Page 37 of Faking All the Way
“Have fun shopping.” He leans over a bit to catch my gaze before I close the door.
“You too. I mean, not fun exactly with your dad, but… you know what I mean. See you at two.”
He chuckles, and the sound makes my stomach flip. “See you at two, bright eyes.”
I close the door and then watch him drive away, his taillights disappearing around the corner. I stand on the sidewalk for a moment longer than necessary, still feeling the phantom press of his lips against mine.
And as I turn to head into the boutique, part of me wonders if I’ve already broken my promise to Samantha about not getting too invested.
Chapter Fourteen
Asher
As I head toward Edward’s house, it strikes me that the heavy weight that sat in my chest the last time I made this drive, pressing down like an anchor, isn’t there. Or at least, it’s not as oppressive as before. Maybe Kat was onto something with her advice about having something to look forward to afterward. About giving myself a reward for getting through the hard stuff.
Or maybe it’s because I can still taste her on my lips. Can still feel the brush of her breath against my skin and the way her fingers felt against my jaw, hear the soft sound she made in her throat.
I reach over and mess with the dashboard controls, adjusting the heater even though it’s already set exactly where I want it. Then I fiddle with the radio, skipping through stations without really listening to any of them. Anything to distract myself from the way my cock twitches at the memory of her mouth on mine.
When I pull up outside Edward’s house, I give myself a couple of seconds before I turn off the car, taking a few deep breaths. Then I get out and head up the walkway to knock onthe door. It takes him a little while to answer, but then the door swings open.
“Asher.” He dips his chin in greeting, balancing on his crutches just like last time. “Come on in.”
Before I can even take my coat off, Murphy comes rushing over from wherever he’s been lurking, meowing so loudly that it’s almost like a bullhorn.
“Hey, big guy,” I say, crouching down to scratch behind his ears. He starts purring like a small motor, butting his head against my hand with enough force that I nearly lose my balance.
“He’s been waiting by the door for the past hour,” Edward says. “I think he knew you were coming.”
I glance up at Edward as I continue petting Murphy, and I notice immediately that he’s moving more stiffly than he was yesterday. His face is drawn, with lines of pain etched around his mouth and eyes that weren’t as pronounced last time I saw him. Even the way he’s standing on the crutches looks more labored.
“You okay? You look like you’re hurting more today than yesterday.”
“I’m fine,” he says, but he grunts in pain when he shifts his weight and accidentally jostles the boot against the doorframe.
“When did you last take your pain meds?”
“This morning, I think.” He pauses, his brow furrowing. “Or maybe it was yesterday evening. I don’t remember exactly.”
“Dad.” The word comes out before I can stop it, and we both freeze for a second at the slip. I haven’t called him that in years, always using his first name to maintain distance. “Edward,” I correct quickly. “You need to take them. That’s what they’re for.”
“I don’t like taking them unless I have to,” he says, making his way slowly toward the living room. “They make me foggy, and I hate not feeling sharp.”
“You’re not doing yourself any favors by being in pain. Where are they?”
He points toward the kitchen counter. “In the white bottle next to the coffee maker.”
I grab the pill bottle and a glass of water, bringing both back to where he’s lowered himself into his recliner. I watch him take the medication, making sure he actually swallows it.
“Now you’re going to sit there and rest that leg,” I tell him. “I’ll take care of the stuff that needs doing around here.”
“I can help,” he protests weakly.
“You can help by staying out of my way and letting those meds kick in. What needs to be done?”
He gives me a short list. The radiator in the living room has been making weird clanking noises and not putting out enough heat. There’s a loose cabinet hinge in the kitchen that needs tightening. A couple of light bulbs in the hallway need replacing, but the fixture is too high for him to reach safely on crutches.
I start with the radiator, grabbing some tools from Edward’s toolbox and then kneeling down beside it to get a better angle on the valve. Unfortunately, as I get to work, Murphy decides he needs to be directly involved in the process too. He keeps rubbing against my arms, nearly knocking the wrench out of my hand, purring so loudly I can barely hear the sounds the radiator is making.
