Page 8 of Asher

Then I sighed and brought something up that we seemed to bicker about, “What is it going to take for you to call me Asher?” I asked.

Chloe shrugged, “I don’t know.”

I took a pull from my beer and then said, “I don’t think it’s disrespectful.”

She shrugged again.

“What if you called me something else that only you called me? Would that help?” I asked.

She lifted her head, “Like what?”

Fuck, if I knew. Hell, she could call me dickhead or asshole. I was just tired of the Mr. Hendrix shit. But then, one name came to mind, “Ash?”

She wrinkled her nose, “No way. That’s a girl’s nickname. And you are definitely not a girl.”

I had to bite back the words along the lines of,glad you noticed.

Because I didn’t know where the hell that thought came from.

Thankfully before any more could be said and I creeped myself out and crossed lines that didn’t make any fucking sense to me, Stella came back and asked, “What are you two talking about?”

Chloe sighed, “Your dad is getting fed up with me being respectful and calling him Mr. Hendrix.”

Stella snickered, “I’m surprised he’s put up with it for this long.”

Chloe shrugged, “I can’t help that I was raised with manners.”

Stella placed her hands on her hips, “Are you saying I was raised in a barn?”

Chloe snickered, “If the shoe fits.”

I chuckled at her answer, and then she looked at me, then at Stella, and sighed.

Then she looked back at me, “You’re not going to give in to this, are you?”

I shook my head slowly, “No, ma’am.”

She sighed, “Fine. I’ll stop calling your Mr. Hendrix, and I’ll call you Pres.”

I felt something in my gut tighten.

What the fuck was that about?

That would have been perfectly acceptable.

But before I could put words to my thoughts, my mouth said, “No. Doesn’t seem right either. You’re not a brother. It’s Asher or nothing else.”

She sighed.

Then, in an exasperated way, she rolled her eyes and said, “Fine. Asher.”

And the moment I heard my name fall from her lips, I had to pretend I got a call and then walked away like I had the hounds of hell on my heels.

She’s sixteen.

She’s my daughter’s best friend.

What the fuck had I been thinking?

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