Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Asher
“ S hit,” I mutter, turning up the windshield wipers as high as they’ll go.
It’s only five-thirty p.m., but it’s pitch-black outside. The snow started an hour ago. At first it was the good kind of snow. The perfect snow that we saw out of Julie’s office window the day of her panic attack. But the closer we get to Wichita, the worse it gets, and now, about forty-five minutes outside the city, it’s a full-blown blizzard.
Ordinarily, I would make light of this. The Range Rover can drive through anything, and I have a full tank of gas and plenty of snacks, and my favorite girl is in the passenger seat. But Julie is still barely speaking to me, and my nerves are shot.
I had plans for today. We were going to stop in Leavenworth, Kansas to see a museum full of carousels. And then when Julie had her fill of the whimsical and insane, we were going to drive to Topeka to the Brown v. Board of Education National Historical Park because Emma told me that Julie’s favorite classes in law school were Constitutional Law and Education Policy, and I thought she would like it. Instead, Julie texted me early this morning that she had to do some work, and would it be okay to leave later than we planned and drive straight to Wichita without stopping. If she really had to work, of course I wouldn’t care, but she didn’t.
I glance over at the passenger seat where she is curled up against the door again, this time with earbuds in her ears. Her eyes are closed, her hair falling in her face.
She has effectively shut me out in every way possible, ducking back down behind the walls that she has slowly been lowering to me. I want to tear my hair out of my head.
With my mind wandering, I don’t see the car in front of me start to spin until it’s too late. It’s a small sedan that has no business driving in this weather, and with the road snow covered and slippery, its back wheels lose traction quickly and it careens into a full spin, heading straight for us.
Julie gasps, her hand flinging out and clamping onto my leg. I grew up driving in Boulder in all kinds of inclement weather, so I react on instinct. I tap the brakes and steer the SUV as gently as I can into the next lane, thanking whatever higher power is out there that the road is relatively empty. Miraculously, the car in front of us recovers from the spin unscathed and continues on its way in the storm.
I should be shaken by the near miss, but I’m distracted by the feel of Julie’s hand. It’s the first time she’s touched me in twenty-four hours. It’s just a hand on my leg, but with the way my heart knocks against my ribs, it might as well be a hand right on my dick. All too soon she seems to realize what she’s doing and pulls her hand away like my leg burned her. Saying nothing, she starts scratching at her wrist. I know she won’t let me help her, and suddenly my giant car is too small and there isn’t enough air and I need to get the fuck out of here.
I steer the car over to the shoulder and throw it into park. Pulling out my phone, I open a browser and search “hotels near me.”
“What are you doing?” They’re her first words to me in hours.
“The snow is getting bad, so I think we should stop for the night.” I turn to look at her. “Are you okay with that?”
She just shrugs. Okay then. I turn back to my phone and the first listing is for Roses and Lace Inn four minutes away. I do a quick scroll through the pictures and it looks nice enough, so I pull the car back onto the road and take the next exit.
The inn sits at the end of a long, winding driveway with a canopy of leafless trees that sway in the swirling snow. The whole effect is reminiscent of a nineteen-sixties horror movie and is creepy as hell. Julie is staring out her window, her fingers tapping on her thigh, and I can only hope that the inn doesn’t match whatever is going on with this endless driveway or we’re in for a long night.
When we finally reach the end of the driveway, I breath a sigh of relief. The inn is an old but well-maintained Victorian style mansion. It’s light blue with scalloped wood siding, tall, narrow windows, and a giant wrap-around porch.
Pulling up into one of the parking spots in front that is as cleared as it could possibly be in the middle of the blizzard, I get out of the car and go around to Julie’s side to open her door, but she is already out of the car by the time I get there. In silence, we go to the trunk, and I pull out the suitcases we need for the night, wincing a little at the throb in my shoulder. I start to head to the porch and out of the snow when Julie tries to pull her suitcase away from me. I turn towards her.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking my suitcase.” She tries to pull it away again, but I don’t let her.
“I’ve got it. ”
She attempts a glare, but her eyes aren’t angry. They’re sad. Resigned. I wish she would tell me what the fuck is going on. “You don’t got it. I saw the face you made back there. Carrying both is hurting you.”
My stomach drops a little at her acknowledgement of my pain. “Julie, just let me carry the suitcase. And let’s get out of the snow, okay?”
Her breath hitches and her eyes glass over. Yanking her hand from her suitcase, she turns and stomps up the stairs and disappears inside.
Motherfucker .
I follow her inside where it’s warm and bright and smells like apples and cinnamon. The woman sitting at the carved wooden desk that serves as the reception area has silver, curly hair and is wearing a red dress covered in gingerbread men. When she sees us, her eyes light up, and with her plump, flushed cheeks, she looks like a bed and breakfast owner straight out of central casting.
“Terrible weather out there,” she says with a smile at us. “Welcome to Roses and Lace. I’m Shirley. How can I help you tonight?”
“Do you by any chance have a couple of rooms for the night? We were supposed to go to Wichita, but the weather got too bad to keep driving.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you found your way here. It’s way too dangerous to keep driving out there. Unfortunately, you’re not the only people who have decided to stop for the night to get out of the weather, so I just have one room available.”
I can hear Julie’s sharp inhale from across the room where she’s studying the pictures lining the wall. I know she hates the idea of one room with whatever is going on in her head, but she’s going to have to deal with it and with me.
“That would be fine; thank you so much.” I hand her my credit card, and she runs it through a machine that looks as old as I am and gives me back the card.
“Wonderful. Here’s the key.” She hands me an actual brass key on a keychain in the shape of a flower. “You’ll be in room eight. It’s straight up the stairs, last door on the right. Breakfast starts at six-thirty.”
“Thank you so much. We appreciate it.”
I turn to grab the suitcases and find Julie right behind me reaching her hand out.
“Don’t even think about it, Blondie.” I grab the suitcases and carry them upstairs, with her following closely behind me. When I unlock the door and push it open, I see three things immediately. The most garish red floral wallpaper that has ever existed. A fireplace almost as tall as I am. And one bed. One. Fucking. Bed. I don’t even realize that I’m stopped in the doorway until Julie pushes past me into the room. The second she sees the bed she freezes.
“Oh no. No way. Definitely not. Not happening.” She spins to face me. “Not. Fucking. Happening.” She punctuates each word with a finger to my chest then crosses her arms, glaring at the bed as if she can make it split in two through sheer force of will.
I’m suddenly exhausted right into my bones.
“It’s fine, Julie. We’re adults. We can share a bed. And if sharing a bed with me is so terrible, I’ll sleep on the floor, okay?”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“No. You don’t understand. I can’t. I just…can’t.”
Her breath hitches on the last word, and she looks around the room a little wildly. Her fingers scratch at her wrist and her breath comes fast and sharp. I can tell she’s on the verge of a full blown panic attack, and I take one step towards her, hating to see her struggle. Wanting so badly to help her. For her to let me help her. To tell me what the problem is so I can fix it. But before I can reach her, she throws a hand out to stop me then spins on her heel, running out of the room and thundering down the stairs.
It takes my brain a second to engage, and she’s fast when she’s panicking. By the time I catch up with her, she’s flying out the front door of the inn. I find her in the parking lot, standing in the falling snow, bent over with her hands on her knees, her back rising and falling rapidly. I reach her in two strides. I place a hand on her back and she jerks at my touch, her breathing so fast I’m afraid she’s actually about to hyperventilate.
I can’t watch her struggle anymore. I don’t have it in me.
“Fuck this.” I wrap my arms around her from behind. She struggles against me for a second before giving in, melting into me and fitting so perfectly against me it’s like she was made just for me. I tighten my arms, whispering into her ear.
“Breathe, Blondie. You’re okay. Feel me breathe and do what I do. We’ve done this before. In and out, okay?” I keep holding her, taking deep, exaggerated breaths until I feel her breathing match mine. “You’re doing great; just keep breathing. Stay with me.”
I don’t know how long we stand there like that, the snow falling around us, but as I feel her breathing return to normal, I just can’t take it anymore. The last twenty-four hours have been an eternity.
“What’s going on, Julie? Why are you so sad? Talk to me, baby. I miss the sound of your voice.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. You’re safe with me. I swear it.”
At that, she pulls out of my arms, whirling around to face me, her face a mask of pain .
“Am I, Asher? Am I safe with you? Because I don’t feel all that safe.”
Nothing she could say would possibly cut any deeper than that.
“If I did something to make you feel like you weren’t safe with me, then tell me so I can make it better. Just…tell me.”
“I saw the texts on your phone,” she explodes.
“The…huh? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She scoffs. “Really? You know I can give you what you need ? You need me just as much as I need you ? Come on, Asher. I’m not an idiot. If this whole road trip is just a fun way for you to pass the time, that’s fine—I just need to know. If you’re seeing other people, just tell me. I mean, you’re not even seeing me, so I don’t know what I’m getting so upset about. But still. Just tell me. I’m a big girl and I can handle it. I’m not going to fall in love with you over some wolves and a giant taco and a bag full of peppermint Hershey Kisses.”
Well, fuck me. She saw the texts from Danny. It kills me that she has spent the last day worrying that there might be another woman. And I know it’s time to tell her. Everything. It occurs to me for the first time that if this conversation goes badly—if she doesn’t understand me self-medicating so I can play football—I could lose her for good. I’ve been so preoccupied with losing her for some unknown reason that I forgot there is an actual, tangible reason she may not want to be with me, and that thought is a punch straight to the gut.
I could spend a minute pondering the irony of the fact that I finally found something that would hurt more to lose than football and now I might lose them both, but I can’t dwell on that for too long or I’ll go insane. I didn’t have tell my biggest secret and potentially lose the love of my life during a blizzard at a roadside bed and breakfast in rural Kansas on my bingo card, but I guess you can’t always plan the major crossroads in your life. Whatever the outcome, this conversation has to happen, and it has to happen tonight. But first thing’s first.
I step towards her, cupping her face in both of my hands so our eyes meet. I lean forward, pressing my lips to her forehead before locking eyes with her again. I can feel the intensity blazing in my gaze and I hope she sees it. “There is no one else. I haven’t so much as looked at a single other woman since we danced together almost seven months ago. I only want to see you. I don’t want to see anyone but you ever again. Ever, Juliette.”
She closes her eyes, and a single tear slips down her cheek. I catch it with my thumb, wiping it away.
“You called me Juliette.” Her voice is small, and I hate it. Her voice should never be small.
“I always call you Juliette.”
“Earlier you didn’t. In the parking lot. And in the room. And just now, when you were telling me to breathe. I don’t…” She stops, taking a shaky breath. “I don’t want you to call me anything else. I like that I’m Juliette to you. I like who I am when I’m with you.”
I lower my forehead to hers, breathing her in, my heart expanding with love for her, knowing how monumental it is for her to say those words. “I’ll never call you anything else, ever again,” I murmur.
“Thank you,” she whispers. She pulls away a bit then, leaning her head back so she can look at me. “But the texts. The phone calls. Asher, I really need to know what they’re all about because my mind is going to some pretty bad places.”
I take a deep breath, because here goes nothing. “It has to do with football, and it’s a long story. I want to tell you. I want to tell you everything. Will you come upstairs with me, out of the snow, so we can talk?”
She smiles .
Fuck I’ve missed her smiles .
Then she steps into me and puts her arms around my waist, leaning her head on my shoulder. I wrap myself around her, holding on and letting out a breath I feel like I’ve been holding since yesterday as the snow falls all around us.
“Let’s go upstairs. Tell me everything.”