Chapter 32
Asher
Lennon and I left the group session both seemingly floating on air.
Her session with Rachel must have gone well earlier.
There was a calmer aura around her the second she opened the apartment door, like a heavy piece of baggage was lifted straight from her shoulders.
In that moment, I realized how grateful I was that she was going to therapy at all.
It had to work. She had to change her mind eventually. I didn’t want to tell her, but loving her went hand in hand with wanting her desire to live to grow. It was wishful thinking—I knew that—but I couldn’t relinquish the thought that maybe, just maybe, it would work.
The air floating around us was warm, and though fall was creeping in, it was still acceptable to be outside in summer clothes.
“Want to hit up a bucket list item tonight?” I asked on a whim.
She chuckled, like she’d expected the question. “What did you have in mind?”
I quirked my mouth and stared up at the sky, pretending I didn’t already have an answer already prepared.
“We’re going camping, babe.”
Lennon burst out laughing, apparently under the impression that I was a comedian. “What’s so funny?”
She stopped short in her tracks and eyed me. “Babe? Camping? Sheesh. Do I look like the rugged, granola girlfriend type?”
She had me there. She wasn’t exactly the rugged, outdoorsy type. But I’d never been camping either—and it was on the list.
“I know it isn’t your thing, but it’s on the list. And, well, I’ve never been ca—”
“WHAT?!” she cut in, shocked.
I stopped and turned to her. “I’ve never been camping. Is that unusual?”
She scoffed and walked ahead of me, hiding a saddened memory that touched her while pain was written across her face.
“It just seems like something you’d do, I guess. I could picture you and your family renting some big-ass RV and cruising to some government-owned park, calling it camping.”
I chuckled at her jab. “Contrary to popular belief, my family was more of a skiing vacation type, thank you very much. And, also, my mom is deathly allergic to wasps, so she never wanted to risk being stung.”
We walked in silence for awhile on the way back to her apartment. An inkling inside of me started thinking it was slowly becoming our apartment, and I didn’t hate that idea. We hadn’t been together long, but the time that we’d spent together had been meaningful—intentional.
Breaking the silence, Lennon spoke softly. “I spent a lot of time camping. Sort of.”
I glanced over at her. Her expression was closed off—not guarded, just heavy. She needed space to explain herself, and she didn’t want pity or interruption. She was working through something I likely wouldn’t be able to truly comprehend.
“Well…I guess it wasn’t camping. It was like…living outside. Permanently.”
I nodded, giving her more of an opportunity to speak. Her tone said she wasn’t finished. I reached for her hand, my thumb tracing slow circles against her soft flesh.
“I was homeless for a long time before my dad’s life insurance came through.
My mother was gone. My dad was gone. And before I was eighteen, I’d already experienced the dark side of foster care.
I’d rather fend for myself than allow anything more to happen to me.
I’d been through enough, you know? I was tired of living so unpredictably—fearing everything that lurked around the corners. So I just…ran away.”
I squeezed her hand, holding back the questions, the rage, the urge to kill anyone who touched her, who hurt her, who took it upon themselves to take from her. Fury brewed inside of me, and it took everything in me not to show it.
But this wasn’t about me.
It was about her.
“We don’t have to go,” I said quietly. “It isn’t important to me.”
She shook her head in protest. “No, no. I want memories that I choose. Not the ones that were forced upon me. Like…what if I were able to erase all the terrible memories with a single good one? Wouldn’t that be beautiful? A life rewritten?”
Hope did something reckless inside my chest. It was something in the way she spoke this in such perfect light. Hope, that maybe—just maybe—if there were enough beautiful memories that she chose to make, that she would inevitably change her mind about ending it.
“That would be the most beautiful thing I’d ever get to witness in this lifetime, Lennon.”
Her lips curved into this radiant smile that was a rarity to witness. Fuck, she was so mesmerizing. Her happiness was earned, never given freely.
We reached her door, and I unlocked it for her. My chest felt tight, my breath shallow, but I didn’t let it show.
She waltzed ahead of me with a little extra pep in her step. Another rarity.
“So, tonight?” she asked, whipping around.
I coughed, covering it with a laugh. “Does that work for you?”
She smiled coyly. “Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn’t.”
Stalking toward her, I closed the distance, spun her around, and lifted her into my arms. Her arms looped around my neck and her legs wrapped around my waist with ease and comfort, like it was instinctual.
“Is that how you want to play it?” I breathed into her neck, kissing the soft crease before nipping her skin.
“Mmm,” she groaned, tipping her head back to give me more access, enjoying the sensation. “I think it is.”
I nipped her again, harder. “You’re such a menace.”
She pulled back, deviance dark in her eyes. “I think you kind of love that about me.”
My lips pulled into a wide grin. “You got that right, Lennon,”
Then I spanked her ass.
She dropped to her feet and headed toward her bedroom, calling out over her shoulder, “I don’t have any camping gear, but I’ll be ready to do this thing in five.”
Laughing to myself, I pulled out my phone, ignoring the flurry of missed texts and calls, and dialled Duke.
Placing the phone to my ear, he answered on the first ring. “Hello, Asher, what can I do for you?”
“Can you grab some camping gear and meet me at Lennon’s?”
“How many nights?” he asked without hesitation.
“One. We’ll need some food, too. So whatever you come up with is perfectly fine.”
“I’ll be there in thirty.” Then the call disconnected.
I collapsed onto the couch while Lennon got ready. I’d fainted earlier while she’d been at therapy, trying to tidy her place. I probably needed to start the meds again. I was delaying the inevitable—to steal more time with Lennon. It never felt like enough.
The couch swallowed me into its pillowed embrace. This thing was built for naps, I was certain of it. I stretched out, resting my head on the pillow closest to the hallway she’d disappeared down.
The feeling of rest crept in. It was so welcoming I could feel my body dip into the creases of the couch, melding together as one. The lids of my eyes fell heavy, the darkness creeping eerily close.
As much as I feared the darkness, the sensation was oddly comforting. Too comforting. A light to welcome me home. A warm cup of hot chocolate after being caught in a rain storm. A home cooked meal.
Like her.
This was how I felt about her.
Lennon.
* * *
“Hey, sleepy head. Wake up.”
Her hand shook my shoulder. Opening my heavy lids, I caught a glimpse of the angel over the top of me. Panic flooded my senses as I shot upright.
“What time is it?”
She laughed, not catching onto how disoriented I was. “You must’ve just closed your eyes. I was gone, like, five minutes.”
I rubbed my eyes, internally scolding myself to get my shit together. Chuckling, I admitted, “Your couch is dangerous.”
She plopped beside me. “You got that right. I knew that if I was going to exist in this life in any capacity, I wanted things that made me feel safe. This couch was one of my first purchases, actually.”
Her fingers brushed the soft, emerald fabric, giving it a little push to memorize its cushion.
“If you’re too tired, we can go another time,” she offered gently.
I shook my head in protest, bringing my body to a stance. “No, we’re going tonight—” And then my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I checked it, the screen illuminating brightly. A smile spread across my face while I read the message.
“See? The timing is perfect. Duke is on his way.”
She chuckled and nodded her head toward the bag that sat at the front door. “That’s all I’ve got. So I hope you have the rest taken care of.”
I took her hand. “I look forward to showing off my tent -pitching skills.”
A gut laugh burst out of her mouth. “All those skills from your imaginary camping trips?”
“Get your perfect ass outside before I spank the brat right out of you, little siren.”
The threat was playful, but it motivated her to get moving. “Yes, sir.”
She skipped ahead, and I clutched my chest, silently praying to whatever God might be listening to give me one more fucking night with her.