Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Where did you go?” I ask, cutting to the chase. He knows I’m referring to the past three years and gives me a long look before deciding to answer.
“It’s a long story,” he starts. “But the important part is that I ended up in a small town in Northern California called River’s Edge.”
“And?” I prod, needing more of an explanation than that.
“And, I met a guy named Dare who has his own roofing company. He took me in, taught me the trade, and then when he started the process of opening up his own tattoo shop, I sort of took over.”
“Oh.”
I’m not sure what else to say. He always wanted to leave, and I understood why. It’s the timing that never made sense to me. I guess I had it in my mind that there was some big secret that stole him away from me. Like jail or boarding school. But the fact that he just…started over elsewhere? That stings, though it shouldn’t.
“What about you?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused.
“What did you do while I was gone?”
I shrug. “School, mostly. Acted as a referee between Dash and Dad whenever they were together. The usual.”
“Still want to be a nurse?”
I look over at him in shock. I mentioned that in passing once, when I was maybe fourteen.
“I do…” I say, trailing off.
“But?”
“But, my dad wouldn’t ever go for it. He’s still pissed at Dash for not going to Harvard.” What he doesn’t know is that I have a pile of acceptance letters that have lapsed in my dresser drawer. I didn’t make a decision, and now it’s too late for any of them.
“Fuck your dad,” Ash says darkly and with more anger than is warranted for this conversation. “What do you want?”
“Honestly? I have no clue. None.” The problem is that I want to do everything and nothing all at once. I can’t commit, and regardless of what I do, I’m letting someone down.
“Then, be undeclared. Or take a year to figure out what you want to do. Life is too short to live for someone else.”
I nod, knowing he’s right, but he doesn’t understand, not really. It’s not easy saying no to my parents.
“Let’s play a game,” I suggest, changing the subject. Asher looks at me warily.
“Okay…” he drawls out. “What do you have in mind?” He rakes his fingertips up the sides of my thighs and back under my dress, meeting my bare skin. I already want him again.
“Not that kind of game. A question game. I ask you a question, and you give me a straightforward answer, no bullshit,” I stress. “Then you get to ask me a question. Deal?”
“Deal,” he agrees, and we both head in the direction of the grandstand, through what used to be the food court. The place is so quiet that I could probably hear a pin drop from the other side of the building.
“So, you weren’t hooking up with Whitley while you were gone?”
Asher stops short and turns to face me, his expression dead serious. “Not even once. I never saw her while I was gone.”
I nod, waiting for his question.
“Does any part of you still want Jackson?” He doesn’t waste any time asking. I think he more than knows the answer to this question, but I give him the reassurance he needs.
“Not even a little bit,” I say with the same sincerity in which he answered me. “He was nice. You were gone.” I shrug, as if that’s all there was to it. There wasn’t much more than that, to be honest.
“Are you going to leave again?” I ask, voicing my biggest fear.
“Probably,” he answers honestly. His head is down, hands in his pockets, as he angles his body toward the dark sky through hollow windows while I die a little inside.
“Why did you help my dad?”
I suck in a breath. I knew this one was coming. “I’m sorry,” I start, but he puts a hand up and stops me.
“That’s not a straightforward answer, Bry.”
“Okay.” He’s right. “Um, because I felt bad for him. I felt that he truly regretted how he treated you. And I knew that he was still your father. I wanted to take care of him for you. It made me feel closer to you, too.”
Asher doesn’t speak. He stares out at the silhouettes of palm trees against the night sky, and I can see the tension in his jaw. I decide to hit him with a not-so-loaded question.
“Did you miss me?”
“Every fucking day. Even when I despised you.”
“Why did you—” I start to ask, but he tsks and wiggles a finger at me.
“It’s my turn.” Oh. Right.
“Did you miss me?”
“So much it hurt.”
His eyes snap toward mine.
“What are we?” I ask, even though my heart is in my stomach waiting for his response.
“I don’t know,” he says, coming closer. He moves my hair off my right shoulder, bringing his mouth close to my neck. “What do you want to be?” His breath dances across my exposed skin, and I shudder with anticipation.