Page 48 of Cruel Debts
The ice creamshop was two miles away. Two fucking miles was not what I considered a short walk. Not at all a short anything.
But I walked it without complaint, because I needed the time out of that damn place. I needed air. I needed space.
And this was the only way I was going to get any right now.
When we finally made it to the safer part of downtown Port Wylde, I sighed in relief, spotting the sign for the business simply calledTwisty Dipsin the near distance.
We were close. Thank god.
"Oh, I amsoready to sit down and eat some soft serve," I groaned, stretching my arms over my head as I turned to look at Asher. He'd been awfully silent the whole way here, only opening his mouth for a comment here and there when prompted and pushed by me. "What's your favorite flavor, Asher? Is it still?—"
"No."
"So it's not mint chocolate chip?"
His stare was enough to melt concrete, but I wasn't about to be swayed by a glare. I'd grown up with Keehn. He could out-glare them all.
"Or was it strawberry?" I pretended to consider the options, knowing damn well he and I both knew I knew what his favorite flavor was. "Hmmm, I can't seem to remember."
He pulled his wallet out of his pants and handed me a twenty-dollar bill with a grumble. "Go get some ice cream. I'll wait here."
I'm not about to let his mood ruin mine, so with a flash of my teeth, I ditched him and hopped in line behind a few teenagers who reminded me of Liam and Keehn when they were younger. Their harmless banter was mild entertainment until they moved out of line to meet up with another teen, and then I found myself up at the counter, staring down a middle-aged man who spent far too long staring at my tits.
"What'll it be?"
I perused the menu for a moment, much to his irritation, but since he stared down my tits, he could wait a damn minute. Assholes like him got what they deserved.
"I'll take a waffle cone with cookies and cream, and another one with cookie dough, dipped in chocolate." I paid the man, and instead of sticking the tip money in the jar that sat beside the man, I handed it to the girl who served me the cones about five minutes later, pleased with the smile she returned when she realized she wouldn't have to share.
I had the feeling the ones who did all the work never saw the money from that tip jar.
Unfortunately, their boss was just like every middle-aged boss man I'd had growing up. Stubborn. Perverted. Assholes.
Men were all the same at their cores.
I bounced back to Asher's side, finding him easily enough—he hadn't moved an inch in all the time I spent in the line. He eyed the cones in my hands and frowned.
"Why are there two?"
I handed him the chocolate-covered one with a grin. "One's for you, dumbass."
His brow quirked up, but he said nothing, just stared at me like I was stupid. "I didn't ask for one."
"I know." I licked my own, making a point to flex my tongue at the end. "But everyone likes ice cream. Even you,."
"Don't call me that again," he growled, snatching the cone from my grip. Like a heathen, he took a bite out of it, like a whole ass chunk, and I winced as I thought of his poor teeth and how that must've felt on their enamel.
Terrible. Cold. Bone-itchingly cringe.
"Is it good? Did I remember it right?" I knew damn well I had, but people change. Tastes change. And I was suddenly overcome with the very real worry that in the time since I'd last seen him, this man's likes and dislikes, his preferences, might've changed, too.
He regarded me with a neutral stare as he mulled over the question. "I don't hate it," he said, which was as close to an admission of my victory as I was going to get. "Yes. You remembered right."
I could have been on cloud nine for all that I knew. All I felt was a floaty vibe straight in the center of my heart, a confidence building there that I hadn't had before.
"Of course I did," I said proudly, leading him over to a nearby park bench. When I tugged down on his hand, he sat, and I remained standing, a hand on his shoulder, my cone in the other. "How could I forget?"
"You always stole mine when I wasn't looking, when you were younger," he remembered fondly, his eyes glazing over as he recalled a shared memory. "I never got a whole cone to myself because you always had to have a taste."
