Chapter 17
Asher
Iwoke up the next day with my entire body still sore and my mind heavy with fog. I hadn’t slept much the night before, frustration running rampant throughout my body. I needed to calm down. Letting it get to me was doing me no favours…she was just so infuriating.
I rolled over in bed and reached for the drawer in my nightstand where I kept Lennon’s number.
The crinkled paper that I gave my very best attempt to flatten sat on top of the sheet that held our list. In a fit of fury over something I still couldn’t name, she’d stormed off, tossing me her number along with the list. I’d picked them up, watching her bleach blonde locks disappear as she left the room.
I ran my thumb over the number in my hands, conflicted.
I didn’t know why it felt so hard to text her.
It was the same feeling I used to get when I was getting ready to text a girl I was interested in for the first time, like I was asking them out on a date.
Lennon wasn’t that. She wasn’t the kind of girl you ask out on a date.
Nor did I want to…
She was the girl you proceeded with caution with. The one you had to be certain about. The one you couldn’t afford to mess with.
After typing her number into my phone, my cursor hovered in an empty text box, uncertain of how to begin. Did I say good morning? Thank her for leaving me high and dry yesterday? Do I just call her?
It was becoming a bigger thing than it needed to be.
Asher: Good morning
Several moments passed as three little bubbles floated across my screen off and on. What the hell could possibly be up her ass already today?
Lennon: Who is this?
The palm of my hand collided with my forehead. Of course she didn’t know who the fuck it was—I hadn’t offered up my number yesterday after she’d stormed off and thrown hers at me. I was an idiot for letting her get to me.
Asher: It’s your favourite bucket list partner.
I smirked like an idiot as I sent the text, already picturing her rolling those deep-green eyes.
I’d never met anyone with eyes like Lennon’s—they held a world of untold stories.
I was probably annoying her already. It felt confirmed while I watched those bubbles dance along my screen for the next three minutes.
Lennon: How do you know you’re the only one I have a bucket list with?
Oh, she wanted to play games this morning. Lennon was unpredictable, always keeping me on my toes.
Asher: She’s got jokes this early in the morning.
Lennon: You woke me up, dick. What do you want?
I didn’t know why I was enjoying this so much, but it was giving me life, feeding the fire in my chest. I’d already forgotten about the pains my body was carrying. She was dangling a carrot on a string in front of me, and I was more than willing to chase it.
Asher: I’m not so bad to wake up to.
Lennon: Yeah I bet you hear that all the time.
Asher: Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a man whore, Lennon.
Lennon: Yeah, that’s exactly what I was concerned about. Now what do you want?
Asher: I was hoping we could get together to work on being reckless, you know? The task you were so eager to complete?
This back and forth gave me far more pleasure than it should have. I knew it was firing her up.
Lennon: Listen, I have a fucking life, okay?
I can’t just drop everything at your beck and call.
I’m getting sick and tired of your rich-boy attitude, trying to run the show.
I went easy on you yesterday because you had your stupid man cold, but clearly that’s gone.
So it would be fucking great if we could hash this out during group session time so I don’t have to see you any more than I’m fucking obligated to.
I know that’s not what you’re used to, but I’m not like anyone you’ve ever met.
Everyone else has given in to your demands and your entitled fucking ass.
I read her response, frustration flaring instantly.
She always seemed to know exactly what nerve to hit.
She had no idea who I was, and I thought that was what bothered me most. She took me at face value and decided I wasn’t worth her time.
Just the single impression that she had of me, and it was that.
Asher: Whatever, Lennon. You’re the one that wants to get this shit done so badly. Ball’s in your court. I’m out.
I huffed out a sharp sigh and tossed my phone on the bed beside me. For fuck’s sake, she was so maddening. I hoisted myself up and headed for the shower, desperate for hot water and something to shake this feeling off.
As I approached the ensuite, the scent of breakfast and coffee drifted up from downstairs.
My stomach growled. I decided I would head down there after, hoping to run into my mom—and only my mom.
I wasn’t in the mood to deal with my father.
His constant disappointment in me lately had sunk in deep, twisting like a knife I couldn’t pull out.
I couldn’t make it stop, and neither could he.
After rinsing off in the shower, I hopped out and wiped the steam from the mirror, catching my reflection.
There I was—seemingly healthy. The poster boy for what health looked like.
My body was still in shape; nothing like before, but close enough.
My face looked bright, my hair freshly shaved.
No wonder she saw me the way that she did.
I hung my head and envisioned her—her arms wrapped around my neck, fingers running upwards, digging into my scalp.
The thought made my lips part slightly as my eyes fluttered open. Fuck. She was infuriating and incredible at the very same time. She was right when she said she was nothing like anyone I’d ever met.
I hurried out of the bathroom, grabbed my phone, and decided to call her as I sat on my bed. I pressed it to my ear and let the rings carry on—one after another—until her voicemail finally picked up, announcing to the world it was full. Disappointment filled throughout my body.
Trying to calm myself before facing my family, I opened social media and started scrolling.
There were the familiar faces of the girls and guys I’d known in college, some even from high school who had moved on with their lives.
They looked happy. Normal. Living these normal fucking lives while I felt stuck, not able to reach the potential I so badly craved.
As I scrolled, I saw Ben and Dave playing basketball at the outdoor courts a few blocks from my place. Judging by the likes and comments, it was posted this morning. The caption stated, Buckets with the boys.
I’d never been one for self-pity, but at that moment, I allowed myself a few minutes to sink into it. My friends were drifting away. I couldn’t be fucking normal with them. My dad was disappointed in his son. My brother and I were pulling apart. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
Goddamn it.
I pushed myself off the bed, tossed the phone back onto it, and headed downstairs for breakfast.
I jogged down the stairs in a careless manner. My mother sat at the table, chatting with my father.
“Well, good morning, sleepyhead,” she greeted me, her tone bright.
I didn’t miss the way my father glanced up at me over his newspaper and gave a brief nod.
That was the most I could get out of him these days.
Part of me wanted to duke it out with him—say that he was shitty, tell him that I couldn’t fucking help the situation I was in.
But the bigger part of me didn’t have it in me anymore. It was already waving a white flag.
So I let it win. I just couldn’t. Not for me. Not for my mother.
“Morning. Did you cancel your morning meetings?” I asked, noting that she was typically gone by this point in the day.
“We wanted to talk to you this morning about something important,” she said, still holding that smile that I couldn’t quite read. It might be truly genuine, or it might have been holding back far more than it let on. She was always good at control with things like that.
I looked between the two of them, unease creeping in. “Well, what’s the big news?”
They exchanged a glance. My mother reached for my father’s hand, offering it to him. When he took it, she met my eyes again. “Um, well there’s no easy way to say this,” she said softly. She glanced over at my father, who dropped his gaze.
He cleared his throat and finally looked me in the eyes. “Well, Asher…I had an affair on your mother a long time ago.”
The words landed like a sucker punch to the gut. I’d spent my whole life watching them love each other. Even with my dad’s demanding career in policing—always seemingly more tainted than the rest of us—he’d always had eyes for her.
I looked back at my mother, her smile finally breaking as tears filled her eyes.
In that moment, I wanted to fucking kill him.
She must’ve sensed how worked up I was getting, because she reached for my arm and said, “Oh honey, this was a long, long time ago. I knew about it, and we’ve worked through it.
But it was important for you to know. We always prided ourselves on honesty with you boys, and we didn’t want this to be a missing piece of the puzzle. ”
Confusion had to be written across my face in bold, capital letters. “What do you mean, a missing piece of the puzzle?” I snapped. “What am I missing here—other than the fact that my father cheated on my mother?”
They glanced at each other, exchanging some silent understanding.
My eyes pinged back and forth between them.
My mother drew in a deep breath. “It was a very long time ago, Asher. We’ve done the work to move forward from this, okay?
But we received a surprise call last night—one neither of us were expecting to get. ”
I shook my head, frustration already setting in. “Just cut to the chase here.”
My father spoke flatly. “I have a daughter.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
I couldn’t even compute what he was saying.
My heart was sore, but like the physical pain I’d been living with lately.
This was different. This was a deep-seated pain of betrayal—betrayal toward my mother, toward my brother and me. It was too much at this very moment.
“Are you okay?” my mother asked softly, reaching for my hand.
I lifted my eyes to hers. “Are you?” The words came out so quietly I wasn’t even sure they’d been heard.
Her lips pressed together, her eyes answering me before her mouth even could. She was hurting—clearly—but as always, she was more concerned about everyone else around her. I couldn’t keep looking at her as her tears welled in the corners of her eyes.
I shook my head and turned to my father. “So what now? Why now?”
He couldn’t even look at me. The shame was written all over him, front and centre again.
Good. He deserved misery for what he’d done to her.
He’d never been good enough for her—that much had always been true.
I never fully understood how they’d ever lasted as long as they had.
My mother has always been sunshine and warmth.
He’d always carried a chip on his shoulder, chasing perfection like anything less wasn’t worth his time.
“I, uh, I have to accept responsibility for all of this,” he said carefully. “We’ll proceed however your mother feels is best for our family and lives. But, the fact of the matter is, I have a daughter—and she needs me now.”
I slammed my hands down on the table without any pause. “Oh yeah?” I shouted. “Just like I need you, and you’re fucking there for me?”
“Don’t you carry that tone with me, Asher!” he barked back.
Rage spilled out of me faster than I could contain it. My heart was racing off-beat, like a shaky bike skidding on a slick pavement. A wave of cold sweats washed over me.
“Nothing really changes,” my mother said gently, as if that might calm me. “You just have a half-sister, and she may or may not be moving in here.”
I stared at her, dazed, letting out a hollow chuckle. It wasn’t funny—it was chaos. “Why would she move in? Where’s his ex-lover?” I quipped.
My father shot me a sharp look in return.
My mother, ever the peacekeeper, offered another sympathetic look. “She’s…she’s no longer with us. She passed away this week, leaving Mila behind, unfortunately. That’s her name, by the way.”
Guilt hit me instantly. Her mother had died. Jesus. I couldn’t imagine that kind of loss. And by the sound of it, she hadn’t even had a father—considering mine was only just learning she existed. Now she was uprooting her entire life to come here.
A saddened part of me sat with this. If I lost my mother and was left with him, I knew it would definitely be a loss I wouldn’t be able to handle.
“That’s really awful,” I finally offered. And I meant it.
My mother nodded along with me. “Yeah. it is.”
After a few moments of silence, I spoke again, “I think I’m going to go up to my room.”
I didn’t want to sit there with my father and the choices that had blindsided all of us. He was unbelievable—always acting self-righteous, always above everything and everyone. Yet, here he was, having fucked things up worse than any of us ever had.
They both nodded, surprisingly respectful of my need for space.
I went upstairs without breakfast, no longer feeling the hunger pangs. The day already felt heavier than I could handle. Between Lennon snipping at me, my friends drifting away, and my parents dropping this bomb on me, I didn’t have much left in the tank.
Once inside my room, I reached for my phone, planning to head out—maybe take a walk, clear my head. As soon as I touched it, the screen lit up with a missed text. I assumed it was one of the guys and went to slip it into my pocket, but froze when I saw the name.
Lennon.
Lennon: When and where?