Page 71 of In Case You Didn't Know
“You didn’t ask her?” I ask. Autumn would never be able to stay quiet under an Asher interrogation.
“As I said, not my secret.”
I take a deep breath. “Yes, she knows. And my cousin Charlie. Plus my editor. That’s it.”
“The rest of your family doesn’t know?” he asks, his brows knitting. “Why not?”
“I just…” I exhale softly, pushing my unbrushed-dried mess of hair from my face. “I guess at first I wanted to succeed under my own efforts. Not because I’m a Salinger, or because my brothers gave me a boost. Half of my family works in publishing. I hated the thought that I’d be viewed as a nepo baby. And then there’s what I write.” I sigh. “My brothers really don’t need to read some of those scenes.”
Asher says nothing. Just looks at me like I’m an algorithm for him to be studied and dissected.
I keep going, because the dam’s cracked now. “The longer I kept it quiet, the harder it was to come clean. Now if they found out, they’d be hurt that I never told them. I guess I’m stuck.”
His expression softens. “You know what I think?” he murmurs.
“No, but I’m guessing it’s going to be wrapped in some gruff, emotionally unavailable big-brother type advice.”
That earns me a faint smile.
“I think they’d be proud. I would be if it was one of my sisters. I’d be fucking delighted for her. I’d want to shout it from the rooftops. You’ve created a world, you delight your readers. I’veread your reviews, Francie. You don’t get those kind of raving reviews because you’re a Salinger. You get them because you’re damn good at what you do.”
His honesty hits harder than I expect. It feels like he believes in me. Not because I’m a Salinger. Or because he’s trying to get in my pants. But because he sees me. And that’s scarier than anything.
Even the spider.
“You should tell them. It’s not good to hide things. Not from those you love.”
I push my emotions down, because I don’t like how they make me feel. “That’s kind of rich coming from you,” I point out. “You’re like Fort Knox when it comes to secrets.”
“I am?” He tips his head to the side. Leaning forward, he lays the manuscript on the coffee table, then stands.
I have to lift my face to keep my gaze on his.
“You hide everything,” I say softly. “Your feelings. Your past. Your real motivations.”
He doesn’t flinch. Just watches me, his jaw tight.
Then his eyes drop to my mouth, his voice a low rumble. “That’s because I like to savor things, Francie. I don’t rush what I know is going to wreck me.”
My breath catches. He thinks I’m going to wreck him? Why does that feel so hot?
Without letting my brain overthink it, I roll onto the balls of my feet and press myself against him.
“Sometimes you need to stop savoring and start wrecking,” I whisper.
His dark eyes lock on mine. His jaw flexes, his hand lifts like he’s going to touch me, but then he freezes. His fingers hover inches from my face, his knuckles pale with tension.
“No,” he says hoarsely. “You hit your head.”
“I’m fine,” I whisper. I look at him, my eyes wide and I swear he winces.
“You’re not fine.” He pulls back an inch, and I wince at the rejection. “The second I touch you I’m not going to be able to stop.”
The air pulses between us. My body aches for him.Kiss me, dammit.
But instead he steps back, just enough for it to physically hurt, and turns away.
“You should lie down,” he says, not looking at me anymore. “And I need to do some work. I’ll use Parker’s office. Shout if you need me.”
