CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Asher
Sixteen Years Ago
“Ledger?” His shoes crush the dead leaves on the ground as he makes his way into the clearing. I’m on my feet the second I see the angry red mark on his cheek. “Oh my God. What happened?”
He shrugs his arm out of my grasp and walks to the creek’s edge. Hands on his hips, shoulders moving up and down with his anger-fueled breaths.
I wince at his rebuff, uncertain what to do or what to say. Clearly, he’s pissed off. Obviously, he got in some kind of fight—or at least was punched.
I’m not exactly good at dealing with bruised egos.
“Did you get in a fight with one of your brothers?” I finally ask.
“No.” He bites the word out, and I retreat a step.
“Are you okay?”
Another sharp, “No.”
I shift on my feet. I twist my lips. I figure it’s best to just leave him alone. Obviously, something happened and, as much as I want to know what, I don’t deserve to be snapped at for asking.
What wisdom would Gran give me right now? Give him space? Leave him alone? Feelings take time to verbalize?
I decide to wait him out, so I take a seat at the base of the old willow tree and lean against the trunk.
It’s our spot.
He can’t be mad at me when I’m sitting in our spot, right?
“Is this what you deal with here? In your own town?” he asks and then turns to face me, his eyes alive with anger.
“What did you do?” I ask, dread filling my stomach.
“I broke some fucking guy’s nose is what I did.”
“You what? Ledger.” I struggle to find words. “What do you mean you broke someone’s nose? Who was it?”
“Some prick talking absolute shit about you.”
“What did he say?” I whisper and take a deep breath as I brace for an answer that I guarantee I’ve heard different variations of during the sixteen years I’ve been on this earth.
His stare is unrelenting, and his clenched jaw only serves to highlight the red on his cheek.
I can’t look at him. I don’t want to meet his eyes and see that he looks at me differently now that he’s heard the shit said about me.
She’s a whore, just like her lowlife of a mother was.
She’s a bastard who even her own mother never wanted.
She kind of looks like so and so. Do you think he could be her dad?
Could you imagine wanting to kiss her? She might be your half-sister. Disgusting.
I’ve heard them all. I’ve cried over them.
I focus on the wind rustling through the willow tree above. The white petals of the wild daisy in my hand as I pluck one off at a time. The chirp of the birds flitting about overhead.
Anything other than letting him see the shame that is eating me whole. Anything other than finding out he believes any of it.
I was able to keep him away from it all last summer. I was an idiot to think I could do the same this year.
It’s too hard to speak, so I keep staring at what’s left of the daisy blurring from my welling tears and brace myself for what comes next.
Ledger’s ridiculously expensive tennis shoes come into my view as he steps up to me and squats down. I still can’t look at him.
“You don’t deserve this, Ash. None of it.
You couldn’t pick the mom you got any more than how fortunate I am to be born into my family.
It’s all a crapshoot. It’s all . . .” He growls in frustration and hucks a rock as far as he can throw it.
It hits the water with a loud plunk. “It makes me so mad that you have to deal with that. That you have to hear that utter crap.”
I shrug. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Yes, it is,” he practically shouts at me. “It’s horrible and wrong and—”
“And I’ve lived here my whole life, so for the most part, after sixteen years, they pretty much don’t say it to my face. At least there’s that.”
He shakes his head. His hands are fisted. His teeth are gritted.
“What did they say?” I ask again.
“Nothing.” He plops down beside me, his arm going around my shoulder and pulling me against him. “It’s nothing.”
“Which one was it? Bastard-child Asher? She’s a slut just like her mom?
She’s a homewrecker and needs to go?” I shift so I can face him, our knees bumping against each other’s.
“You’d think after all this time they could think up new ones.
” I emit a self-deprecating laugh to hide how I’m crumbling inside.
“It wasn’t anything.” And the way he says those three words and the glance he gives me says it all—the slight was too harsh even for him.
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Ledger. I need to know so I can protect myself.” He looks out toward the creek, and I grab his hand. “Please.”
“It was just something about how easy you must be, because you’re just like your mom, and questioning if I’m afraid I’ll catch something.”
I blink the tears away, hating that he won’t look at me.
I will not let their words get to me.
I will not let him pity me.
I will not . . .
“Forget about it.” I grab his face and press a kiss to his lips. At first, they remain rigid and angry before slowly softening and kissing me back.
It’s like little explosions of warmth happen all over my body when Ledger kisses me. Little acknowledgments that he sees the real me. Likes me for me. It’s the only time I know I’m looked at and not judged. It’s the only time I can let my guard down.
When the kiss is over, I rest my head on his shoulder and we sit like this for some time, lost in our thoughts.
I don’t ask who made the comment.
Needing to know isn’t a necessity.
Because whoever it is today, it will be a different one tomorrow. And even a different one the time after that.
Gran and Pop have taught me that no one else defines my worth but me.
But it still hurts like a bitch, regardless.
“Thank you for defending me. You didn’t have to. I’m sorry you got hurt,” I whisper and press a kiss to his cheek. “Do you really have to leave next week?”
He links his fingers with mine and sighs.
The topic we’ve been avoiding the last few days is his inevitable departure back to Manhattan and his fancy prep school.
We did this last summer—said goodbye before school started—and somehow stayed in touch.
His coming back gave me something to look forward to.
His calls, while he was gone, helped the time pass.
I just hope we can make it work this time too.
“I’ll be back next summer. We can talk all the time on the phone and text and Skype, just like we did this year. We’ll make it work, Ash.”
“I don’t want to let you go.”
He chuckles as we fall into our routine. “You have to, though.”
“On one condition.” I quirk an eyebrow at him, going for humor to mask my sadness.
“What condition is that?”
“That you promise me you’ll come back next year.
That you promise me you won’t forget me.
” My voice breaks on those last words. All I can think about is the rich, sophisticated, beautiful girls at his prep school back home.
Ones who have moms and aren’t called sluts.
Ones who would gladly enjoy Ledger’s kisses and attention just as much as I do.
How can I compete with that? How will phone calls and texts beat sitting beside them in class every day?
He reaches out and runs a thumb over my cheek, his smile soft, his eyes warm.
“You’re my lavender girl. How could I ever forget you?
” He presses a kiss on my lips. “Stop worrying. They’re all pretentious and ridiculously shallow,” he says, reading my mind.
“And I’ll make sure I talk about you so much that they’re all jealous of you.
” Another tender kiss. “I won’t forget you.
I wouldn’t be able to even if I wanted to. ”