32. Under My Skin
Chapter 32
Under My Skin
Asher
I wake up, and Esme isn’t in bed with me. I stretch and adjust my cock, our make-out sesh, and now the morning wood, has me hard as a rock. Last night was good, though, so much intimacy without going anywhere. There’s something special about sharing that with someone.
I skim my hand over her side, and it’s cold. I immediately sit up and listen for any signs of her, but I don’t hear anything. Bruno is whining at the door, so I get up to let him out. He runs off to take his morning pee, and I peek out to see what’s going on. Everything looks normal outside, where the fuck is she?
I close the door and get dressed, making sure I check the bathroom in case she’s being ultra quiet. No luck, so I head to the house. Maybe she crawled back into her own bed? Although I’m not sure why she would’ve. Oh well, I’ll just surprise her with breakfast again, and maybe we can have a repeat of the last time I surprised her in that room.
I go into the house and, once again, don’t see anything unusual. I shrug, I must be going crazy. I continue my mission and make some eggs and waffles. I plate them up and head up to her room. I give a little knock before going to open the door.
I open it, and I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. There’s nothing here. Her boots are gone from the corner she always puts them in. I put the plate down and go over to her closet. Empty. What the fuck.
My breathing picks up, and I start to feel sick to my stomach. There’s no way. I check her bathroom, empty. Her nightstand has been cleared. It’s like she was just a dream this entire time. A ghost of what was here.
I grip my hair at the roots and pull at the strands. The back of my throat burns while I dry to hold back the tears.
I spin around the room and look–this has to be a mistake. Everything was so good, or at least I thought it was.
One more glance at her bed has me noticing the small white piece of paper sitting there. I walk over and grab it. My eyes scan over the note, and my eyebrows furrow together more with every word. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
I am so sorry. There’s nothing I can do to explain me leaving like this except I tried to tell you and it was just too much. Too hard. I’m sorry. I’m sorry it has to be like this. I’m sorry we can’t be everything we’re destined to be. I felt it too Ash. I have to do what’s best for us. Please don’t come after me. Live your life.
Thank you for the last eight weeks. I’ve learned so much and have experienced things I never have before. I’m a completely new person thanks to you.
Take care of yourself
-Princess
Tears spill over and onto the paper in my hand. She left. She left me. She chose to run away and not choose us. I stiffen my back and wipe my face. Fuck. This. Shit. I throw the paper back onto her bed, grab the plate, and walk out of the room. I have chores to do. I can’t waste my time moping over some girl.
* * *
Well, I’ll admit that chores are more work without her here. I forgot just how much she did to help out around here. I haven’t had tar hands from picking tomatoes once this year, and all of a sudden that tomato vine smell is doused on me like a new cologne. There’s no escaping it now.
Chores are also eerily quiet without having someone singing or talking through every single one. I feel like I have to put in headphones just to ease the silence. It’s just way too quiet.
My mind keeps replaying where things could have gone wrong. Where I fucked up or where I read into something that maybe wasn’t there. Every time I question things, I have to remind myself that she even said that she felt it too. So I’m not fucking insane.
I haven’t even gone and talked to Phillis and Peter yet. Honestly, I’m too pissed about it. They had to have known. She had to get to the airport somehow. Why couldn’t they have told me? Why keep this shit from me?
* * *
After chores are done, I decide to head into town and get a drink. Everything I do around here is reminding me of her. I need something strong to get my mind off of her. I jump in the truck, crank the music, and speed off down the dirt road. Fuck these feelings.
I pull up to the bar and throw my truck in park before I jump out and march into the bar. I throw myself onto the first available stool and immediately flag the bartender down.
“Yikes, rough day?” he asks as he walks up.
“Yeah, you could say that. Uh, lemme just get a whiskey neat please.”
I watch as he picks up a bottle and pours two fingers deep.
“This one is on the house,” he says as he pushes the glass in front of me.
“Thanks,” I murmur as I throw the whole thing back. I immediately pull my wallet out for my card and raise a finger up to get another one. I will need a lot of this tonight. Whatever it takes to forget her.
“Just open a tab,” I say as he pours me another and takes the card. Tonight, I’m drinking to forget. “And just keep ’em coming.”