Page 19 of Blossoming Dahlia

“Asher? Oh my god.” I groped for the light switch, wincing when I found it and the kitchen was flooded with brightness. Sure enough, Asher was leaning back against the little table, rubbing his jaw with a rueful smile on his face. He still had some tightness around his eyes that told me he was still angry from earlier today. “Fuck, I’m so sorry,” I mumbled, going back in the fridge for a can of soda. It wasn’t an ice pack, but it was cold and should help a bit. I brought it over to him, holding it up against his face where a red mark was already showing.

“It’s not your fault. I thought you saw me on the couch when you walked out. I should know better than to risk scaring you atthis point.” He smiled, his fingers brushing against mine as he moved to hold the can to his face. Heat flared in my stomach, and I dropped my hand like it was on fire, backing up toward the fridge.

“I didn’t even know you were here. When did you get in?” I asked, looking toward the door to the second room. “Is Hunter still here, or did you guys swap out?”

“I just got in a little while ago. Hunter was already asleep so I just sent him a text letting him know not to shoot me when he wakes up.” Asher smiled wanly. He looked even more tired than usual, I wondered what had happened after we’d left today. “What are you doing up so late?”

I shrugged, rubbing my arms absently. “The usual bad dream,” I explained. “I guess that’s why I’m a bit on edge still.” He brought the can down away from his jaw, his forehead creasing in concern. “I was just coming to grab… something. I don’t know, really.” I sighed, opening the fridge again. I grabbed a little bottle of liquor off the shelf at random. It would do in the absence of chocolate or ice cream. “Um, do you need to shower or anything? You can use my bathroom if you like, I won’t be going to sleep for a while,” I offered.

Asher laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry, do I smell that bad?” he asked, and I flushed.

“No, you don’t smell. Just, if you wanted to wash off the day, I meant. I have a hard time winding down after work if I can’t shower or have a bath or something,” I rambled, feeling dumber by the second. He laughed again softly, his eyes sparkling in the dim light.

“Actually, that sounds really great, if you’re sure you don’t mind. I normally would shower after work, but I didn’t want to wake Hunter up when I got in.” He smiled. I walked over to my bedroom door and let him in, trailing after him awkwardly. I sat down on the bed and waited until he disappeared into thebathroom before cracking open the little bottle of what turned out to be rum, sipping it with a small grimace.

Asher must’ve showered with military precision, because it only took ten minutes before I heard the water shut off. I finished off the rest of my little bottle and put the cap back on, twirling it around in my fingers absently. My gaze shot up when the door cracked open and Asher walked out. He was still pulling his shirt back on, and I caught another glimpse of his toned stomach before the fabric covered it. His hair was slicked back and still damp from the shower. He looked somewhat more relaxed, and his jaw was no longer red, so thankfully I hadn’t bruised him. I dropped my eyes before he could catch me staring, focusing on spinning the little bottle in my hand. “Thanks again.” He smiled, stopping at the door. “Are you going to try to fall back asleep?”

“Ya, I guess I should,” I murmured. I was not sure how I would at this point, but if I laid down with my eyes closed for long enough, maybe it would happen eventually.

“Do you want to tell me about the dream? That seemed to help a bit last time,” he offered, taking a step toward me.

“I don’t really remember this one.” I sighed, frowning. “It seems to always be the same thing, though. I’m trapped and unable to move, and he’s just there, about to hurt me.” I shivered and rubbed my bare arms to get rid of the goosebumps that had formed.

“I’m really sorry.” Asher sighed. “And I’m sure today didn’t help either.” I shook my head, biting my lip.

Finally, I couldn’t avoid the question anymore, it sort of bubbled up out of me. “Did you get in trouble today? For yelling at that woman for me?” I asked softly, and he frowned for a split second before laughing. I blushed and picked at the label on the little bottle in my hand, feeling like an idiot.

“No, I didn’t get in trouble. I just had to meet with my unit supervisor, and then I had a check in with my therapist,” he explained, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Oh, I uh, sorry. I didn’t know,” I stammered. Asher was seeing a therapist? That was news to me.

“It’s required after you return from stress leave,” Asher told me. “I had to take some time off after our last case went south and I didn’t handle things as well as I should have.” His face darkened momentarily, and a thousand questions leapt into my head.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I murmured. “Did what happened today remind you of it?” That would explain why he’d gotten so mad.

“Sort of… it’s hard to explain.” Asher shrugged, looking down at his feet. “I guess… sometimes I just have to be reminded that not everything is within my control.”

“Maybe you need to focus on the things that are, and then just… trust that someone else can handle the rest,” I offered, and he chuckled, running a hand through his damp hair.

“You’re probably right,” Asher mused, his lip quirking up in a half-smile. “Speaking of which, you should try to get some rest. Don’t worry about the nightmares. If one comes, I’ll be right outside, maybe I’ll borrow some SWAT gear,” he teased, and I wrinkled my nose at him.

“Goodnight Ash,” I replied, pulling back the covers to crawl back into bed. He gave me a small wave and shut off the light for me, closing the door behind him. I fell back to sleep a little easier, knowing he was right outside.

Chapter twelve

Asher

Ihadn’t been quite truthful with Dahlia, and that made me feel uncomfortable. The truth was, I had gotten yelled at for barging in on the mayor’s speech and making his media coordinator cry. I was on thin ice at work and had to be really careful for the next few weeks.

That was becoming difficult because I was getting too attached to our key witness. Seeing her standing there, terrified and shaking while that blowhard had basically waved her around like a shiny bauble had made me see red. I didn’t get angry often, not like that, and that feeling of rage coursing through my veins scared me. Instead, I swallowed the anger, letting myself get a dressing down from my unit supervisor, and then I scheduled an emergency session with my therapist.

The doctor was a genuinely nice man, always willing to accommodate last minute sessions since his clientele were a bunch of agents with unpredictable schedules. He’d told me basically the same thing that Dahlia had, that I needed to focuson the things I could control and let go of the rest. But that was easier said than done, and at the end of the day, I was still lying awake on a couch that wasn’t my own, thinking inappropriate thoughts about the woman in the next room, anger simmering under my skin.

I wanted to sleep, my body was aching for it. I had a headache pounding behind my eyes that pain killers wouldn’t touch, and there was a restless prickle under my skin that wouldn’t calm down. My mind wandered back to earlier today, when Dahlia had been teasing me and attacking me with beauty products. The feeling of her hips settling over mine had nearly ended me right there. She could’ve done anything to me at that point and I wouldn’t have complained, just to be that close to her. I’d never felt this kind of palpable ache before, it was like I craved her skin against mine. Even now, the mere thought of it had my body responding in a very noticeable way.

I knew I should have mentioned something to my therapist about this, but I was honestly too afraid to even say it out loud. Having a visceral reaction to someone involved in a case was wrong to begin with. But someone who had just gone through a significant trauma? That was twisted in a way that made my stomach clench with guilt and shame. Dahlia had just escaped a man with an unhealthy attachment to her, and now the person charged with keeping her safe was developing one as well? I should be fired, or beaten, for having thoughts like that.

There were outlets for the rage, like going to the gym and burning it off with exercise. But no amount of exercise seemed to help with this, and I didn’t know what would anymore. If I mentioned it to Hunter, he would take me off the case immediately, and then I didn’t know what I would do. I might just go insane at that point. Even leaving her for the afternoon today had been hard enough, and the look on her face when she had seen me tonight...

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