Chapter 13
Asher
Of course we got paired together. I wanted to get to know her, but Jesus—she was abrupt and impossible.
I loved a challenge, loved when someone played hard to get, but this wasn’t that.
This was a deep-rooted refusal to let anyone close, a fierce desire to shut the world out.
And the accusation that I only talked to her because I wanted to “save” her—because she wanted to die—stung more than I expected.
There was something else about her. Something desirable.
She was a challenge I had never encountered.
Everything in life had always come easily to me—sports, girls, you name it.
But her? No. She was a puzzle. An enigma.
Something entirely different. She wasn’t impressed by the usual materialistic shit in life, unlike everyone else I had known.
She needed me to prove myself to be worthy of her time.
And for some reason, I really wanted to be worth her time.
Pushing her into partnering with me would only push her further away—the exact opposite of what I wanted. The moment she heard that we were paired up together, the tension in her body surged. It radiated off of her in waves. Her fists tightened, her jaw locked, and she looked ready to snap.
I’d never seen her speak up in group before, not like that—until she voiced her distaste for my presence. With all the anxiety she clearly bottled up, that was the hill she chose to die on. I couldn’t believe it.
I make her feel uncomfortable.
Fuck. That was the last thing I wanted.
I walked over to the table to grab us a notebook and pencil, glancing back just in time to see her speaking with Dana.
I could practically guess the conversation: requesting to switch partners or work alone.
It fit her MO perfectly. I wondered how I could turn this around for us.
In the event that she couldn’t change partners or work alone, she would be hostile as hell about it.
I’d need to pivot my approach if I wanted her to give me even a sliver of a chance.
With the notebook and pencil in hand, I chose a spot far from the other participants—somewhere quieter, somewhere she could breathe. When she turned and spotted me across the room, her shoulders slumped. She looked notably annoyed. Discouraged, even. Her eyes were bloodshot.
Was she that upset to be paired up with me?
As she got closer, the disdain was palpable across her face. She sat next to me, leaving a seat between us like a barrier.
“Would you like to go first?” I offered, holding out the notebook and pencil—an olive branch.
She shook her head fervently. “No, you go.”
Understanding she needed some space, I decided to write down the first thing that came to mind without really thinking too hard about it. Trying to keep things simple—nonthreatening—I started with something easy.
“Get a pet.”
Turning the notebook toward her, I slid it across the empty chair between us, the pencil wedged in the crease. I whispered, “Here ya go.”
With the saddest eyes I think I’d ever seen on anyone, she reached for the pencil. Without a word, she wrote, Learn to drive. Then she slid the notebook back, crossed her arms and turned away from me.
I didn’t react—not outwardly. Instead, I jotted down the next thing that came to my mind. Go camping. Then beneath it: I’m sorry.
Lennon’s eyes drifted to the words I had written, almost bypassing my entry—until she reached the last line. Those deep green eyes lifted straight to mine, sharp and unblinking. In a small, desperate whisper, she asked, “Why?”
My body eased at the tiny crack in her armour. She spoke to me. “I shouldn’t have approached you like I did on the first day.”
She continued to bore those beautiful eyes into mine, without a hint of the emotion she was feeling.
“And I should have dropped it today,” I added. We sat there, both leaning into one another in our own world filled with whispers and sorrow.
Why were you so sad, Lennon?
Who fucking hurt you?
I almost missed it, but a ghost of a smile appeared before quickly vanishing.
“It’s okay,” she said quietly, as if she refused to allow me in more than an inch. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just…complicated.” She bit the inside of her lip, seemingly waging wars inside of her on how much to reveal, if anything.
“I get it,” I offered gently; understanding that she might not want to speak, but desperately wanting her to know I wouldn’t push her.
She took the pencil again, tapping her chin twice, thinking. Then she wrote down, Float in the Dead Sea. She turned the notebook 180 degrees and fluttered her eyes up at mine.
“Ironic.”
The word slipped out before I could stop it. I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m sorry. Terrible joke.”
She huffed out the faintest laugh, a tiny smile tugging at her mouth as she nodded. “Definitely ironic. Definitely a terrible, but fantastic joke.”
Lennon and I spent the rest of the session trading small additions to the list, back and forth.
It was only thirty minutes, but it felt like seconds and a lifetime all wrapped up in one singular moment.
I could’ve stayed there writing things until I was making shit up—anything to stay in her presence a little longer.
Dana called out to the group that we had five minutes to wrap up our lists before it needed to be handed in to her. She reminded us to write both names at the top of the notebook. Since I already had the pencil, I scribbled my name down first. Then I slid the notebook toward her.
Shaking her head, she murmured, “Go ahead. You can write it down for me.”
I hesitated for a second. I realized that I’d written my full name—Asher Graves.
But I didn’t know her last name, and asking felt weird, too intimate somehow.
So I just wrote: Lennon and Asher Graves.
I was well aware that I placed her name before mine, making it look like our last names were the same.
A part of me hoped she’d notice and give me shit for it.
She seemed like the type who kept her rage bottled tight until it finally blew up. Why did I love that so much?
“Did I spell it right?” I asked, playing coy with her.
She glanced down and gave a distracted nod. “Yup.”
A weird wave of disappointment radiated throughout me. She didn’t notice. Or maybe she didn’t care. Lennon had this way about her—like she’d fought too many battles alone and she had nothing left to give. And for some reason, watching her carry that weight—it killed me inside.
“I know I apologized for earlier,” I said softly, shifting toward her, “but I’d like to restart our introduction.” I held out my hand. She stared at it as if it were foreign to her, an object she wasn’t sure was a threat. Like she wasn’t sure what to do with a gesture that gentle.
“My name’s Asher Graves.”
Her lips parted, curiosity flickering behind her eyes at the sudden change of topic from the last thirty minutes of working on the bucket list project. Then she lifted her hand, cautious but willing. “I’m…uh…Lennon. Lennon Becker.”
Our palms met. She gave the lightest squeeze before she pulled it away.
“Pleasure to meet you, Lennon Becker,” I whispered, feeling my heart rate pick up speed at the light touch between us.
One corner of her mouth lifted in a hesitant half smile as she murmured, “I was really angry to be paired with you.”
I let out a quiet chuckle, lowering my gaze. “I know.”
“Am I that obvious?” she asked.
I laughed under my breath gently and nodded. “Yeah, you kind of are.”
Before she could respond, Dana announced that the group was dismissed until Monday.
Chairs screeched, people stood, and everyone moved toward her to hand in their notebooks.
I joined the line, but halfway there I realized Lennon wasn’t behind me.
She hadn’t moved at all—she was still sitting in the same rigid position, staring at nothing.
I handed the notebook to Dana. As I got ready to exit, I peered back, unwilling to leave her behind. I sighed, wondering if this was a bad move on my part. After a moment of deliberation, I decided to return to her.
“Everything okay?” I asked as I walked closer.
She peered up at me, her eyes glazed with that same bloodshot hostility. “No. Everything fucking sucks, and I can’t wait for this to be over—so it can be actually over.”
I got whiplash, completely thrown by the intensity of her sudden change of behaviour. I scrunched my brows, at a loss of words. “Did I do something to upset you?” I asked. She scoffed, as if I had the audacity to even ask.
She shot to her feet in a fit of fury and stormed toward the door.
It took my mind a second to catch up—to consider that maybe I had done something to hurt her.
I replayed every moment leading up to this, searching for something I might’ve said, anything that could’ve damaged the fragile rapport we’d just built. I found nothing.
Then it hit me.
I spun around and chased after her, but she’d picked up speed in the time it took me to finally react. By the time I exited the room, she was nearly at the front entrance of the hospital. I called out, “Lennon!” She ignored me.
I jogged after her, my heart racing too fast to feel good.
Jesus, I really needed to work on my cardio.
I was going to lose her. She would get away instead of me fixing my wrongs.
Breathing like this was difficult. My breaths grew shallow and harsh, each intake of air scraping my chest. I had to stop—it was too much.
My palms were slick with sweat, my body suddenly cold.
Shit.
I came to a complete stop, spotting a water fountain ahead and limping toward it. I needed a drink—needed to calm down. As I slurped up water, leaning forward, my vision began to darken at the edges. I needed to sit.
There was no bench in my line of sight, so I leaned my back against the wall and slid down until I was seated on the floor. Slow breaths. Slow, intentional breaths. I kept my eyes closed until I heard a voice speaking to me.
When I opened them, I saw Dana standing in front of me.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly, genuine concern ripping through her voice. I nodded, not wanting to alarm her.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Just got dizzy there for a second, that’s all.”
She looked at me, reading right through my bullshit. A smirk tugged at her lips. “Right. And I’ve never heard that one before.”
Our eyes met in an all-knowing glance. I dropped mine to my lap, feeling shitty for lying to her.
“Come on,” she said. “I could use a chat about today’s session.
” She held out her hand to help me up. I gave in, taking it as she hoisted me to my feet.
I glanced out the window, defeat settling over me when I realized I hadn’t caught up to Lennon.
I wondered if she’d be upset that I hadn’t chased after her—at least, not in a way she’d noticed.
As we headed back to Room C125, I had the feeling Dana would ask about my illness—something I hadn’t exactly divulged yet. She pointed toward the snacks, ever the hostess, before taking a seat. I sat down across from her, quietly declining the food.
“So, Asher. Tell me,” she began.
I braced myself. I assumed she was about to ask why I was here.
I never liked opening that door. People’s perspectives always shifted afterward.
Even when they didn’t mean to, their subconscious took over, offering me the easy road, the gentler path.
I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t want anything I hadn’t earned; my whole life already felt like that.
“Tell you what?” I asked curiously.
“Tell me why you were chasing after Lennon,” she clarified confidently. “It seemed like things were going okay, and then they took a turn.”
Caught off guard, I let out a short chuckle. “I thought it was going okay, too. Lennon’s hard for me to read. I don’t know what I said that set her off, but the last I saw, she was running away angry. I felt like I needed to clear the air before she disappeared—but I couldn’t catch up to her.”
It helped that the conversation had gone in that direction, but I still didn’t feel completely safe. Dana pressed her lips together, thinking for a moment before she spoke.
“You know,” she said carefully, “Lennon was placed with you strategically. Due to confidentiality, I can’t say why. But it was intentional—because of your desire to remain earthside. I know you’ve had your share of lows, but I think your strong motivation to be here could really help Lennon.”
She seemed to be holding so much back. I understood confidentiality better than most because of my mother. She’d always been adamant about the importance of keeping her clients’ personal business under lock and key. It appeared Dana felt the same way, too.
“She already told the group that she was a part of the assisted suicide program,” I said. “So I know she intentionally wants to die.” I hoped Dana might cave, even just a little, and let something slip.
She nodded. “All I’m saying is—be gentle with her. Think about it: if you wanted to die so badly, so much that you’re willing to undergo a twelve-week intensive therapy program just to die at the end…imagine how different your mindset would be throughout that time.”
The question that had been circling my brain finally came to the forefront. “I don’t want her to do it,” I said, then hesitated. “But why wouldn’t she just…you know…do it herself if she wanted it that badly?”
There it was. The words I hadn’t wanted to say out loud. The words I was terrified she might overhear—terrified they’d plant a seed and push her to go through with it immediately. Just thinking them scared the shit out of me.
Dana tilted her head toward her shoulder, a soft smile forming. “Oh Asher. Everyone has a reason for how they operate. I’m sure Lennon does, too. All we can do is be supportive.” She paused. “As her partner, support her in this little project I’ve assigned.”
It felt as though she told me so much, and nothing at all.
I let out a slow breath, stood from my seat, and headed for the doorway. “Thanks for the chat,” I said, genuinely meaning it.
She nodded. “Oh—and one more thing, Asher. Don’t go running after her like that. You’re going to give yourself a heart-attack…or a heartache. One of the two.”
Little did she know how right she was.