be me though. “About Asher’s piece of shit stepfather.”

“Language,” my mother warns, but I ignore her.

I'm pissed. My parents are acting like seeing an eighteen-year-old beat up by his father figure is no big deal. How can they be so ignorant? If Clint is doing this to Asher, chances are he's doing it to Mary Anne too. I hold my hand out in Asher’s direction. “Look at him.”

Asher’s face falls. He takes a sip of the coffee my mother set in front of him and swallows it without a word. Either he doesn’t care how it tastes, or she knows how he likes it. Either way, my curiosity is piqued.

“Go ahead,” Asher says, his tone flat and devoid of all emotion. I'm sure he's thinking I pity him and his situation. I don't. I'm worried because Clint is violent and reckless. If only my parents knew that jerk had his hands around my neck. I bet they would act differently. Just as I'm about to let them in on that little secret, Asher mumbles, “She can know.”

“Know what?”

Dad exhales then sets his mug on the counter. “Clint, the man you referred to as Asher’s stepfather is under investigation.”

“Good! He should be,” I yell, excitedly. “If he’s beating Asher like this, you know he’s doing the same to his mom. When are you bringing him in? I’ll testify. I’ve seen firsthand how horrible he is.”

Dad’s face pinches together. He doesn’t ask what I know about Clint or why and I realize something about this conversation is off. “Not that kind of investigation.”

“What do you mean?”

“We think he is running drugs across state lines for Giovanni Michlovich.”

“Okay?” I look between Dad and Asher, unable to read between the lines. I don’t know much about Giovanni Michlovich. All I know is that he’s not a good guy, but I can’t figure out what running drugs and physically abusing someone have in common, or why it affects Asher’s safety. “What does that have to do with Asher?”

“It means the cops can't touch him.” Asher turns to face me again. He looks exhausted. I would be too if I was locked in my room, trying not to get the crap kicked out of me. My fingers itch to touch the swollen parts of his face, my lips want to kiss away his pain, but that's not what friends do, so I dig my nails into my palms instead.

“The good ones don’t want to screw up the case they’re building against Gio and the bad ones are taking handouts to keep shit covered.”

“This is bullshit.” I clench my teeth and Dad shrugs, like there’s nothing he can do. I don’t believe it. It’s his job to put the bad guys behind bars. Clint Whatever-the-hell-his-last-name-is is a bad guy. If Dad won’t take that man away from Asher, he needs to take Asher and Mary Ann away from that man. “You can’t keep living there, Asher. It’s not safe.”

I don't care what my parents have to say on this one. I will guilt them into letting Asher move in with us. Mary Ann may take some time; battered women don’t easily leave their abusers. I’m fired up, mentally preparing my argument when Asher says, “I’m not.”

“Oh?” Mom asks, her curiosity peaked, like mine. She stops washing dishes and wipes her hands on a towel. “Where are you staying?”

“Some cop found me on the beach last night. He said he’d been in my shoes once and put me up at the Horizon Hotel. I didn’t want him to, but his brother or something owns the place, so he got the rooms for free.”

“Logan Harris.” Dad smiles. “Good kid and one hell of a cop.”

The adrenaline-filled bubble in my chest releases a little pressure. I still want to find someone to kick Clint's ass, but the mamma bird fight or flight complex eases up when I hear Asher isn't under the same roof as that monster anymore. “So, you’re not sleeping in a cardboard box somewhere?”

Asher laughs. He stands and pulls me into his arms. I rest my head on his chest and let him hold me. I should be comforting him but here I am being pathetic. “No, Ellie. I’m good.”

“Is that why you’re here so early? To tell my dad about Clint?”

Asher's lips lift into a light-hearted grin. Busted lip and all, it’s a beautiful sight. “No. I came to give you a ride to school.”