Second Sets Omnibus

Twenty-Two - Asher

Pressing my fist to my lips, I cover up the pain-filled whimpers trying to escape. Leaning my head back against the wall I’m slumped against, I squeeze my eyes shut. The truth finally set me fucking free from the lies I cultivated so damn easily. The guilt that gnawed at me for the past five years ebbs away—no longer sitting heavy on my chest, aching to spill the beans. The burn still sears through me, but it’s muted slightly, overturned by the new demand to make the situation right. Driving me to jump head-first into the churning ocean of my betrayal and mend what the fuck I broke. For the first time in years, I can breathe fresh oxygen. Metaphorically, of course.

Pain ricochets through my whole damn body, bouncing around every place; Callum and Kieran’s fists pounded into me. Rightfully so. Every punch they rained down on me was penance for my unforgivable sin—my betrayal of the only family I could ever count on.

I’m such a worthless asshole, undeserving of so many things.

I groan, sitting perfectly still inside River’s house. At any moment, I know she will kick me to the damn curb. As I deserve, I know that. Who would have sympathy for the likes of me? A traitorous dickbag who couldn’t handle a woman coming between his other band members. Definitely not her. Not that I blame her one bit.

But where the hell do I go? I could go back to my townhouse on the other side of the city and sit in my damn misery by my lonesome, letting it swallow me whole. If it comes down to it, that’s my only option. Kieran, Callum, and Rad would obliterate me before they let me back in that house. Fuck.

“Here.” Peeking an eye open, I stare at the blurry slender hand in front of my face, blinking until it’s entirely in focus. “Let’s get you on the couch,” she says softly, wiggling her fingers. Pain still fills her eyes from my confession, but she’s extending a small olive branch despite it all.

“Why?” I grunt, shifting on the floor. “I can leave.”

“You could. Or you could take my hand,” River snarks, wiggling her fingers again. “It’s not that hard, Evil Ash,” she murmurs my old nickname with a pained expression.

“Thank you,” I mutter, reluctantly grasping her hand and letting her pull me to my aching feet. Violent pain shudders through my body when I stumble up, gasping for air. “Shit,” I wheeze again, clutching my ribs with urgency. With every move I make, my ribs splinter like they’re about to break and spear me in the lungs. River has the patience of a saint as she slowly leads me to the couch and helps me sit on the edge.

“Let me get you some ice,” she says through a heavy sigh, retreating quickly into the kitchen. Coming back, she gently lays a soft ice pack on my swelling eye and hands me two pain pills with a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” I rasp. “But I don’t understand why you’re taking care of me. I expected—” Rage. Hate. Heated words. Anything but the pity in her eyes. Fuck. I want her anger or fists or anything but her kindness because I don’t deserve an ounce of understanding.

“For me to kick you out in this state? You look like shit.” She raises a brow, settling on an ottoman across from me, leaning her elbows on her knees. Her eyes track my movements as I settle on the couch, trying to get comfortable and not hurt my ribs more.

“After what I did—” I trail off, averting my eyes to my lap in shame. “Why’re you helping me now? I screwed you over so fucking royally.” Deep remorse once again turns my stomach into knots.

“Yeah, you did,” she agrees, running a hand down her face. “You really went behind my back and used my obsessive ex against me. He forced himself on me, Asher. Van marched into my kitchen and took what he wanted.”

“Fuck,” I heave, squeezing my eyes shut. My stomach rolls at the idea of him waltzing into her house and doing that. She didn’t deserve that shit. Not again. “I’m so fucking sorry he did that. I’m sorry I went to him and trusted him to help me.” If I could build a time machine, I’d go back in time and kick myself in the balls.

River gives me a blank look, blinking several times. “You forced them to walk away from me.” Pain laces every inch of her words like that was the worse offense. Dropping her head back, she stares at the ceiling and releases a breath. “But I can’t believe I’m fucking saying this—I get it. I don’t know what the hell your home life was like?—”

“You see this right here?” I ask, cutting her sentence off and pulling up my pant leg. Drawing her eyes to the thin surgery scar on my ankle, she nods, inspecting it as my finger rubs up and down the raised skin. I take a deep breath, losing myself in the awful memory of my father’s rage.

“Stay down there until you learn your lesson!” Tears prickle at my eyes, staring up the long, dark staircase at my father’s massive figure. Agony spears through my twisted ankle, instantly ballooning out. “Worthless,” he snarls, shutting the basement door behind him, leaving me with only my pain, tormented thoughts, and pure darkness.

Goosebumps prickle at my skin. My heart rate accelerates and sweat glistens on my skin from the vivid video-like memory roaring through my mind. Swallowing hard, I shove it all down, trying to forget. What my father put me through was nothing a child should have endured. Yet, I did—we did. Kieran and I have been on the battlefield together, forging our bond through our hellacious trauma. It’s why we worked so damn hard to keep him away from Cami. Even if it meant more punches and punishment, she was safe.

“My father had this insane rule of being seen—not heard. I was seven and dropped a glass while trying to get some milk—” My breath shudders, jumping back in time to when I was a scared seven-year-old kid with wide eyes, looking down at the remnants of my glass shattered on the ground. “All I wanted was a little drink before I went to bed, but he heard. Stormed out of his office with this rage-filled face. He scooped me up, yelling profanities in my face, and then—” I swallow hard, squeezing my eyes shut. A slight tremble takes over my fingers, still mindlessly tracing over my scar. “He opened the basement door and threw me down the stairs. I hit every fucking step on the way down and finally landed at the bottom with a twisted foot. The agony was so fucking real. My foot was on fire, and then…he just shut the door and told me I could come out when I learned how to be quiet.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” River mumbles, turning a sickly green. My stomach bottoms out when sorrow shines in her wide eyes.

“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat. “I’m not telling you that for any sort of pity. I just want to help you understand why I was so fucking desperate to leave Central City.” I lick my lips, taking a big breath. “I passed out on the ground, only waking when he forced me to my damn good foot. He yanked me up the stairs and told my nanny to take me to the hospital. He couldn’t be bothered to care for me. After explaining that I had accidentally fallen down the stairs, I had to go to surgery. That hospital was my only reprieve from him. My father was a sick son of a bitch. He took his anger out on Kieran and me for years. He was going to make us follow in his footsteps.” I shake my head again, groaning at the pain. “So, he gave our band a year to make it…and I was so fucking determined to get away. I wasn’t going to let anything get in my damn way… Not even you,” I whisper the last part, firmly shutting my eyes as the tears burn.

”So, that’s why you hated me so much,” she murmurs, breaking me out of my self-deprecating fog. “I was in your way of getting out of there.”

I bark out a humorless laugh, shaking my aching head. “Quite the opposite, Little Brat,” I rumble through the pain, cringing when my laugh sends pain through my ribs.

“So you didn’t hate me?” she asks, raising a skeptical brow.

“It took me way too long to realize how I felt about you.” Biting into my bottom lip, my body sags with the realization I’ve kept under wraps for so long. “I craved you just as much as the other three. But I fucking fought it. I fought everything about you because you scared me. No one in the history of the damn world, except my mom, had ever made me feel the way you did. So, I did what any asshole would do. I tucked my tail and ran the fuck away.”

“But you still…” she trails off, shaking her head.

“Yeah, I still did. My fear led me down that road to do what I did. I was so desperate and scared that I let it get to me. I destroyed something so fucking beautiful because I was a selfish fucking bastard.”

River blinks at me a few times, processing my words as silence engulfs us. “You can stay here tonight,” she says, getting up and walking toward the freezer again. “Here, take another ice pack so your face doesn’t swell too much.”

“But why?” I whisper, holding tight to her wrist as she sets the new pack on my eye. “I don’t understand.”

She gives me a tight smile, takes her hand back, and sighs. “I’m not your karma, Asher. You have to face down what you’ve done. Do I forgive you for breaking my trust and putting a dangerous guy in my path? No. Not by a long shot. You’ll have to earn that. Somehow… But it’s not me you have to get the most forgiveness from. It’s them. They were your family—your brothers. But by the look on your face, you already know that. You’ve probably tortured yourself. Honestly, I don’t understand how you’ve lived with yourself.” She shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest.

I snort. “Not very well. Sleepless nights. The heartburn. My fucking guilt ate away at every inch of me and having to face the guys I deceived so cruelly… Yeah, I fucking hate myself for what I did.”

“It’s a start,” she says with a small shrug, taking a few steps away but stopping abruptly in the doorway. “It’s for Lyric.” Her tiny voice carries through the room, leaving a crater in my chest. “You’re staying because she knows who you are, and I can’t drag my kid away from her daddy. She already loves you, and I won’t destroy that love by forcing you to leave.”

“Thank you,” I breathe in relief. “I know I’m a big fucking disappointment, but I want to…I want to be there for her for everything. Now that I know… River, thank you for giving me a chance to prove myself to her.”

She nods a few times. “Just don’t break her heart like you broke mine,” she whispers, leaving the living room altogether.

“I won’t,” I vow to no one, sinking further into the couch and trying to get comfortable despite the pain pulsating through my body.

From this day forward, I’ll be the best version of myself for Lyric. For a chance to fix things with River and the guys. I’ll never keep another secret again.

For a chance to prove I’m not the Asher Montgomery from five years ago. No more lies. No more secrets.

Just me.

The following morning, I startle awake at the sound of a sweet little voice in my ear. Her little fingers sweep down my broken face, tracing what I can only assume are bruises darkening my skin.

“Daddy. Oh, no,” Lyrics mumbles softly, laying her head on my aching chest. “What happened? Did you get beat up?” her little voice shakes when I finally crack my eyes open and run a hand through her hair.

The darkness of the room greets me with the first hints of the sun rising in the sky. A heavy sigh rocks through me when I look at the clock on the wall, noting it’s only six-thirty in the morning. Fuck. Way too damn early to be awake.

“I’m okay,” I mumble, bracing her head against my chest in a soft hug. “Why’re you up so early?” She hums in response to my question.

“But you’re hurt,” she mumbles through a crack in her voice. “You got a bruise right here,” she says, poking my face and making me flinch away from her touch.

“I do,” I say through a breathy laugh. “But I’ll be okay,” I whisper, kissing her head. Bringing myself into the seated position, I pull her into my lap, wrapping my arms around her. Despite the pain spearing through me, I settle her securely against me until she hugs me back with a relaxed sigh.

“What happened to you, Daddy?” she asks, blinking up at me.

“Just grown-up stuff. It’s nothing, Little One,” I say with a tight smile. “How are you this morning? Did you have good dreams?” She grins big and nods in response.

“I dreamed of pancakes. Daddy, I want pancakes,” she whispers, batting her eyelashes at me. Well, who can deny those puppy dog eyes?

A laugh spills from my lips, and I nod. “Of course. Should we look? See if we have anything to make pancakes?” She beams, jumps off my lap, and drags me into the spacious kitchen.

“Here!” She points to an upper cabinet storing the pancake mix and grins when I pull it down with a pained groan.

“All right let’s get to work,” I say, smiling down at her beaming face.

Over the next thirty minutes, Lyric helps me mix the batter and oil the pan. She giggles with me, getting the mix all over her face and fingers. Our pancakes morph into weirdly shaped blobs rather than round.

“Taste good?” I ask when we sit together at the island on stools with plates in front of us.

“The bestest,” she says, shoving a big piece of pancake into her mouth, sticky syrup hanging from her chin and sticking to her fingers.

“Well, looks like you made a big breakfast,” River says, eyeing Lyric affectionately. A smile grows across her lips when she kisses Lyric’s head as she walks by.

“Me and Daddy made yummy pancakes!” She giggles around another bite, humming with satisfaction.

Whenever she says Daddy to me, I swear joyous butterflies burst in my damn soul. A smile creeps across my lips when Lyric side-eyes me with a giddy giggle, tearing into another misshapen pancake.

“There’s plenty more,” I softly say, nodding toward the plate on the stove filled to the brim with pancakes.

River’s brows rise as she pulls a plate and coffee cup from the cupboard. “I didn’t know you could cook,” she says, plopping a few on her plate and pouring some syrup.

I shrug. “I learned to do a lot of things myself as a kid. My father went through a lot of nannies and eventually left me to my own devices at eight. Well, until Gloria came into the picture with Kieran.” I swallow hard, finding relief flooding me as all the pent-up childhood memories flood out my mouth unbidden.

“Ly, I think it’s about time for you to wash your hands and get dressed for school,” River says, scoping up Lyric’s empty plate.

“I’m sick,” Lyric says, frowning when her mom takes her plate away and sets it in the sink.

River snorts. “I don’t think so, missy. Up. Dressed. School. We have ten minutes.” She raises a brow when Lyric stubbornly crosses her arms over her chest and pouts with a little huff of annoyance.

“But I want to stay with Daddy,” she grumbles, stomping her feet.

“Better get to it, Little One. Daddy will be around later, okay?” I say, ruffling her ratty dark locks, earning a huff.

“It’s a never-ending cycle,” River sighs, watching Lyric’s retreating back as she scurries down the hall and slams her bedroom door shut with a heavy thud.

“Does she fight it every day?” I grunt, grabbing my plate. Stiffly, I shuffle to the sink and clean our plates off.

“Since the day she started preschool. I’ve asked her why she dislikes going, but she says she’s bored and the youngest one there. I just hope it’s nothing like bullying or anything else. She seems happy in the classroom. At least that’s what her teacher says. I don’t know.” She shakes her head, heaving a frustrated sigh. “So, every day, we have this argument,” she hums softly, looking toward the hallways as little steps come our way.

“Ready!” Lyric announces through a big grin, marching into the living room ten minutes later, wearing a little frilly blue dress, leggings, and flat black shoes with bows on them. Her once ratty hair is brushed out, and her face is clean of the evidence of our sticky breakfast.

I can’t help but smile at her when she proudly beams up at me.

“You look beautiful,” I say with pride.

“Thanks, Daddy!” she says, throwing her arms around my waist. “Are you coming to take me to school today?” she asks, batting those damn eyelashes again, wrapping me further around her damn finger. My eyes flick to River, and she nods without reluctance. “Let’s get you to school,” I whisper, bending and kissing her cheek, reveling in her tightening hug and happy squeal of delight.

I swallow hard when she lets go and takes off, grabbing her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder. Without waiting for us, she marches out the front door toward River’s SUV in the driveway.

“Thanks for letting me tag along,” I say, clearing my throat as we step out into the warm morning sunlight beaming down on us. Momentarily, I lift my face toward the sun, soaking in the day’s warmth and basking in its refreshing glory. Today is a new damn day, and I am a new man.

After locking her front door, River turns to me, shrugging. “I told you I won’t keep her away from you. You’re her father as much as the other three are.” Her brows furrow when she digs into her pocket and brings her phone out. Tapping a few times, she opens something, and her body freezes. A slight tremble takes over her hands as she scrolls up on her phone and leans in with a horrified look crossing her face. A ghostly white complexion drains the color from her face, and her eyes widen almost in fear as her eyes rapidly move across the screen.

“What’s wrong?” I ask sharply, stepping closer and putting a hand on her stiff shoulder. “River?” Gently, I squeeze, coaxing her out of whatever trance she had been put in.

Her eyes widen when she takes me in, realizing she’s been stuck on the porch for a solid minute. With a head shake, she brushes off my touch with a tense smile.

“N-nothing,” she stammers, unsteadily taking off toward the vehicle. “I’m fine.”

I furrow my brows when she shakily gets into the driver’s seat, heaving a few breaths until I follow and get into the car. Yeah, fucking right. It’s not nothing. Something spooked her, and I’m determined to find the cause. Whether she likes it or not.

As we drive toward the school, worry eats away at me. River doesn’t say a word about what happened. She talks back to Lyric, who excitedly chatters away about anything and everything she can think of, avoiding my quizzical gaze. After about ten minutes, we arrive at Lyric’s school and drop her off at the drop-off line. As Lyric exits the car, she grins at me through the window, waving as her teacher takes her hand. I watch with rapt attention when she stands in line by the school door, chatting with a little boy.

“Who is that?” I mumble, pointing to the little boy, throwing his arm around Lyric’s shoulders with a grin. He lights up at the sight of her.

River snorts. “That would be her boyfriend. Oh, and that one, too. It seems she’s collecting boys.”

“Wait! What?” I hiss, staring at the two boys walking Lyric into the building with grins on their faces. “No fucking way,” I grunt, attempting to open the door. “River.” I narrow my eyes at her, but she scoffs, driving off.

“Nope. Leave her alone. She’ll grow out of it. Besides, you’d be a hypocrite.” I frown, sit back in the seat, and stare out the window as the horizon blurs by.

“I guess,” I murmur, sucking in a breath as I look at the time. “So, will you tell me what freaked you out back home?” I ask, raising a brow when she drives up her long driveway and parks in front of the band house.

“No,” is her simple answer as the locks disengage, and she stares over at me expectantly. “It’s time to face the music,” she says, waving toward the house. “I have an errand to run. I’ll be a little late.”

“Does it have to do with the text, email, or whatever you got?” Stalling. I’m fucking stalling before I have to walk into that house and face the men I betrayed, too. River may go easy on me because I’m one of the fathers of her child, but they won’t fucking care. They’ll beat my fucking ass again. Not that I don’t deserve it.

Her lips roll in. “Yes,” she says reluctantly. “I need to go take care of it. But you all have band practice in an hour. So, might as well tear off that Band-Aid.”

I snort, staring up at the looming structure with apprehension. “Yeah. Like a Band-Aid,” I mutter, nervously biting into my lip. “If I’m not here when you return, they’ve buried me somewhere or set me on fire. It’s up to them, really,” I quip, fighting through the nerves that are begging me to run the fuck away again.

But that’s not me anymore. I don’t run from the problems I created. I go at them headfirst, even if I’m about to die. Nothing but the truth moving forward.

“I’ll make sure your obituary says something about how bullheaded and brave you are,” she jokes with an edge to her voice.

“You sure you’re?—”

“You’re stalling, Evil Ash. Get it over with or walk away. Talk to them. Do something other than avoiding the problem. If you leave this house by the time I return, I’ll assume it was too much, and Whispered Words will be done with West Records. It’s up to you to mend the brotherhood you snapped into pieces.” Every word she speaks lights a fire under my ass, motivating me to walk up those stairs and face the guys who hate me more than anything now.

“You’re right. Thanks,” I say softly, opening the door and stepping out. “But whatever is bothering you, you know we’ll help. We’re here for you. Even after all this time.”

“Thanks.” She nods a few times and finally takes off, leaving my traitorous ass in the middle of the driveway.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. A lying, manipulative piece of shit,” Kieran says from the porch, sipping a piping hot coffee.

I brace myself for the abuse from my brother and nod. “You’re right,” I say, lifting my chin. “But if I leave now, she’s promised to rip up our contract. Either I’m here as a band member, or we’re done as a band forever.”

Kieran sits back in a patio chair, taking another sip, contemplating my words. “Don’t expect those bruises to fade any time soon.”

“Fine.” I shrug, ready to take my punishments like a damn man.

“Good,” Kieran says through a sadistic grin, standing from his chair. “Watch your back, Asher. You have no friends in this house anymore.”