Twenty-one
We stay for another hour, just talking about everything and nothing, and laughing so hard my stomach hurts.
Asher’s mom is like nobody I’ve ever met before. She’s clearly been through a lot, not only evidenced by the facility she’s living in and the bandages covering her wrists, but also by the pain hidden deep in her eyes. But despite all of that, she’s so positive, so full of life. She’s always smiling, always finding the joy in things. Being around her, it’s like a breath of fresh air. I can tell Asher feels that way, too. I’ve never seen him more at ease than when he’s deep in conversation with his mom.
She shows me some of her older work, and I spend every second just completely in awe of her skill, confused as to why she’s not selling these off to the highest bidder. I let her convince me to have a go with her paintbrush, then declare that I’ll just stick to sketching when it goes horribly wrong. After that, she regales me with story after story about Asher’s childhood, which, much to my enjoyment, has Asher flushing with embarrassment again.
When we say our goodbyes, I’m feeling lighter than I have in days. That feeling lasts all the way to the car, then disappears as soon as we shut ourselves inside.
Asher stares out of the windshield again, like he did when we first arrived. He’s completely rigid, practically vibrating with nervous energy. I don’t say a word, just let him have a minute, hoping he’ll talk when he’s ready.
And he does.
“I’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions,” he says, still not looking at me. “I’m sorry for not telling you I was bringing you here. I just thought that—” He stops, lets out a humorless laugh. “I don’t know what I thought.”
“Why did you bring me here, Asher?” I ask slowly, cautiously.
He sighs, runs his hand through his hair. “My mom and dad were so in love. Like, disgustingly so. They were those parents that would get caught making out in the kitchen, or making moon eyes at each other across the room. Even from a young age, I knew what love looked like because I saw it in them.”
“What happened?”
“Life, I guess.” He shrugs. “We needed more money, so dad got a new job in the city. Right away, he was barely at home anymore, always working. But, the pay was good so we dealt with it. Then it started eating into his weekends, too. He missed my football games, even forgot his and my mom’s wedding anniversary. Mom begged him so many times to just quit, told him that family was more important than money could ever be. But, he wouldn’t listen. He said he was finally making something for himself, and the richer he got, the less he seemed like the dad I remembered. It got to the point where when he’d finally come home, we wouldn’t even recognize him anymore.”
I swallow, processing all of that. I guess the sudden change in the photos in Asher’s house kind of makes sense now. They seemed so happy at the beginning, like a real family. And then their smiles started to fade, the cracks started to show. All because Mr Brooks chose a career over his family. That fucking sucks.
“He knew we weren’t happy,” he continues. “He could see it. Could feel it every time he stepped through the door. So, he moved us here, in that big, flashy house, hoping that it would be the fresh start we needed. Got him and my mom memberships at the Country Club, filled her closet with loads of designer clothes, like giving her a lavish lifestyle would fix everything. But, spoiler alert, it didn’t. Things could never go back to the way they were.”
“So, your mom started drinking,” I hedge quietly, remembering his confession that day in the bathroom.
He nods once. “Yeah. I didn’t even realize at first. I was young and naive and I thought that because she was smiling and laughing again, that meant that she was finally happy. But then, I started hearing her crying at night when she thought I was asleep, found the empty bottles hidden in her dresser. It became pretty obvious pretty quickly what she was doing. Trying to numb the pain. While I was at school, she’d spend the entire day in the Club, drowning her sorrows. Then, she’d come home and drown them some more. It was awful.”
“Didn’t your dad know? Why didn’t he try to get her some help?”
“Oh, he definitely knew. There was no way he couldn’t have. But, he never said anything. I even tried to talk to him about it a couple of times, but he shut it down so fast that I could barely get two words out. Sometimes, I think he felt so guilty and responsible for her drinking that he just didn’t know what to do. Other times, I just think he couldn’t find it in himself to give a shit.”
I blow out a breath. “Jesus, Asher. I’m so sorry. I’m—” I cut myself off, not even sure what to say. What can I say to that? Not a single word in the English language will be able to take away the shit hand he’s been dealt, will be able to make it any better.
His head drops, fingers tightening on the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. He sucks in a lungful of air, chest heaving as he lets it out. He’s hesitating, putting off whatever he’s about to say next for as long as possible, and I’ve got a feeling I know what it is. I brace myself, waiting for it.
“It was the end of the summer when she hurt herself for the first time. I’d been out with my friends, dad was working. I was supposed to be out all night, but headed home early. It was late and I thought she was in bed. All the lights were off. It was quiet.”
He stares off into the distance, tears streaming down his cheeks, like he’s reliving the memory. I reach across and grab his hand, slotting our fingers together. It seems to give him the strength he needs to continue.
“I went into the kitchen to get something to drink and… I found her.” His voice cracks, a sob building in his chest. “I called 911 and went with her to the hospital. Phoned my dad from the ambulance and he told me he’d meet us there. It took him four fucking hours.”
I shake my head, my resentment for that man growing to impossible levels. Man, if I could— Something dawns on me, has me whipping my head toward him. “Wait. Did you say the first time?”
“It was pills that time. Something her doctor had prescribed her to help with her low mood. He’d told her that under no circumstances could she take them with alcohol. Of course, she didn’t listen. My dad stuck her in some shitty rehab place not far from town. The staff there were… assholes. It just made everything worse. And that’s where she hurt herself again. She snuck into the kitchen, got a knife and—”
“Asher…”
He sniffles, wipes away his tears with his free hand. “After that, he moved her here. It’s the best facility in the state. The most expensive, too. There wasn’t any improvement for a while, but now… she’s doing a lot better. She’s my mom again.”
“Fuck. I don’t even know what to say. Has your dad been to visit her, at least?”
He shakes his head. “Not once. To him, this whole thing is just a nightmare that he wants to ignore. He pays the bills and tells everyone in town that she’s either on vacation or at a spa. Nobody knows a thing.”
Okay, now it isn’t just resentment I feel. It’s pure fucking hatred. “What an asshole.” I cringe, squeezing my eyes shut. “Sorry. I know he’s your dad.”
To my surprise, Asher lets out a bark of laughter. “Don’t be. He is an asshole.”
“Yeah, last night he wasn’t very… welcoming.”
“Jesus, I’m so sorry for the way he acted toward you. He acts so fucking entitled, like he’s above everyone else. If you don’t have an Amex Black Card or a membership to the Club, then you’re not worth his time. Yet, he seems to forget that we had nothing before he started that job.”
“Why do you let him speak to you like that? Like he did last night, I mean.”
It sounds pretty hypocritical coming from me, considering what I put up with from my uncle. But, there’s a difference. If I don’t just put up with it, I get the crap beaten out of me. Asher’s dad doesn’t do the same to him, right?
“I have no choice. He’s a control-freak and hates when I do anything without his permission. My whole life is micro-managed by him, down to the last detail.”
“Your whole life?”
“Yeah. My friends, my future. As soon as he realized that he could make money off of me playing football, he called up every contact he had and basically bought me a spot in the NFL. Now, he thinks he’s responsible for any success I might have, never mind all the work I’ve put into it. And that guy from last night, the one who recognized you? That’s Peyton’s dad. They’ve been negotiating terms for years. They think our future nuptials will be good for business.”
My eyes almost bug out of my head. “Nuptials? You mean that they want you to get married?”
“I’ve refused a bunch of times, but he doesn’t listen. It’s never gonna happen, though.”
“Are you sure?” My mind screams at me to stop talking, to not say anything else. But my insecurities are rearing their ugly head and taking the reins. “You and Peyton are kind of, like… a perfect match.”
He sighs. “Oakley, you are the only person I can be myself around. My real self. Even if I was into Peyton like that, which I’m not, she’s not you. I only want you.” He turns, facing me for the first time since we started this conversation. “I didn’t bring you here and tell you all of this to make you feel sorry for me or anything. And I know I still have a long way to go, earning your trust. I just… I wanted you to know that I know what it’s like to feel like you’re weighed down by a secret. Nobody knows about my mom. Nobody. You’re the only person I’ve told.”
I drop my gaze, stomach tightening into a knot. He grips my chin and forces my eyes back to his.
“This isn’t just screwing around for me,” he murmurs. “It never has been. I… like you, Oakley. Really like you. So much that it drives me crazy, makes me do stupid things.” He huffs out an awkward laugh. “Like treating you like shit for a whole year, just so I had an excuse to be near you.”
I gasp, heart whooshing in my ears. Fuck, if I had any doubts about his feelings for me before, they’re gone now.
“I’m not trying to pressure you,” he continues. “I just want you to know that I get it. And when you’re ready to let me in, I’ll share the weight. You don’t have to do this alone, Oakley. Not anymore.”
I want nothing more than that, to be honest with him. To bare my soul to him, the way he has to me. To let him share the load. But… I can’t. At least, not yet. If he still wants me around after I’ve escaped my uncle, then I’ll tell him everything. I’ll tell him so much about myself that he’ll probably get sick of me. But, I’ll do it. For him.
I seal our mouths together, kissing him hard before pulling away. “Thank you for telling me about your mom,” I whisper.
“I’m glad you got to meet her. I feel bad, though. I should’ve gave you some warning or— Shit. Did I freak you out by doing this? Was it, like, too soon or something?”
I laugh. “Not too soon. I just wish it had been under different circumstances, where I don’t look like I’ve gone ten rounds with a professional boxer.”
His lips lift, a faraway look in his eyes as he stares at me. “You’re perfect.”
This time, it’s my turn to blush. I duck my head, trying to avoid his gaze, but he just forces my head up again. Our lips meet, tongues sliding together. Asher moans, long and low, gripping my arms to haul me closer.
And there isn’t another place in the whole damn world that I’d rather be, than right here.