Asher (Inked Brotherhood 1)

My breath catches.

Dylan is already moving toward Zane and I insert myself between them. “It’s okay, Dyl.”

Dylan looks uncertain. “I’ll bust his balls.”

Zane gives him the finger, his eyes hooded. “Fuck you, man. Sorry if my social skills need polishing. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s called being civil,” Dylan grounds out.

“Maybe nobody cared to teach me how to open doors and pull back chairs for the chicks, but I honestly didn’t mean anything,” Zane mutters.

“I said it’s okay.” I suck in a deep breath. I’m over my initial reaction, brought on by the memories of the town and its people. I can do this. I saw a therapist in Chicago, and I’ve learned to be in control of myself. “I have some scars, but they’re old now and don’t show

much. This,” I touch the one on my cheek, turning so Zane can see it, “is the only one on my face.”

He nods stiffly, his gaze flicking away. “I’m sorry, Audrey. Honest.”

My chest expands again. “No problem.”

Dylan throws an arm over my shoulders and tugs me away from his friends. “Let’s leave these idiots and go get some air, huh?”

“Hey, what did I do?” Rafe mutters behind us.

“They’re okay,” I say, feeling bad for the argument.

“Yeah, they’re okay,” Dylan concedes as he pulls me through the open door at the other end of the room and out into the cool night air. “Hearts of gold. Just acting like morons most of the time.”

“I didn’t mind,” I say, freeing myself and walking to the rail of the balcony. “I can take it.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Dylan says quietly.

I just stare out into the night. The sky’s clear and the moon bright. You can smell the lake on the air. “I like your new look.”

He’s my best friend, along with Tessa, and I’ve only seen him a couple of times since we moved to Chicago after the accident.

“It’s not new. I’ve had it for more than a year now. You’d have seen it on Facebook if you had a look.”

After the accident I avoided social media. Social events. Social everything. For a while, I hadn’t been sure I was even alive anymore.

Dylan nudges me with his elbow. “Didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset. I’ve missed you,” I say. “A lot.”

“I thought you’d never come back.”

Time to acknowledge the truth. “I never wanted to leave.”

“Even though the place reminds you of your dad?”

“Because of that.” I smile. “And because I was happy here. I realized that running away wouldn’t make me happy.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” Dylan says. “I hope you’ll find here what you need.”

***

Finding what I need means deciding what that is. And I have no clue what I need, not yet.

Meanwhile, I drink my beer and move around, talking to people. Dylan’s right: I see familiar faces from my class, and I can scarcely admit it to myself—or Tessa—but I’m having a good time. Alcohol helps me open up and soon enough I’m laughing and even dancing with Tessa in the living room.