Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother Chapter 28

I sit cross-legged on a beat-up metal chair, the kind that wobbles if you shift wrong, and watch Asher work on Tyler’s car.

When he said he needed to fix it, I pictured him tossing the keys to some garage guy and leaning against the wall looking cool for an hour.

Not... this.

Asher’s the one doing the work himself, sleeves shoved up to his elbows, hands streaked with grease, arms flexing under the faded black fabric of his shirt every time he tightens a bolt or leans in under the hood.

Veins line his forearms, sharp and defined, like the whole world’s tension is coiled under his skin, ready to snap.

I look away fast, my face heating.

Great. Fantastic. Let’s just ogle the guy who still hasn't smiled at me once today. Totally normal behavior.

Still, I’m... grateful he asked me to come.

If he hadn’t, I would’ve gone home and curled up in bed, letting the dark eat away at me piece by piece.

This is better.

This is... distracting.

I bounce my knee and tap my fingers against my ankle, watching him work in silence for a full two minutes before I decide — screw it.

If he's going to be a grump, then I’m going to see how long it takes to make him crack.

“Serious question,” I say, tilting my head.

He grunts — I’ll take that as permission.

“How long can you hold your breath underwater?”

“Three minutes.”

He doesn’t look up, just tightens something with a wrench.

I blink. “That’s terrifying.”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal.

I kick my foot lightly against the chair leg. “Do you eat real food in the Navy or is it just, like, protein bars and sadness?”

“Real food,” he says, reaching for a new tool.

Pause.

“Mostly sadness.”

A snort escapes before I can stop it.

Progress.

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Are you scared of the dark?”

“No.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“No.”

God, he’s worse than a Magic 8-Ball.

Still — no smile.

I narrow my eyes, tapping my fingers again. Thinking.

New strategy: absurdity.

I sit up straighter, clasping my hands together like I’m interviewing him for a very serious government position.

"Can you kill someone with just one hand?"

This time, he pauses.

Straightens up a little.

Turns just enough to look at me — not a full turn, just a sharp sideways glance under dark lashes.

He doesn’t answer.

Just raises one eyebrow in a slow, deliberate way that basically says, *what do you think?*

The air between us tightens, something hot and strange threading through it.

I clear my throat and plow on like I’m not blushing.

"Right, dumb question," I say brightly. "You’re probably a Level Twelve Ninja Assassin or whatever."

He doesn’t even bother to correct me. Just ducks back under the hood.

I keep going because now it's a mission.

“Have you ever been attacked by a shark? Got stranded on a desert island? Escaped a prison camp?”

“No. No. No.”

Each word clipped, dry.

I hum thoughtfully. "Well, that’s disappointing."

A beat.

Asher finishes tightening something, wipes his hands off on a rag, and leans his hip against the car.

Crosses his arms.

Looks straight at me.

“Do you always talk this much?” he asks, voice low and deadpan.

I fake a thoughtful frown, tapping my chin.

"Hmm. Most of the time, yeah."

He nods once, completely serious.

"Explains why Tyler would rather kick a ball."

I blink.

Did...

Did Asher Hayes just make a joke?

For a second, I'm too stunned to react.

Then laughter bursts out of me before I can stop it — bright and unexpected and way too loud in the empty garage.

"You're a jerk," I say, half laughing, half accusing.

I grab the nearest thing — a crumpled rag — and toss it at him.

He catches it without even blinking and drops it neatly onto the workbench like I just handed him something fragile.

I cover my mouth to stifle another laugh, watching him like he’s some weird wildlife discovery.

Grumpy Mechanic Makes First Joke In The Wild: A Rare Sighting.

He shakes his head once, almost like he's disappointed in me, and goes back to working on the car.

I fall quiet after that.

Not because I’m upset — not even close — but because watching him is somehow enough.

The way he moves.

The focus.

The lines of tension running through him even when he’s still.

He’s so different from Tyler, from everyone I've ever known, that it almost makes my chest ache. He scares me and makes me feel safe at the same time.

I just sit there, legs swinging lightly, and let the silence stretch between us.

Not awkward.

Not empty.

Just... there.