Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
Kat
I’m at my art station in the living room, surrounded by all my supplies. The expensive brushes Asher bought me are lined up in their holder, the bristles still perfect and clean.
I finally picked up a pencil for the first time in days after getting back from my grandmother’s house earlier this afternoon. Her words have been circling in my head, and I’ve been working on a single piece ever since I got back, which is both a comfort and torture rolled into one.
It’s the picture of Asher on the ice—the piece I started weeks ago as a secret gift for him, which is almost done now. Just a few finishing touches left.
I should put it away, should force myself to work on something else. But this is all my muse can focus on. This image of him, this moment I captured.
Memories of him keep flitting through my head as I work, unbidden and painful. His lopsided smile when he said something that made me laugh, that boyish quality that came out when he was relaxed. His scent, woodsy and spicy and warm. The rough burn of his voice in my ear.
I swallow hard, my heart aching for him, tugging at my chest in a way that makes it hard to breathe.
Not wanting to rush the finicky little bits at the end, I finally decide to take a break for now, setting down my pen.
My hand is cramping from gripping too tight, making the mostly healed cut on my palm hurt a little.
I go upstairs, moving on autopilot, not really thinking about where I’m going or what I’m doing.
It’s starting to get dark out, and the sky outside my window is turning a deep blue-purple color, stars just starting to appear.
I sit on the bed and pick up the little sketchpad I keep on my nightstand, the one I use for random doodles and ideas.
Drawing something small, just trying to keep my hands busy.
A tiny snowflake, intricate and delicate.
Trying to get my groove back, to feel like the person I was before all this happened.
To find my sense of self-worth again, the confidence my grandmother says I deserve.
As I’m straightening up from the sketchpad, movement in my periphery catches my eye.
I glance toward the guest house without meaning to, my heart doing that stupid automatic jump I can’t quite tamp down. My stomach swoops as I see Asher standing in the guest house bedroom window.
He’s looking directly at me, like he was waiting for me to look up.
Our gazes meet across the snowy distance between the buildings, and he holds up a piece of white cardboard with thick black lettering, big enough for me to read from here.
My breath catches in my throat as I read it.
I NEED TO TELL YOU SOMETHING.
He drops that sign, letting it fall to the floor. And immediately holds up another one, this one slightly smaller but the letters just as bold.
ALEXIS IS A LIAR.
I stand up without consciously deciding to, drawn to the window.
Moving closer. My heart is pounding now, my pulse loud in my ears.
I press one hand against the cold glass, my gaze locked on him as he lifts sign after sign.
Each one with a message written in his bold, masculine handwriting.
The same handwriting I’ve seen on notes he left me, on the grocery list he made once.
YOU ARE MORE THAN ENOUGH.
The words hit me right in the chest. Right where it hurts most.
He flips to the next one without pausing.
YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL.
Then another.
YOU’RE SO FUCKING TALENTED.
Another.
YOU BELONG IN MY WORLD.
And another.
YOU’VE BECOME MY WHOLE WORLD.
My mouth falls open slightly, my heart thudding so hard now I can feel it in my throat, in my fingertips.
His gaze hasn’t left mine once as he’s switched from one sign to the next.
Holding each one long enough for me to read it, to absorb it.
Communicating with me across the distance just like we have via texts so many times over the past few weeks.
But this is different. More real. More vulnerable.
I bite my lip hard enough to hurt, swallowing past the lump forming in my throat as he reveals another sign.
I SAID I DIDN’T EVER WANT TO FALL IN LOVE AGAIN, BUT I WAS WRONG.
A little smile tugs at his lips across the distance, something shifting in his expression. Something soft and hopeful that I can see even from here. He flips to a new sign.
I STARTED FALLING IN LOVE WITH YOU THE FIRST DAY I MET YOU…
He lets that one sink in before showing the next.
AND NOW I CAN’T STOP.
My throat goes tight as tears burn my eyes, blurring my vision. I blink them away, not wanting to miss a single word. He flips to another sign, and his hand is shaking slightly. I can see it in the way the cardboard wavers.
I DON’T KNOW HOW TO DO ANYTHING BUT LOVE YOU.
A sob escapes me before I can stop it. I press a hand to my mouth, trying to hold it in. But the tears are coming now whether I want them to or not. He flips several signs in quick succession, each one hitting me like a physical thing. Like punches to the gut, but in the best way.
I LOVE YOUR ART.
I LOVE YOUR DREAMS.
I LOVE YOUR SMILE.
Across the snowy space between buildings, he takes a step closer to his own window.
Close enough that his breath is probably fogging the glass like mine is.
I wish I could see his face even more clearly, see all the little micro-expressions passing through his features.
The way his jaw tenses when he’s nervous, the way his eyes crinkle when he’s sincere.
But even from here, I can see the emotion burning in his gaze.
He flips another sign, and this one makes fresh tears spill over.
I DON’T WANT THIS TO BE FAKE ANYMORE.
Then another, his movements getting faster now. More urgent.
I WANT IT TO BE FOREVER.
Another.
I WANT TO BUILD A LIFE WITH YOU.
He holds my gaze as he shows that one, something vulnerable passing over his features that reaches across the distance to something in me.
Some part of me that’s been locked away, protected.
He looks nervous, almost scared, like he’s putting everything on the line and doesn’t know if I’ll accept it or reject it, and it echoes my own feelings of fear so precisely.
The terror that I won’t be enough for him, that the differences between our worlds are too much to overcome.
He flips another sign, and I read it through my tears.
I WANTED DENVER. I WANTED THIS CONTRACT.
I hold my breath, waiting. Not understanding where he’s going with this.
Then he shows the next sign, and my heart stops.
BUT I WANT YOU MORE.
He holds that sign up for several long beats, as if willing me to believe it. To accept the truth of what he’s saying. I read it once, then again. Then a third time, trying to make my brain accept what my eyes are seeing as tears stream down my cheeks, hot against my skin.
Then he flips over another sign, his movements deliberate.
IF YOU DON’T THINK THERE’S ROOM IN THAT LIFE FOR YOU, WE’LL BUILD A DIFFERENT LIFE.
He flips between signs again, holding the next one up even higher, making sure I can see it clearly.
I’LL GIVE UP THE CONTRACT. PLEASE JUST GIVE ME ANOTHER CHANCE.
Shock crashes through me as my eyes flick over the words again and again. So strong and sudden that it jolts something inside me. Whatever had been keeping me still, keeping me frozen in place by fear and doubt and Alexis’s poison words.
He’s willing to walk away from the Denver contract. From the Aces, from everything he’s worked for his entire life. The dream he’s chased since he was a kid skating on frozen ponds. The thing that defines him, that he’s built his whole identity around.
Just for another chance with me.
That realization spurs me into action before I even realize I’m moving. Before my brain can catch up with my body.
Not thinking about anything else, not grabbing shoes or a coat or anything, I turn away from the window and race down the stairs.
My feet pound on the wood, my hand sliding along the banister until I finally reach the first floor.
I throw the back door open so hard it bangs against the wall as I burst into the back yard.
The snow is a shock against my bare feet, burning cold and sharp, but I don’t care. I don’t even slow down.
Asher is already coming out of the guest house, the door swinging open. The remaining signs tumble from his hands and scatter on the ground, white cardboard against white snow, as he strides toward me, his long legs eating up the distance.
We meet in the middle of the snowy space between the buildings, and I throw myself at him, my hands gripping his forearms.
“You can’t do it!” I blurt out, my voice cracking with emotion. “You can’t give up your dream, Asher. I won’t let you.”
He swallows, his Adam’s apple moving up and down, and this close, I can see the shadow of stubble on his jaw. “Why not?”
Before I can stop to consider it, the truth bursts out. No filter, no planning—just the words I’ve been holding back for days, too scared to say even to myself.
“Because I love you too much to let you sacrifice everything for me.”