Chapter Forty-Six
Asher
My regression back to Old Asher is swift, succinct, yet somehow… wrong. Like I’m slipping into clothes that I wore when I was a chubby teenager—they’re a slightly loose fit, but not quite as comfortable as they once were. They just happen to be the first thing I get my hands on.
I ghost my manager again, and Gio. I don’t go into HQ for a week after we’re back. I don’t do anything but drink, and eat junk food, and think about her.
I can’t forget the look of stark, raw agony on Victoria’s face, or the tears that swam in her eyes. I’m not sure who I hated more in that moment; myself, or her. I am sure that I’ll drink myself to an early grave if I can’t manage to forget her soon.
And I need to forget her. I need to move the fuck on with my life. Having a relationship with an amazing woman was a passing fever-dream that’s simply not realistic for someone like me. I’m not built for longevity.
If I didn’t leave her, she would’ve left me first eventually. It’s better this way, really.
On my fifth day of moping like an imbecile, a shrill ringing of my phone pulls me out of a half-asleep state. I have no idea what time it is, but I’m sprawled over my sofa. Empty bottles of liquor litter the coffee table, the kitchen counter, even the floor.
The ringing sounds again. I realize it’s coming from my phone, which is buried between couch cushions. I pull it out, squinting groggily at the Caller ID.
Why the fuck is Grant calling me?
I let it go to voicemail. Two seconds later, it starts ringing again. Didn’t I have it set to Do Not Disturb?
“What?” I growl, picking up.
There’s a slight pause. “Jesus, you sound like shit. I haven’t heard you like this since you called me from a jail cell your junior year.”
Will he never forget that? I got in a barfight in a country that doesn’t condone violence, once. I only called him because I needed that shit to stay quiet, or I would’ve been fucking disowned by our grandparents.
“If you don’t have a point, I’ll be going now,” I intone coolly.
“Our grandparents are my point,” Grant replies flatly. “They’ve been blowing up my phone, asking about you for a week.”
I frown. “I told them I’m fine.”
“You messaged them that you’re alive when you got out of the hospital, and haven’t picked up their calls.”
“My phone’s been on silent.” I squint. “How the fuck did you get through?”
“I have people in tech who owe me favors.”
Translation; he got someone to hack into my phone. Mother. Fucker.
“I’ll call them. If that’s all—”
“It isn’t. See, they’re not the only ones blowing up my phone.
” He pauses. “Would you happen to know a Hunter Aster? Interestingly, he tanked both of our portfolios, and threatened to dismantle my company. Evidently, he’s under the impression that you harmed his sister—Victoria Linden—and is gearing to go to war.
Now, I’ve never been one to turn down a fun time, but I won’t be risking my neck for your sake. ”
Fuck. “Hunter’s a fucking sociopath.”
“Quite right,” Grant agrees coolly. “Why do you think I’m concerned? He was also threatening to get you permanently banned from F1.”
My stomach dips, but then an unsettling thought settles in my mind. Maybe that’s not a bad thing.
I tried. I failed. It could be time to move on, once and for all.
“You want to know what’s interesting?”
“No.”
“That the threats I’m speaking of came three days ago.
Then they ceased, as if they’d never started, and he stopped fucking with my money.
See, I heard from a little birdy that his sister—or half-sister, whatever their relation in that fucked-up family is—told him to back off or she’d never speak to him again.
” He lets that sink in, and my jaw clenches.
“Is there a point to this goddamn conversation?” I seethe.
“Yes. Get your shit in order before I have to step in and do so. This self-pity spiral you’re stuck in is fucking grotesque, and I will not permit it to be attached to the family name. Oh, and by the way, another birdy told me you have a meeting with some big-shot tomorrow. Ali, I think.”
“Ilya,” I correct. Fuck, is it already Wednesday? I vaguely recall him telling me I better be in HQ on Thursday.
Skipping the meeting would be an easy way to get fired, which would save me the humiliation of resigning. Or of having to choose. If that’s what I want.
What do I want? Besides her? I’m not going to get her; not even if I wanted to. I struck a blow right where I knew it would hurt most, and I did it deliberately and maliciously. There’s no coming back from that. Regardless that my actions shattered whatever was left of my heart.
“I’m a mess,” I mutter.
“Always have been,” Grant agrees easily. “It kind of looked like that was turning around for a bit. I almost started seeing you as competition. Thank you for regressing back into your natural state of a fuckup.”
“Fuck you,” I say without heat.
“Try not to provoke Aster into putting a hit on me, and do clean up your mess. I was getting used to not thinking about you.” He hangs up without further ado.
A knock sounds on my front door. I should be fuming after my conversation with my brother, but instead, I’m just… tired. Exhausted. Still drunk.
There’s a decent chance I have alcohol poisoning.
My door unlocks with a swish and click… and in strides Gio. Can today get any better?
He takes a nice, long look at me, then at the disarray of my apartment.
“How the fuck did you get in?” I ask.
“Your chef lent me his key. He’s been too frightened to come here.” Gio gives me a look up and down. “And for a good reason.”
Is today just going to be a rally of insults?
“Shower,” he says succinctly. “I will clean up and cook.”
“I’m not drinking another vomit-smoothie, and you aren’t welcome here,” I mutter.
“Please. I am welcome everywhere. Shower, or I will spray you down with ice water.” His tone turns dry. “Seeing you shiver like a wet rat would be an improvement.”
“Fuck. Off.”
“It is shower and food, or straight to the gym.” Gio’s tone is hard now. “I will drag you if I must. And tip off the tabloids so they can all see your heartbreak.”
“I’m not fucking heartbroken!” I roar.
“Of course not.” Gio rolls his eyes. “Shower. Now.”
He won’t leave until I cooperate, and I’m in no state to stop him from dragging me out. He’s right, I’m a heartbroken wreck.
I turn my back on him and get in the fucking shower.
After nearly falling over while attempting to bathe myself, I call my grandparents to assure them that I’m fine, spend 30 minutes going through countless messages without finding the one I’m looking for; anything from Victoria. Anything. I’d even take a heated “go fuck yourself” over dead silence.
Her lack of enthusiasm for texting me always grated. Now, it’s a screwdriver in my soul—because I know I won’t be hearing from her again. She’s probably blocked me.
The sweet scent of simmering tomatoes reaches through my bedroom door, luring me back out into the living room. I have to rub my eyes when I see the state of it.
It’s fucking spotless. No bottles or grime in sight. How did Gio do all of this in the half hour I was gone?
Because my trainer is fucking amazing, that’s how. I’ve just never cared enough to acknowledge it before.
“And the beast emerges,” Gio murmurs, setting two plates of pasta drizzled with meat sauce on the table and flashing me a dazzling white smile. He wipes his hand on the dishtowel flung over his shoulder. “Now, where is the beauty?”
“I’m too hungover to understand what you’re asking.”
“The girl,” Gio emphasizes. “The intern. She is the reason you are like this, no?”
My heart clenches. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But you need to. Otherwise you wouldn’t be trying to drink yourself to death. Sit.” Gio motions at the table with the towel. “Eat. Put something in your body that isn’t liquor.”
What’s the point? I don’t say that out loud, lest Gio starts hitting me with the dish towel. Instead, I gracelessly slump into my seat, pick up a fork, and stab the pasta. I’m well aware that I’m acting like a petulant child who’s been denied extra gaming time, but I don’t care enough to stop.
None of it seems to matter without her.
“What happened?” Gio asks after I’ve taken a few bites. “I’ve seen you in many states, but never any like this.”
“Does it matter?” I snap.
“You were trying to break the world championship of how much a man can drink before dying, so yes.”
I clench my jaw. “I fucked up the race. I got angry. I said things to her I shouldn’t have.” Breaking up was inevitable, I have no doubt she would’ve realized that she’s far too good to me and done it first, but the pain in her eyes…
It was way over the line. I made her second-best to fucking Ethan, who’s a complete moron on his best days. I was angry at myself, Ulrich—who got off scot-free, as far as I heard in the hospital—and the world. I took it out on her.
At the time, I felt justified in my anger. I’d just spent four hours in the hospital, and she didn’t even bother to show up. In hindsight, I understand it’s possible she was held up by a serious debrief with the three big shots of team management, since she’s the one who put me on green tires.
Now, I just feel… sad.
“Ah, it is easy, then. You must simply apologize.”
“Apologize?” I repeat. “Even if I wanted to reconcile, which I don’t, what I said goes far past an apology.” She won’t forgive me for it, and I don’t expect her to. I don’t want her to. I’d rather she hate me from afar than get too close.
“Why don’t you want to make it right? You care for this girl.” Gio squints at me, and after a beat, his eyes widen. “Dear god, you love her.”
“No, I—”
“You changed for the better with her. The look in your eyes whenever you spoke about her—I should’ve known.” His astonishment quickly turns to indignance. “Why would you speak cruelly to her?” his face turns red. “Are you mad?”
“No, I’m—”
“Insane!” he interjects. “My god, Asher. You find a woman who accepts all of your endless flaws and your boorish behavior, and you push her away? Who else could possibly tolerate you?”
“You really know how to make a guy feel good about himself,” I say drily.
“You will answer for this!” Gio snaps. “What could possibly compel you to—”
“Because if I didn’t do it, she would’ve!
” The admission is torn out of me on a roar, and I’m left panting in the aftermath, fuming.
All the energy that my drinking binge siphoned out of me comes crashing back.
“Everyone wants something from me, Giovanni—especially women. A fun night. Fame. Money. That’s what they care about.
You’re right; no one would be able to tolerate me.
Certainly not someone with a smart mouth, a work ethic that puts the world to shame, and a desire to do the right thing.
I’m not stupid enough to believe it would last. She would’ve gotten sick of me eventually.
I may have handled the aftermath of my crash wrong, but breaking up was the right thing. ”
Liar, liar, pants on fire, a voice in my head taunts. I shove that voice in a coffin and bury it under ten feet of frozen soil.
“You silly boy.” Gio gives me a look I’ve never seen before. True, resounding disappointment. “You had a woman willing to fight for you, and you won’t fight for her.”
My jaw clenches. “No one ever pulls through for me in the long run.”
“You, you, you.” Gio rolls his eyes. “Not everything is about you, Asher. Have you ever paused to consider such a notion? Sometimes, things can be about other people. For whatever insane reason, this woman wanted you and fought tooth and nail to help you. When a bleak moment comes, you discredit all of that and toss her aside like yesterday’s leftovers?
” he shakes his head. “Perhaps she is better off without you, then. But are you better off without her?”
…Fuck.