Chapter 3
Asher
I’ll be her anchor
My fingers curl around the cool glass, the squeaking sound falling faint against my ears.
I’m staring into space, numb to my surroundings.
It could be busy as hell, but I couldn’t tell you how packed we are.
This happens after visiting Max’s house.
No matter how many times I see him, I’m left feeling drained.
Visions of him unconscious in the hospital are burned into my brain.
Seeing anyone covered in bumps and bruises lying lifeless on a hospital bed can traumatize a person.
Seeing your best friend, though? Double the trauma.
Despite everything that’s happened to him, Max is still Max. He’s still the goofy, outgoing guy who will stop at nothing to make you laugh. I don’t know how he manages to stay so positive, but he does.
“Hey, Ash?” Gage, my business partner and friend, asks.
“Yeah?”
“That glass is pretty clean, don’t you think?” I frown at his question before glancing down. The glass is, in fact, in pristine condition, so I place it down carefully before grabbing the next one.
“You’ve been at that thing for almost ten minutes. What gives?”
Gage isn’t one to engage in small talk with people, typically responding in grunts and nods.
I’m one of the lucky few who gets more than three words out of him.
Gage O’Reilly is my polar opposite: covered in tattoos, has gauges in his ears, and a permanent scowl on his face.
Our female customer base triples anytime the man is behind the bar, with muscles any man would never admit to envying and eyes that stare straight into your soul.
Like, seriously, the man can fish out a lie from across the bar.
He's a total ladies’ man, and whenever he decides to smile, if you listen close enough, you can hear the hearts of women—and even men—break.
Despite the attitude, Gage is a total charmer.
I met him during an intro to business class in college.
At first, I never planned to go to college.
During my senior year of high school, I had zero idea of what I wanted to pursue.
The only things I cared about were baseball, reading, my friends, and Bri.
Being my high school’s all-star pitcher, everyone thought I’d go pro, but that never really interested me.
To me, baseball was just a hobby, a great way to channel all that excess energy in a healthy way.
So when I enrolled at Brookestone University, I was undecided, remaining that way until I met Gage.
We were paired together during a project where we had to come up with a business idea and a plan.
At first, we seemed like an unlikely duo with him being more reserved, but somehow, we worked.
We bonded over our mutual dream to own our own bar, so coming up with a business idea was fairly easy.
In that oversized, bright college classroom was where Aces was born. Gage and I were so eager to open up our own bar that we dropped out of college to pursue our passion. It’s been one of the best decisions I’ve made in my life so far.
“Ace?” Gage asks, using the name Max gave me in high school. Hearing Gage use the nickname pulls me out of my thoughts and into the present.
“I went to see Max earlier today. I guess I’ve been distracted.” I shrug.
“Ah damn. How is he doing?” One of Gage's redeeming qualities is his empathy. I guess it's inevitable when you grow up with three younger sisters. There's more to him than meets the eye, but for some reason, he keeps a huge part of him under lock and key.
“He’s doing okay. He has most of his range of motion in his arm, but Max being Max tends to overdo it.
He’s struggling with not working right now, and it fucking sucks seeing him like that.
And then when I think about seeing him connected to what looked like hundreds of tubes, my mind falls down a rabbit hole.
” The image of seeing my best friend hooked up to medical equipment will forever be burned into my brain.
January 2026 (The day of the accident)
It’s my favorite day of the week: crunching numbers and making sure the bar is in the green. I am knee deep in receipts and paperwork when I hear my phone buzz. I glance at the caller ID, and when I see Max’s mom’s name, Colleen, flash across my screen, something in my gut tells me to answer it.
“Hello?” My tone quivers ever so slightly. Panic is a snake that slithers its way up my throat, threatening to wrap around my neck and squeeze the life out of me.
“Hi, sweetheart. I-I’m so s-sorry to call, but there’s been an accident.” Loud buzzing fills my ears, and I barely make out what she said.
Accident.
Drunk driver.
Max.
Bri.
I have never hung up a phone so fast. I snatch my keys from my desk, and the second I am behind the wheel, I break about a dozen laws.
I don’t give a shit. I have to get to my best friend and my…
my Bri. This hospital is so damn familiar to me now that I hardly need the nurses' guidance. With the amount of times I had to pick my brother up from the many times he had to get his stomach pumped, I could walk these halls with a blindfold. Then there was that time Cas was shot by his father. I really don’t want to be back here so soon, but I push back the trauma tied to this place.
My best friend and love of my life are here.
I curse the slow elevator, attempting to rid myself of my anxiety through the incessant tapping of my foot.
Normally, I’d be the person who holds the door open for anyone needing to get on, but not this time.
My finger hurts from how hard I repeatedly press the third floor button.
After the elevator's snail pace-like climb, I run right into Colleen and Liam’s arms. It’s hard to tell who’s more upset because we are all a combined shaky, hot mess. I squeeze a little harder before I pull back and guide us to those stupid maroon chairs before asking what happened.
“What? H-How?” I stammer out.
“They were hit by a drunk driver running a red light. Bri has a few stitches and bruises, as well as a minor concussion. The doctors are finishing up with her now.” Liam’s normally steady voice is rough and shaky.
“And Max?” Colleen and Liam exchange a look before expressing the extent of his injuries.
“Max suffered the most. He has some minor internal bleeding from a punctured lung caused by some broken ribs. His entire left leg will require surgery from the multiple fractures. He’ll also require surgery for his right arm as well as his shoulder and collarbone.
The doctors said he also suffered some grade two soft tissue damage and has a severe concussion.
He’s currently in surgery now, and we’re just waiting until we can go see him. ”
Fuck. It’s a miracle they’re able to somewhat function with both of their babies being checked on.
A door from one of the rooms opens, and without even looking up, I know it’s her.
I’ve been in tune with Brianna ever since I met her—I just didn’t realize what that meant until it was too late.
Shit, I still don’t know what happened the day she went from wanting to be around me to despising my entire existence.
My blue eyes meet her gold-rimmed amber ones, and I freeze.
Just looking into her eyes puts me in a trance.
The rich honey color reminds me of those videos where they make caramel.
Even with gauze covering her left temple and a pretty significant bruise on her collarbone, she is radiant.
I freeze like a deer in headlights when she sees me.
I stand up, ready to leave and allow her space to grieve, but she surprises me.
I thought she’d lay into me like she has in the past. But she runs at me like a puppy greeting its owner after being gone all day.
The wind is briefly knocked out of me, and we’re seconds away from collapsing onto the ground.
With Bri’s legs wrapped around my waist, I somehow manage to get us on the floor with minimal clumsiness as we sit together while she weeps in my arms. I hug her tight against my chest while peppering soft kisses on the crown of her head.
Her clinging to me is as much for me as it is for her.
I love to be needed, it gives me a sense of pride and accomplishment—probably one of the reasons I love bartending so much.
But there’s nothing like being needed by her.
Being needed by the one person whose entire existence makes your heart beat with purpose.
We stay like that until it’s time for me to leave.
I offer to take her home, but she insists on staying put.
The drive home is a dissociated blur, unable to feel anything but the lingering warmth from her touch.
I think about that day often. I swear, my heart stopped for a moment when I got that call.
I’m still grateful that Gage was there that night, because one look at my panicked expression and he knew.
Anytime I mention my appreciation to him, he just shrugs it off.
He isn’t much of a talker, so it makes sense for him.
My arms tingle at the memory of Bri in my arms. I sometimes have a hard time believing that she chose me to run to.
I’ve had about a dozen scenarios in my head as to why she’d want to seek comfort in my arms. She was in shock.
She didn’t realize it was me. She actually doesn’t hate me, and this was her way of showing me.
Okay, maybe that last one is wishful thinking, but remembering how distraught Bri was that day still sends shivers down my spine.
Then I think about Cas and Avery’s wedding a few months ago, and how she let me touch her.
It was a simple touch, a gentle squeeze of her thigh, but she didn’t shrug me off.
Both of those incidents might seem small to most, but to me they are everything.