Page 15 of Her Ohio Old Flame

“Asha.” His voice dropped, low and firm, carrying the same commanding edge he’d used in the hospital cafeteria. It cut through her defenses like a blade, sharp and impossible to ignore. Her pulse skipped, unbidden, and she hated how much that tone still got to her.

“You’ve got enough on your plate with your parents,” he said, softer now but no less resolute. “Let me help with this.”

She dropped her gaze, focusing on the scuffed linoleum floor. “I can handle it,” she muttered, more for herself than him.

“You shouldn’t have to handle it alone.”

His quiet conviction made her chest ache. She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat refusing to budge.

When she had composed herself and looked up, he was already pulling tools from his box, his movements steady and deliberate, as if her refusal had never even crossed his mind.

“You don’t have to do this,” she murmured.

“I know,” he replied, not glancing back, “but I’m doing it anyway.”

Zane ran a hand over the edge of the stove as he straightened, sweeping his gaze over the now-spotless kitchen. He lingered on the floor near the stove, where faint scorch marks stubbornly remained despite Asha’s efforts.

He frowned and gestured toward the floor. “These marks—did you check underneath?”

Asha followed his gaze, then pulled her phone from her pocket. “No, but I’m ordering new linoleum anyway. It’s not worth keeping.”

“Hang on.” Zane stepped toward her, holding out a hand to stop her. “We need to be sure the floorboards aren’t burned, too. No sense putting new flooring over damage.”

Before she could protest, he pulled a Leatherman from his back pocket, dropped to his knees, and began peeling back the edges of the linoleum. The motion was quick, practiced, as if he’d done it a hundred times before.

“You don’t have to fix everything, you know.” Her sharpness surprised her.

Zane paused mid-motion, glancing over his shoulder with one brow raised. “That’s funny, coming from you.”

Her frown deepened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sat back on his heels, still holding the tool. “It means you’ve spent this whole time trying to convince everyone you don’t need help, even when you clearly do.”

Heat rushed to her face, the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “I’m managing just fine,” she snapped, folding her arms defensively.

Zane stood, closing the small distance between them. His eyes locked onto hers, unwavering. “Are you?”

Her breath caught, her heart thudding painfully. He was too close—his height and presence overwhelming—and the intensity in his gaze made her want to look away, to run from whatever he might see in her.

She turned abruptly, grabbed a dish towel from the counter, and pretended to wipe at a nonexistent spot. “You don’t get to judge me, Zane.”

“I’m not judging you.” Zane’s expression was sincere, his tone gentler now. “I’m worried about you.”

His sincerity struck her like a punch to the gut, and she tightened her fingers around the towel as she tried to keep her emotions in check. “I don’t need your worry,” she muttered.

“You might not need it,” he stated, “but you’ve got it anyway.”

The weight of his words lingered in the air. Asha clenched her jaw, trying to ignore the way her throat tightened and her chest ached. She didn’t want this—his concern, his care, and the way he could still make her feel like the center of his world.

Because that meant opening herself to things she couldn’t afford to face—not now, maybe not ever.

And yet, as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, the stubborn set of his jaw and the quiet determination in his gaze made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere.

Zane held her gaze for a moment longer, the air between them heavy with things left unsaid. Asha turned away abruptly, gripping a dish towel like it was a lifeline. He didn’t miss the tension in her shoulders or the way her jaw tightened as she muttered about not needing his worry.

She might not want it, but she had it anyway.

The words had come out softer than he intended, but they communicated his feelings, the concern she refused to acknowledge. Zane didn’t need to hear her story to know it was eating at her. Whatever had driven her to leave, to stay away all these years, it wasn’t only ambition.

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