Chapter 106: CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SIX

ASHER

She shivered.

It was small. Impossible to miss when I was this close. The kind of reaction that betrayed her before her mouth had any chance of catching up. I felt it more than I saw it…the slight tautness in her posture, the hitch in her breath, the way her fingers curled against her thigh like she needed something to hold onto.

Good.

I didn’t move away.

“Because you can keep blaming the journal if you want,” I continued quietly. “That’s the easy version. Clean. Convenient. But we both know that’s not why you could barely look at me this morning.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed.

“Asher.”

My name came out low. Warning and plea tangled together.

Jace laughed at something on the tablet, completely absorbed, the sound a reminder that we weren’t alone even if, for a second, it felt like we were. I still didn’t give her space. Not yet. Not when she was this transparent up close.

“You kissed me back,” I said. “You let me touch you. You came apart for me behind that house, and then the second the world got heavy again, you shoved me into the nearest category that made you feel safer.” My voice stayed soft, but there was an edge under it now. “So I’m asking again. Is this about the journal… or the fact that last night didn’t feel like a mistake while it was happening?”

Her eyes closed for half a second.

When she opened them, the conflict there was almost enough to make me want to push harder and ease off at the same time.

“You don’t get to do this,” she whispered.

“Do what?”

“Corner me with the truth like it gives you the right to it.”

I pulled back just enough to see her face properly. Flushed. Tense. Beautiful in the exact way that had been wrecking my concentration since the party.

“Maybe not,” I said. “But I’m doing it anyway.”

For a moment neither of us spoke.

The air between us felt tighter than the room should have allowed. Her pulse was visible at her throat. Mine was nowhere near as steady as I wanted it to be either, which only made the whole thing more dangerous.

Then Jace twisted around on the couch.

“Are you guys fighting?” he asked brightly, far too interested.

Avery stepped back so fast it almost looked instinctive.

“No,” she said quickly. “We’re not.”

I watched her put the distance back in place with visible effort, and something restless coiled low in my chest.

Not anger.

Not exactly.

Just the growing certainty that whatever this was, she could deny it all she wanted.

Her body already hadn’t.

Before either of us could push the moment further, soft footsteps approached from the hallway.

Ms. Rosa appeared in the doorway with a folded towel over one arm. Her eyes moved from Jace on the couch to Avery, then to me and warmed immediately.

“Still here?” she said, smiling. “That’s good of you.”

“Just checking on him,” I replied.

She nodded, then looked at Avery with unmistakable meaning. “You should really thank him properly, you know. Not everyone would show up like this for your brother.” A small pause. “It’s nice, seeing you with a boyfriend who actually pays attention.”

The silence that followed was immediate.

Avery’s entire body went rigid.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she said quickly, heat flooding her face. “Ms. Rosa—”

I should have corrected it.

I didn’t.

Instead, I let the corner of my mouth lift, just enough.

“She’s shy about labels,” I said.

Avery’s head snapped toward me so fast it was almost impressive.

Ms. Rosa’s expression flickered with surprise, then amusement. “Oh. I see.” She waved a hand, already deciding not to get in the middle of whatever she’d stepped into. “Well. Labels or not, thank you for looking after Jace.”

She crossed the room and scooped him up with practiced ease despite his weak protest.

“Come on, little man. Bath time before you turn into a permanent fixture on that couch.”

“I’m not dirty.”

“You’re always dirty.”

Jace twisted in her arms long enough to wave at me, then disappeared down the hall with her, his voice fading as he continued negotiating the injustice of personal hygiene.

The second they were gone, Avery turned on me.

“What the hell was that?”

“What?”

“‘She’s shy about labels’?” Her voice was low and furious. “Are you insane?”

“She assumed. I didn’t correct her.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“Not legally.”

“Asher.”

I pushed off the side of the couch and grabbed my keys from the table. “Relax. I’m going to pick up the cookies before your brother starts a campaign about it.”

She folded her arms. “Good. Go.”

I looked at her.

“You’re coming with me.”

Her laugh was short and disbelieving. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I have absolutely no reason to get in a car with you right now.”

I stepped closer, lowering my voice even though the hallway was empty.

“You have one.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t.”

“Come with me to pick up the cookies.”

“I said no.”

I held her gaze, calm and deliberate. “Or we can stay here and talk about how many pages of that journal Ms. Rosa might find interesting if it ever slipped out of my possession at the wrong time.”

The color drained a little from her face, then rushed back in pure anger.

There it was.

The line she still hated that I could use. The one that still worked, no matter how complicated everything else between us had become.

For a second, she just stared at me, fury and disbelief warring openly in her expression.

Then she exhaled hard through her teeth.

“Fuck you.”

I smiled, slow and humorless.

“Very soon”

She snatched her phone from the table hard enough to make the sound sharp in the quiet room, already storming toward the door like proximity to me was a personal insult she intended to survive out of pure spite.

I followed, keys turning once around my finger.

She could hate me for the journal.

She could hate me for the leverage.

But she was still coming with me.

She was already at the door by the time I caught up, shoving her feet into her shoes with the kind of violence usually reserved for people, not footwear.

She yanked the door open and stepped outside without waiting for me. I followed, locking it behind us out of habit, then descended the steps two at a time to match her pace.

She stopped beside the passenger door of my car and glared at it like it had personally betrayed her.

“I can walk,” she said.

“No, you can’t.”

“Watch me.”

I unlocked the car. “Get in, Avery.”

For a second, I thought she might actually refuse out of pure principle. Her hand hovered near the handle, jaw tight, pride visibly at war with the reality of the journal still sitting in my possession like a loaded silence neither of us had to name again.

Then she pulled the door open and dropped into the seat hard enough to make the car shift slightly.

I got in on the driver’s side, shut the door, and started the engine. The low purr of it filled the space where conversation should have gone. She stared straight ahead, arms folded, the green of the trees outside sliding across her expression in broken pieces of light.

We pulled away from the curb.

One block.

Two.

She still didn’t speak.

I glanced at her once. “You’re sulking.”

“I’m contemplating violence.”

“That’s cute.”

“Say cute again and I’ll test the durability of your window.”

My mouth curved. “There she is.”

She turned her head just enough to glare at me. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like this is funny. Like forcing me into your car with blackmail is some charming little routine we do now.”

“I asked you to come pick up cookies.”

“You threatened me with my own journal to pick up cookies.”

“Details.”

That earned me a short, disbelieving breath. She shifted in the seat, the movement restless, like sitting still beside me required effort. We drove in silence after that until we got to the bakery and I parked

I parked in the small reserved space near the side entrance and shut off the engine.

She stared at the front of the shop. “You don’t even use the main door?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Unbelievable.”

I opened my door. “Come on.”

“I’ll wait in the car"

I leaned down slightly, one hand on the roof of the car, meeting her eyes through the open door.

“You can come in with me,” I said, “or you can sit in here. I’m not forcing you.”

That made her pause.

Surprise flickered across her face before she could hide it.

“Oh,” she said slowly. “So you’re giving me a choice now?”

“Yes.” A small smile pulled at my mouth. “You don’t have to come with me.”

She scoffed, clearly unconvinced. “That didn’t sound genuine.”

Still, she unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car. I stepped back to give her room, then led the way toward the side entrance instead of the circus at the front. She followed without comment, arms folded, the grudging kind of compliance that somehow still felt like a victory.