Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ASHA
"Are you going over there now?" Trigger asks when I step outside. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"
"No, it's fine. I'm not scared of my dad." Even I don't believe the words coming out of my mouth.
Then, the way he pulls my chin to him so I can't hide confirms he doesn’t either. "Then why do you sound like that?"
I roll my eyes and release a long, controlled breath.
"I put pressure on my father, pushed his buttons because I wanted answers.
Now that I might get them, I'm questioning everything.
His confrontation here the other day, and the one you overheard at your father's place…
I don't know, maybe he was right, and some things need to be left in the past."
"So what are you going to say to him? Are you going to ask about your mother and what happened, or do you want to call a truce?"
Trigger told me about his father's relationship with my mother, how our families were friends, and Baylor's parents and my mother's parents hoped for a union between my mother and his father, but they never saw each other romantically. However, they were really good friends.
The way Baylor tells the story, my father was intimidated by that friendship.
He didn't think men and women could be friends.
In his eyes, one, if not both, always hoped to gain something more out of the relationship.
My memories of my mother are fading, and my father's refusal to talk about her doesn't help keep them alive.
But the woman I do remember was kind; she wore her heart on her sleeve and taught me to be brave, fierce, and loyal.
It's that last trait that had me blindly trusting my father, believing that the people who love us the most will never hurt us, but that's just not true.
"A truce would be nice, but I know history will repeat itself if I don't get the answers I seek. I'll be happy until I'm not. It just sucks feeling like I may never look at my father the same, that I may lose him altogether."
"You don't have to lose him just because you learn a truth you don't want to hear. It just might take time to forgive him," he says, placing a chaste kiss on my forehead.
"How do I forgive someone who might be the reason my mother is gone?"
"We don't know that."
"Don't we?" I step back and run my hands through my hair.
"What secret could possibly drive my father to try to break up our marriage and bankrupt your family if not one that could put him behind bars?
" My eyes snap to him. "Your father said, Not only do I know where the bones are buried, I know the stories they tell.
" I throw my arms wide. "What the fuck else could that possibly mean? " I say, practically yelling now.
His face drops as he takes a deep breath. "I don't know, but let's say you're right, that would mean my father is covering up a crime, and while you don't know what to believe about Warrick, I don't think my father would do that, especially after hearing about his friendship with your mother."
I sigh as the tension in my body eases down a notch. He's right, or at least I think he's right. Baylor wouldn't cover for my father, and if by some chance he was, I think the threats my father hand-delivered the other day would push him to his breaking point, and he'd do something about it.
"I have to do this. I saw things going differently when I started this war with him.
I thought he'd see he can't control me, that he can't keep me in the dark, that I'm not the little girl he sent away all those years ago.
I knew marrying you would get under his skin, but I hoped he'd also see that I get to decide what I want, that my choices are mine and mine alone.
And when I chose to ignore his invitations to talk, I saw him coming through my front door with an apology and a truth because the alternative was a future without me.
" My voice cracks with emotion. I know my father can be ruthless; he's built a damn empire.
But I thought when it came to me, I wouldn't be just another transaction.
When he wraps his arms around me and just holds me, I fall more in love with him.
It's what he did the first night I asked him to kiss me, and he's never stopped.
For all the hell my father has put us through, Trigger has always let me lead.
He doesn't pile on his own frustrations or opinions about my father, because he knows the weight I'm already carrying is enough.
If anything, he defends him, and I hate it.
Sometimes you just want someone to validate your anger, but I know why he doesn't. He understands how important my father is to me, even when I can't see it myself.
I might be quick to burn it all down, but he's not. He holds me steady.
"I don't want you to worry. Laney is going to be there, so if for some reason things do go south, I won't technically be alone."
When I agreed to meet with my father, I set a condition: I wanted to get things out of my room.
"Sweetheart, I'm not worried." He pulls back his hands framing my face. "I'll become your father's worst nightmare if he so much as puts the look of hurt in your eyes." His eyes search mine with an intensity that promises retribution. "You're mine to protect now."
The words hang between us, heavy with promise.
Then he closes the distance, capturing my lips with a desperation that matches the fear I've been trying to hide.
I melt into him, my hands sliding around up his sweat-riddled chest, as if he can somehow transfer his strength directly into my bones.
It's not gentle; it's a vow, a brand, a reminder that I'm not alone in this.
"I love you," I say as I head toward the truck. "Also, I'm taking your truck. I know you didn't like that the last time I did it, so…" I taunt.
"The last time you did it, you stole it, and you weren't my wife. What's mine is yours, sweetheart," he says, and I swear his abs literally glisten in the sun. So unfair. When that man is naked, he could tell me to rob a bank, and I’d ask which one.
I slide into the driver's seat, hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. Time to face the conversation I've been avoiding for years.
"Is this box ready to go out to the truck?" Sydney asks as I toss one of my journals on top.
"Um, not yet," I say, looking around my room. "I know I have an album somewhere around here that I want to put in that box."
She gets off the floor and brushes her hair out of her face. "Well, it's not under the bed."
"Why were you under my bed?" I quirk an amused brow.
"You said you couldn't find your mother's locket. I remember you used to keep it on your nightstand." She places her hands on her hips and shrugs. "Thought maybe it fell underneath the bed."
She's dressed down like she came prepared to work, and her skin glistens with a thin layer of sweat since she volunteered to take every box to my truck while I made piles I wanted to take back to the barn.
We haven't been seeing eye to eye lately, and I can't help but feel like that's partly my fault.
She's defended my father, and it's infuriated me.
Yet, I've given Trigger a pass for the same thing, convincing myself he's only staying neutral to protect my relationship with my father, while I've refused to show her that same understanding.
It's not fair, and I know that, but when she started talking to Hollis, another layer of emotions was thrown into the mix.
I can only fight so many battles, and hers wasn't one I had energy for, so I was quick to be dismissive and unforgiving.
"Thanks for coming today. I appreciate you helping me," I say, folding one of my shirts and tossing it onto the bed.
"Don't thank me; it's what friends do."
"Yeah, well, we both know I've been a shit friend."
"Asha, please don't apologize to me. Friends mess up; we make mistakes. We're only human. Friendship means friends stay friends, and the mistakes…" Her fingers twist, and I can tell all of this has tested her too. "Mistakes stay mistakes."
We hug, and it feels like everything has been forgiven, at least for now, and for now that’s good enough for me.
"Have you started on the bathroom yet?" she asks, starting toward it. "Want me to grab your makeup?" she asks, switching on the light as I follow her in.
I take a look around, and most of what's in my bathroom is towels and soap, but it's the soaker tub that steals my focus. God, I can't wait until I can take a long, hot bath again. We only have a small shower at the barn.
The sound of her pulling open one of my drawers draws my attention back to the task at hand.
"I'll go grab a small box," she says, rifling through the contents. "No sense in leaving stuff your dad won't use here."
She pulls something out and sets it on the counter with a soft thud.
A box of tampons. My vision tunnels; everything else in the bathroom blurs except that blue-and-white box.
When did I last...? My mind scrambles backward, counting days, then weeks.
The realization slams into me like a freight train.
Oh God.
Why can't I remember the last time I used one of those? Not just from that box, from anywhere. My purse. The glove box. The spare I keep in my makeup bag.
My hands fly into my hair as I start pacing in the bathroom. "Think. Think," I mumble frustratedly.
Eight weeks since the wedding, but I've been stressed. The entire month before London and Laney's ceremony, I was a mess. Their wedding meant I was closer to my own deadline, closer to losing everything, and out of options that didn't include shackling myself to Trigger Hale.
Stress can do that. Throw everything off. Right?
"Are you okay?" Sydney's voice cuts through my spiral as she re-enters carrying a box. "You look like you're going to be sick."
"That's because I might be."
"Do you want me to get you something to eat? Water?" Her concern feels distant, muffled, like I'm underwater.
I sink onto the edge of the tub to keep from falling, as everything feels like it's tilting sideways.
"Asha, you're scaring me. What's wrong?"
My gaze locks on the box. That stupid blue-and-white box.
"I can't tell you the last time I used one of those."
Her brow furrows as she works to decipher my words. Then, her gaze follows my line of sight. "One of...oh." Her hand flies to her mouth. "You think...you think you might be pregnant? I thought you were on the pill?"
For half a second, relief floods through me. "I am." But then reality crushes back in, and I release a shaky breath. "But I missed two weeks when we went to Spain. Trigger gave me ten minutes to pack. I was so focused on grabbing clothes, I didn't..."
I don't tell her I didn't think I'd need them. That this was supposed to be temporary. That he was never supposed to end up in my bed, under my skin, and thoroughly wrapped around my heart.
"I refilled it when we got home, but—"
"But for two weeks, you were having unprotected sex." She finishes what I can't.
I nod. "Yep."
I've never told Sydney and Laney the whole truth about my marriage. I don't think they completely bought the story we sold that night at the wedding, but the roots don't matter anymore. I love him. I'm not leaving him.
"So what are you going to do?"
"I need to take a test." I stand, my legs still shaky. "I'll reschedule with my dad."
"What?" Sydney's voice spikes. "Why would you do that? You're already here."
I don't know why she's so insistent that I have this conversation today. You'd think that out of the two of us, she'd care the least about me confronting him. I blink the thought away.
"I can't talk to him with this hanging over my head. My mind will be anywhere but in that room. I have to know." I move past her toward my bedroom.
"Wait," she practically screeches.
I turn and find her biting the edge of her thumb, her face pale. "I have a test."
The words land like stones.
"You have a test?" I question carefully. "Why do you have a pregnancy test?"
"I wasn't supposed to say anything." The words tumble out too fast, like she’s nervous. "That's why I'm here instead of Laney. She got sick this morning and asked me to pick one up for her. Please don't tell her I told you."
She's already crossing to her purse, digging through it before I can form a word, but something doesn't fit. I watch her fumble with the zipper, and a certainty settles in my gut. Sydney has known Laney since they were children. She was there the day everything changed, and we held our friend as we heard the news that there most likely won’t be a next time.
There's no way Sydney forgot that. Which means this test was never meant for Laney.
She pulls the box from her purse and crosses to me.
Our eyes meet for just a fraction of a second, and in that look, there’s something raw and unguarded, before she glances away.
I take the box without a word. Whoever this test was really meant for, I'll find out when she's ready to tell me.
Or I won't. That's her ghost to carry. Right now, I have my own.
She nods toward the door, backing away like she can't leave fast enough. "I'll give you a minute."
"Yeah. Okay."
The door clicks shut, and I'm alone. Just me and a piece of plastic that holds more future than I can process.