Wicked Sinner (Dangerous Love 2)

“Why should I?” she asked, desperately wanting to know.

“To mend this between us. Don’t you think it’s time for that?” He drew in a long, deep breath before addressing her again. “I’ve made mistakes. Big mistakes, I know that. But I’m not that fucked-up kid who left you all those years ago. We were good friends once, Remy. I want that again.” Intensity flared in his gaze. “No, I need that. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed the laughs and the fun we had together. Don’t you?” She felt the ground drop out from under her as he went on. “I know there will always be a part of you that can never forgive me. I accept that and can live with it. But I’m done sitting back quietly and pretending that I don’t miss having you in my life.”

There were a thousand things to say or do in this moment, but all she could do was burst into tears and yell at him, “I’m just so fucking angry. I’m angry at you for leaving me. I’m angry at Damon…Kyle, whoever the fuck he is. I’m angry that the life I thought I was going to have—the marriage, the family, my shop…it’s all gone. And I’m angry that every time a man offers me the world, he takes it away just like that.” She snapped her fingers.

“You should be angry,” he said softly, pain etched into his features. “You deserve better.”

For years there were things she wanted to say but never did. Now that she had her chance, she couldn’t quite stop herself. “After you left, everything, and I mean everything, fell apart for me. Nana died. College was no longer a reality since I needed to support myself. I needed you so bad, and you weren’t here.”

He visibly swallowed. “I know.”

She stopped short, not expecting him to take all the blame. He didn’t give an excuse or explain it, just accepted his blame in hurting her. It made her remember the Asher she once loved deeply. “I don’t know if I can be your friend.”

He glanced down for a moment, then looked up, and in that one second, she saw his desperation that he hid well. “We were very good at that once.”

They were, she knew that. No one made her laugh like Asher. No one made her feel as alive as Asher had. In that empty hollowness of her chest, a part of her wanted to feel a little piece of that again. “One chance to be friends, Asher. That’s it. Mess this up, and we’re done. Forever.”

“I understand what’s on the line here.”

She caught the darkness in Asher’s eyes that had never been there when she was with him before, and she knew, she hadn’t been the only one who suffered in the past. Asher had his pain too. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to heal what was broken. “If you really want to help me, I know one thing you can do.”

“Name it.”

“Erase that fucker from my life.”

Asher gave a tight smile. “My pleasure.”

* * *

Three hours had ticked by since Remy coldcocked Damon. Since Asher couldn’t physically erase Damon from Remy’s life, he did the second-best thing. He packed up Damon’s belongings in her loft. Worried that if he didn’t, she might set her apartment on fire and then retreat under her bed fort. He shoved the final box into the back of his truck to take to Goodwill. It dawned on him then that the last time he was with Remy and packing boxes away, it was when he left her for Washington. Pain clawed at the back of his throat, and even wearing only a T-shirt in the cool autumn weather, his skin felt flushed. Had he been a better man, she wouldn’t be hurting right now, but he was done living in the past. His chest felt lighter than it had in years. The last thing Remy wanted from him now was marriage, and she wasn’t looking at him as the man who’d failed to make those dreams comes true. He could earn her friendship back, help her discover new dreams, and he’d finally free himself from the crushing guilt for destroying her life. Now all he had to do was not screw it up. And not fall back in love with her.

“Is Remy okay?”

Asher glanced over his shoulder, finding eight middle-aged women holding plastic containers filled with food. They weren’t strangers. Asher and Remy had grown up with some of their sons and daughters. And now that many of the millennials in Stoney Creek moved away wanting the taste of the big city, those that stayed became second children to the moms in town. “She’s doing much better,” he told them with a smile. “I see you’ve been cooking.”

MaryJane Abbott, the leader of the bunch, and the one who knew just about everything about everyone, said, “We’ve got two weeks of meals here for her.” She had a head full of purple curls, bright red lipstick covering her thin lips, and deep laugh lines. “All she needs to do is freeze them, then heat ’em up in the oven when she’s ready to eat.”

“That’s so very generous of you, ladies.” Asher held out his hands. “I can take those up for you.” The last thing Remy needed was a group of women in her loft pitying her, no matter how kind they were.

“Oh, you’ll take them up to her, hmm,” said MaryJane, her bright blue eyes twinkling. She shared a look with the other ladies around her.

Great. He had no doubt he’d just joined the gossip train.

“Yes, yes.” MaryJane shoved the containers at him, then handed him three plastic bags full of more containers. “You’re exactly who should bring these to her.” She grinned from ear to ear, nudging him forward. “Please let Remy know we’re all thinking about her. Damon is just horrible. A terrible human being.”

Asher nodded, not disagreeing with her. “Enjoy your day, ladies, and again, thank you for taking care of Remy.” He left the giggling women behind and strode with purpose toward the stairs at the back of the building. If he hung around any longer, he’d get cornered and questioned.

On his way up the creaky metal stairs, he spotted the back doors to Kinsley’s bar, Whiskey Blues, and Peyton’s lingerie shop, Uptown Girl. They were both working today, and Asher figured a drink at the bar later sounded like a perfect end to the day.

When he finally made it up the stairs and reentered Remy’s loft, he got a waft of a spicy scent mixed with something pungent that he couldn’t identify. All very typical smells coming from Remy’s kitchen. Back in the day, her nana had been a sweetheart, and she always had some concoction she was teaching to Remy. There was never a time when Asher came over that they weren’t either praying to Mother Earth, or creating some kind of tea, cream, or drink to fix people’s problems. Asher had many regrets, but right up there with breaking Remy’s heart was leaving Stoney Creek without telling Nana goodbye. He’d just…left. Not letting that regret drown him, he shut the door behind him, then kicked of his boots, hearing Remy’s voice as he got closer. The galley kitchen was tiny and set underneath her bedroom loft above, with the living room furnished with gray couches leading to floor-to-ceiling windows, letting in natural light. On the live edge countertop were small glass containers spread out all over the counter filled with herbs and liquids. Sitting next to her on the counter was Nana’s book of spells, which basically was an old scrapbook with dark brown paper and a leather case. Asher never believed in the New Age magic Remy and her nana did, but over the years, he’d grown to miss Remy’s quirky ways. She could fix everything, or so she believed, and he liked that nurturing side of her.

She stood at the stove with a phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder, using a big wooden spoon to stir something that had a slightly nutty aroma. Her kitchen was a disaster, but at least she wasn’t setting anything on fire. Salem sat at his food bowl, enjoying his fresh cooked chicken. “Yes, Mom, I’m fine.” Remy paused, obviously listening to her mother talk. “Well, if I knew he was a money-hungry prick, then I wou

ldn’t have dated him.” Another pause and then Remy’s voice tightened. “Yes, Mom, my inheritance is safe. Please stop worrying, I’m okay. Sure, I’m a bit sad and angry, but I’ll be fine.” She added a spice to the pot and kept stirring. “Yup. Yup. Perfect. Love you too. Bye.” She ended the call, then without turning around, Remy said, “She’s worried about me, apparently.”

“Understandably so,” Asher replied, setting the containers and bags on the kitchen table. “Is she coming to visit?”

Remy snorted and glanced into the pot. “Yeah, right. That would involve thinking of anyone but herself.”