He shakes his head. "Not on your life." He walks over to grab two shot glasses. "I walked in with them, and all I heard were cat noises," he says, and I place the drinks on the tray. "I’ll make sure this is taken care of."
"Thank you," I say. Finally, at ten o’clock, the last person walks out, and I look over to see that he’s wiping down the tables.
Jill comes over to me and hands me the black money bag. "Sports room is all clean."
"Thank you so much, Jill." I smile at her. "See you on Friday."
"I’m covering for Dolly tomorrow. She already called me," she says over her shoulder. "See you later."
I clean behind the bar, and when I look back up, Asher is taking the glasses to the back and setting them in the dishwasher. "I don’t know if I can repay you," I say when he comes back out, and I finish counting the till. "This is for you." I hand him the white envelope.
"You aren’t paying me for tonight," he says, and I laugh.
"Good to know," I say. "But that is your share of the tips." I move the envelope. "Come on, you earned it."
He shakes his head. "I owed you from today." I tilt my head to the side, confused. "You let me stay at your house."
"Oh, that?" I shake my head. "That wasn’t a favor. After smelling you, it was …" I don’t have to finish the sentace when he starts to laugh as he leans against the bar, and he looks exhausted. "How was today?"
"Exhausting," he answers.
"Where are you staying tonight?" I ask, and he looks down and then up.
"You don’t have anywhere to stay."
"I was just going to stay in the truck," he answers honestly. I’m expecting him to argue with me and come up with an excuse. What I’m not expecting is what comes next. "Trust me, it’s not the worst place I’ve ever slept." My heart shatters in my chest with just that one sentence.
Chapter 7
Asher
The words leave my mouth with a laugh, and I watch her eyes the whole time. I wait to see if she will look at me differently. Her eyes never leave mine, and they never change. "I’ve seen the inside of that truck." She shakes her head, and I have to literally catch my breath at her beauty. I noticed her the minute I started working at the farm. I also knew I wasn’t going to disrespect the family by going after her. So I keep my distance and watch her from afar, hoping like fuck no one notices.
"When I was fifteen …" I want to slap my hand in front of my mouth to stop it from talking, but with her, all I want to do is to keep talking, just to be with her. "My foster brother, Ryan, and I found this couch in one of the alleys." I shake my head, thinking back to that time. "We had both decided that we were not going back to our foster home." I start to tap my finger on the bar. "We had seventeen dollars between us. God, we were such idiots."
"You were fifteen, and you thought you could live off seventeen dollars?" she asks, laughing and shaking her head. Her blue eyes light up. I can see she’s tired, and I know I shouldn’t keep her any longer than I am. She walks around the bar. Her black jeans mold to her hips, the blank tank top sticks to her small frame. "What happened?" she asks, pulling out a stool and hopping on it.
"We decided to spend the night resting. Hit the pavement the next day and start looking for jobs," I say.
"Well, at least you had a plan." She puts her hand up and leans her forehead on her fist.
"Oh, we had big plans," I say, climbing onto the stool next to her. "We were going to rule the world." I laugh, folding my hands together. "The night was hard. The honking, the sirens, the smell of urine … it was so gross." I look down at my hands. "But we were together and safe."
"Why do I feel like something is coming?" she asks with a twinkle in her eye.
"Oh, it came alright. The next day, we couldn’t stop scratching." She gasps out and puts her hands in front of her mouth. "Turns out, the couch was full of bedbugs."
She claps her hands together. "Oh my God. What did you do?"
"Nothing." I shake my head, turning to her. "This scar right here"—I point at a small scar right under my eye—"is from that."
"That is horrible," she says, and I shrug.
"Like I said, I’ve slept in worse places than the truck. I’ll be fine," I say, getting up. "Let’s go. It’s getting late."