8. Asher
Chapter 8
Asher
“ W ell, that’s not great.” I look up at Dalton from where I’m lining up the tinned food I found, trying to decide what to eat. We’ve been in the cabin for an hour, which means we’ve missed dinner and my stomach is not happy about that fact. My ankle is aching, but it was thankfully a lot less serious than I first anticipated and I can put pressure on it even if I'm now hobbling a little.
I snapped at him out there and I feel guilty about it, so I'm trying to make it up to him. Falling down a hill is scary, it fucking hurt and throw in that I'm trying to keep my distance yet he wanted to throw me over his shoulder and yeah, it was all a little too much.
“What’s not great?” I eye him as he leans against the kitchen door frame, running his hand through his hair and tugging on the ends.
“Dad texted, said he spoke to the resort's management and they’ve said that thanks to the blizzard, the road here is blocked and there’s no way for them to reach us.”
“For how long?” Selecting a tin of tomato soup, I open it then pour it into a glass dish and place it in the microwave.
“Dad said the news is reporting the storm is going to last at least another 48 hours and then they’ll be able to send someone down to clear the road and fetch us.”
My hand stills as I'm setting the timer. “Forty eight hours? That means we’ll be here for -”
“Christmas,” Dalton confirms, cutting off my words while nodding his head. His blonde waves are pointing in all directions from the wind and the way he keeps running his hands through them. “We’re stuck here for Christmas.” He frowns, his lips pursed in a thin white line before he sighs. Dalton loves Christmas - the music, the gifts, the tree, the silly games our families play on the day and especially the food. I look again at the contents of the cupboard and wonder what I could possibly make to cheer up my best friend.
“I know this isn’t how you wanted to spend Christmas, Dalt, but on the bright side, we’re both safe and reasonably warm.” I shiver as I speak and wrap my arms around myself. There’s no heating in here and now that I’m no longer wrapped in a blanket, I can feel the chill seeping through my clothing.
“I’m going to see if I can find some firewood. There has to be a store of it somewhere,” he says, then comes towards me and pulls me into a hug, kissing the top of my head. My immediate reaction is to sink into his warmth, and as I do, his citrusy masculine scent wafts over me and I remember that I’m meant to be putting space between us. When my body finally catches up to my brain, the muscles in my back tense and I push Dalton away.
“Let me make us a cup of coffee - there’s no milk but plenty of sugar.” I busy myself with making the drinks but don’t miss the fact that he hasn’t left the room or even moved. I can feel his eyes boring into the back of my head.
“Why do you keep doing that?” My heart races, and I fumble with the teaspoon, splashing coffee onto the counter. We have two days together, I really don’t want to talk about this now and make this whole stuck in a cabin together thing awkward.
“Do what?” I try to act like I have no idea what he’s talking about but fail miserably, my voice coming out as a weird squeak.
“Don’t pretend with me, Ash. You’ve been like this since we arrived. Aloof. Staying away from me as much as you can. Distant. Do I need to go on?” My eyes catch his and I see the hurt in them, swimming in the depths of his baby blues.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to confess, to tell him how I felt after he rejected me, to tell him how he makes me feel and how I’m trying for the sake of our friendship and my erratically beating heart to put some distance between us but I’m saved by the microwave ding.
The coward in me delights at the interruption, waving him off as I retrieve the glass dish. “I’m not pretending, Dalt. Let me dish this up while you find some firewood, we can eat in the lounge.”
He studies me for a moment before grunting and leaving the kitchen. Movement against my leg catches me off guard and I look down into the brown eyes of the little dog that followed us in - the cause of this whole mess. “You hungry too buddy?” Checking the tins we have, I settle on a tin of tuna, opening it and pouring it into a bowl. The dog guzzles the fish down, barely tasting it then looks up at me with hopeful eyes. “Sorry little bud, we need to ration out what we have.” It yaps then hobbles alongside me to the lounge.
Dalton rounded up some firewood and the fire is now blazing, bathing the room in warmth and a comforting glow. He’s playing Christmas songs on his phone while he lies on the sofa and I’m sitting next to the fire, the dog's head resting on my lap.
“What should we call him?” Dalton asks, tipping his head towards us.
I fiddle with the collar around the dog’s neck, twisting it until I can make out the text on the silver disc attached to it. “It’s a her, and her name is Beate.” She responds when I say her name by wagging her tail and nuzzling further into my lap.
“Unusual name, can’t say I’ve heard that before.” Dalton rolls over onto his side so he’s facing us. His cheeks are rosy pink from the fire and I get momentarily lost in the reflection of the flames in his eyes.
“It means ‘blessed’,” I say, turning away from my best friend and focusing on the flames - they crack and cackle behind the metal grate.
“You speak Austrian?” Dalton asks, and I turn back towards him, a smile playing on my lips.
“It’s German. They speak German here,” I correct him but suddenly worry that my words were a little condescending. When Dalton doesn’t respond, I’m about to apologise when he speaks.
“Huh. You learn something new every day. But that makes me a little sad.”
I raise an eyebrow his way. “Why does it make you sad?”
“Because someone must really love her to have named her that. They must be upset not knowing where she is.” He rubs at his chest as though the dog being lost is hurting him. “We’ll get you home, buddy, don’t you worry.” He smiles at the dog before turning his grin on me.
God, I want to get up and hug him, to curl onto the sofa and watch the fire burn together. “Come and lie with me,” Dalton asks, like he’s reading my mind, lifting up the blanket to show me the space next to him .
Shaking my head, I swallow thickly, “No, I’m good here.” I pat Beate’s head, but the traitor gets up and deposits herself on the sofa at Dalton’s feet.
“Come on Ash, it’s cold and it’s snowy and the only entertainment we have is this fire. Lie with me.” Dalton’s words are pleading and my heart aches at the distance I’ve put between us, but I tell myself for the millionth time that it’s for the best.
“I’m good he-” my words are barely out of my mouth before Dalton flies off the sofa coming to stand over me. He’s so much bigger than I am, even more so while I’m still sitting cross legged on the floor.
“For fucks sake, Ash! What is going on? What have I done wrong?”
Emotion builds in my throat and I swallow it down as best I can, getting to my feet to stand in front of Dalton. My ankle throbs as I take a step back, away from his hand dangling just inches from my own.
“You’re pushing me away,” he bangs his hand against his chest before continuing. “I can feel it, this gap that’s suddenly growing between us, and it fucking hurts. Just tell me please, what did I do?” His eyes are wet and it’s all I can do to not reach for him. Lane’s words run through my mind and I decide to go with the truth, even if it makes the next two days unbearable. After this, there is every chance our friendship may change for good.
“I just need some space. You’re still my best friend but I need this.”
His mouth falls open before he slams it shut then watches me silently before speaking again. “Why do you need space? I know I’m a little much at times, but you’ve never had a problem with it. Why now?”
“Because it's getting harder.” I tug at my own hair, spin around and start pacing the room, knowing I'm not making much sense to him. It's just so hard to say what I need to say.
“I don't understand, Ash, please help me understand. What's getting harder? Being my friend?”
My heart, my chest, my head - it all aches at the sadness in his voice and I snap, hating myself for being the one to put it there. Twelve years of friendship and the only secret I've ever kept from him comes rushing out.
“Being your friend and loving you!” My voice booms around the fire lit room.
Dalton takes a step forward, his hands open like he's approaching a scared animal. His eyes are wide and I'm not sure which of us is more surprised by me raising my voice. “But you've always loved me, just like I love you.”
A humourless chuckle leaves me as I shake my head. “I love you, Dalton, yes but I'm also madly in love with you. I have been in love with you for years and every time you smile at me, or touch me or… no, every time you are simply around me, I fall in love a little harder.” I pause, taking a deep breath before continuing. In for a penny and all that. “When you refused to kiss me, even for a silly game, I knew I was being ridiculous harbouring these feelings for you. You think of me like a brother, you said it yourself, and until that moment I'd been fooling myself with a morsel of hope.” His steps falter as he takes in the sad look in my eyes. His own are glittering and for the first time since I met him, I cannot read the expression on his face. Dalton doesn't say anything, so I continue with my rambling.
“I put some space between us, thinking if you just touched me less, leaned on me less, needed me less, then maybe I'd get over it. That I'd get over you. Don't think I don't know how unfortunate it is to be in love with someone who will never love me back in the same way.”
The silence that ensues has me regretting every word out of my mouth. I feel on edge, my stomach twisting in knots, my feet restless as I wait for him to say something, anything . Dalton looks at me, his expression still unreadable and I break the silence again, hoping I can somehow erase everything I said.
“Look, forget every-”
“I didn’t know,” Dalton finally says as he takes two small steps towards me. We’re standing directly in front of the fire and I can feel the heat of the flames radiating against my legs. My cheeks burn in much the same way as he reaches his hand out and links his pinky with mine. This time, I don’t pull away, my gaze moving down to where we are touching. That he hasn’t run away or gotten mad at me for my confession has tiny hopeful butterflies taking flight in my chest but I try to ignore them, well aware that Dalton still standing here, holding my hand doesn't mean anything more than it did that night at the party.
“I didn’t know,” he says again. “I had no idea you felt that way about me. And -” Dalton’s words cut off as he looks over my shoulder before his blue eyes meet mine. “And I didn’t kiss you because I wasn’t about to steal your first kiss from you. I don't think of you as a brother - I just said that to get out of the dare. It never had anything to do with who you are, but everything to do with what you deserve.” His throat bobs as he steps forward, closing the gap between us and placing his hands on my cheeks. Those butterflies erupt, now at danger of escaping and I feel like my heart is about to join them with the way it’s thumping erratically against my ribcage.
I presumed he didn’t want to kiss me because I’m me - dorky, small, boring Asher, his brotherly best friend - but I was wrong. He was looking out for me - the same way he has been since the day we met.
“What do I deserve?” My voice is quiet, but he hears me. His blue eyes lock on mine before they dip down to my lips and then back up.
“Everything Ash, you deserve everything.”