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“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters in defeat. “Got any advice on keeping Tera from sticking her nose into trouble every chance she gets?”

I crack up at the visual and toss out, “Sit on her. Keep her close. There’s nothing wrong with a little trouble if you’ve got backup.”

“You say that with the best intentions,” he shakes his head.

“I could be backup,” I wheedle, earning myself a glare.

“No fucking way,” he denies me with a glare of determination.

The instant denial hits me in the chest, leaving me floundering. I figured he would brush me off. Not like this, though. He looks furious that I even suggested it.

I try to shrug off the instant shutdown between us, but I can’t find anything to joke about to take the sting away.

“One week,” he breaks the tense silence as we reach my apartment entrance.

“For?” I prompt him slyly. I’m starting to feel hopeful and trying to hold off my excitement. I’ve wanted to meet them so badly, I’m practically frothing at the mouth over it.

“You can meet them in one week.”

I try to hide it, but I’m already squealing with happiness.

“Calm down,” he snaps. “Just you. Don’t tell anyone. Good night.”

“I love you, Asher,” I scream after him.

He gives me an irritated look over his shoulder and his usual head nod. It cuts my happiness in half as I watch him walk away. I’m not going to wallow. I’m a big girl, and he’s a man who’s got himself locked up in an icy fortress.

He says it to Maman. All the sisters say he’s said it to them. I’m suspicious of that, though. He’s never once said it to me or Joseph, our stepdad.

I don’t want to think about what that means.

He walks to his car parked close to my shop and calmly drives away. He never looks back.

Chapter Three

Adelaide

I’m tempted to leave the shop closed today. Not for any reason other than I’m moping. Spending time with Ash is a double-edged sword. It’s great, but it hurts and leaves a lasting mark. I’m never going to tell him that, though. It isn’t his fault that he’s afraid of getting close to me. I blame our father for that.

I glance in the mirror of the bathroom and see my roots beginning to show. I hate my hair. I’m the only one of my siblings who’s a brunette. The other four have Maman’s beautiful blond locks. I’m stuck with the muddy color our father had. I’ve learned to cover it up so no one will notice. I’m surprised Asher didn’t comment on it last night. It’s past time for another visit to the salon.

I choose to run late and spoil myself with a coffee that no one can afford, with as many pumps of pure sugar as I can take. It’s so sweet that there likely isn’t any coffee in it. Perfect.

I see a young woman huddled in front of the door, waiting for the shop to open. I’ve never seen that before, so I hurry up to reach her with a shamed smile.

“Sorry about that. I thought I deserved some spoiling today.” I shake the coffee cup as my proof. “Forgive me?”

“Sure.” The woman has a hushed voice that seems almost afraid.

I fumble to get the locks turned and usher her inside.

“You ok, honey?” I lean to try to get a look at her face, but I freeze up.

A scar runs through her left eyebrow from the middle of her forehead down to her cheekbone. It’s rough and jagged, violence screaming out from the mark. The eye is blind and milky-white in color. I’m bowled over by the obvious pain she’s survived.

“Come have a seat,” I gentle my tone, which makes her angry.

“I want a flower.” The fierce demand, coupled with a menacing glare, startles me.