Chapter 35
Asher
Racing through the doors of my childhood home, I watched as every head turned to face me.
The relief that washed over my mother’s face was almost unrecognizable.
She was worried to death. I could see it. It hung palpably in the air.
I kicked off my shoes and walked toward her just as she got up to embrace me in a hug. She pushed her face into my neck and began to sob.
I didn’t know what to do—so I did what I’d learned to do with Lennon.
I just held her. I ensured she knew she was safe to unleash the demons inside of her.
My embrace was committed. My chin rested on top of her head and my arms wrapped around her frame.
“It’s okay, Mom. I’m here. What’s going on?” I whispered.
My father rounded the corner holding two crystal glasses of what looked like scotch on the rocks. His stern brow furrowed the moment he caught sight of me.
They weren’t celebrating.
They were mourning.
“Where’s Wyatt?” I asked, suddenly aware of how cold the house felt.
My dad placed the glasses down on the counter, hiking up his sleeves as he trudged toward me. My mother turned just in time to see my own father wind up and drive his fist directly in my face.
The immediate shock of pain seared my face, causing an explosion.
With that, the house erupted into chaos. My mother screamed for him to stop. My father shouted something intelligible about me being selfish. A female voice begged everyone to stop.
And before I knew it—I was lying on the floor.
Blood burned hot, the arteries pumping blood fast to my face. I felt it pour from my nose.
Fuck.
I tried my best to stand, but the unease in my form kept me stumbling back down. Warm hands gripped my shoulders, steadying my head. I couldn’t even focus on what was going on around me. The shouting persisted, and it was deafening.
“Asher, take a deep breath, okay?” a young voice said confidently.
I squeezed my eyes together. It was Mila. As I opened my eyes once more, I briefly confirmed that it, in fact, was her. I rolled over onto all fours, giving myself an internal pep talk about getting the fuck up off the floor.
Blood was pouring from my face at an uncontrollable rate. But I staggered to a stand, knowing I likely looked absolutely diabolical.
“Where. The fuck. Is Wyatt?” I asked once more with determination.
The room grew silent, but the energy charged.
Mila looked between both of them, hoping someone would fess up. When neither of them did, she sighed.
“Wyatt’s in the hospital on suicide watch. He attempted to take his life.”
Between the blood pouring from my nose and the shocking information I just received, my skin paled.
Suicide?
Attempt?
Hospital?
No.
“Are you sure?” I broke, staring into her soul trying to find any inkling that she was wrong. “That—that can’t be right.”
“You’d fucking know what’s going on around here if you weren’t such a selfish little prick!” my father barked, stepping toward me once more before my mother shoved him back.
She looked at me, pity crawling across her skin.
“Yes, my darling. He attempted to take his life. But I know he is in the best hands at the hospital. He’s where he needs to be.”
Behind her, my father paced like a caged animal.
“No!” he shouted. “He’s where YOU should be!”
I froze, really allowing what he just said to process in my brain. The chaotic room stopped. The world stopped spinning.
With hysterics, my mother slapped him across the face before storming off upstairs. I’m not sure where she was going or what she was doing, but my father didn’t even attempt to follow her.
The look on his face said he was not about to withdraw his statement.
“How could you?” Mila whispered.
“Oh, fuck off. Both of you. You know what I meant,” he snapped with his brash attempt at gaslighting us. We knew what he meant, there was no going back.
The blood still dripped steadily from my nose, but I ignored it knowing I needed to be present for Mila. I took her hand and led her downstairs to the basement living room. She was too young and too fresh in this family to stand in the crossfire upstairs.
Once we sat, I started to speak, but she beat me to it.
“Asher, I don’t know if it’s my place…but your mother has been worried sick about you. She’s been crying by the window, like, praying for you to come home.”
“I haven’t even been gone long,” I protested before really looking at her. She gave me a look with her youthful eyes, having seen far too much already. It wasn’t fair.
“That may be true, but your mom got the news the moment you took off. About your appointment therapy thing? And then the very next day, we find your brother overdosing on pills at his house. So yeah, maybe it wasn’t a long time, but for your mother, it has felt like ages.”
The tone in her voice was that of empathy and consideration for my mother. I felt pride swell inside me that she could see it before being a legal adult herself. Shame crept in quietly. I was acting selfishly, and I wasn’t checking in on my family.
The only person who had been there for me throughout all of this was my mom.
She had been the worrier for the two of us, the medication freak, the researcher on new inventive ways to treat my incurable disease, and by far, the most supportive friend I’ve ever had.
She was my mother, but she soon became more of a friend.
“Why did Wyatt…” I couldn’t finish my question.
Mila understood.
She crossed her legs and faced me on the couch.
“Wyatt was struggling—as you know—as a surgeon lately. He made a catastrophic error in surgery, and the patient died on the table. I guess he just couldn’t take it anymore, carrying that type of guilt.
The amount of pressure he must’ve carried.
He probably feels like he murdered someone.
And, I guess, maybe he did in some way.”
The word murder didn’t sound right. It felt harsh. My brother was no murderer.
But he did confess to being an average at best surgeon.
Guilt wasn’t worried about the facts. He knew himself well enough that he wasn’t doing the work at the level it needed to be.
I watched all the hours of studying and testing he went through.
The schooling, the rigorous work he was put through. I know it wasn’t for lack of trying.
Murderer. I’m sure that was how he felt.
Thoughts ran through my brain like a marathon. I couldn’t decide what to ask Mila, not wanting to overload her with an interrogation, but I had to know.
“Who found him?” I finally asked.
Mila’s shoulders slumped. The pain written across her face she attempted to mask.
“I did.”
Her voice croaked, but she made every attempt to not cry.
She slowed her breath and stared at the ceiling.
She pleaded with herself to hold it together.
A once plump cheek almost deflated with dark circles under her eyes from the stress she carried.
I pulled her in for a hug. It was then that she felt okay enough to let it all out.
Her body shook with the trauma of the nightmare she just lived through.
Mila was entering into this family full of her own pain. The loss of her mother. Uprooting her entire life to move in with a father she never knew. And now? Now she had a defective brother who would likely die soon, a brother who was suicidal and, to top it off, a new step-mom.
Fuck.
Shortly after the outburst of tears, Mila pulled away from my chest.
“I went over because he told me I could go anytime. I was feeling…out of place here. I’m grateful that you guys took me in when I didn’t have a home, but…it’s not mine. I miss my mom. I miss the smell of her. I miss the smell of her cooking and her hugs and…” Her voice wavered.
Before she could finish her sentence, the tears took away her voice. Her face collided in my chest once more.
I shushed her while rubbing her shoulder. I didn’t know if I was doing an okay job of comforting her or not. But it was the best I could do.
“I’m so sorry, Mila. I’m so sorry I haven’t been around,” I whispered.
She cleared her throat, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “I knocked on the door and there was no answer. But the car was in the driveway, and he gave me a spare key. I figured I could just go in.”
Her breathing became erratic.
“I am so glad I did, but also, a selfish part of me wished I’d never seen that.
He was turning blue… He was going to—” she began hyperventilating once again.
“He was going to die, Asher. He was lying there on the floor and everything, still semi-conscious. The—the look on his face was everything horrible you could feel. Desperate. Sad. Shame. Fear. All of it.”
The words she got out were choked. “Mila. I’m so glad you were there, but it’s not fair that you had to see that. You are so incredibly brave to have saved his life, you know that?”
“I think he got fired,” she finally said.
That settled something dark within me. It was his fault then. Something must have been missed. Something critical. Something so important he shouldn’t have missed it. Fuck.
Of all the surgeries I had, not one surgeon fucked up. I am still living because of their dedication to perfection. There was no room for error.
Moments passed, and Mila finally calmed down. She was stable, tired from the discussion we just had.
“Where have you been, Asher?” she asked, treading lightly. “I assume this isn’t your norm since your mom has been so up in arms about you being out, even though you’re a full-ass adult.”
Her comment made me chuckle. Mila was funny with her big brown eyes and big, tousled hair, full of sass. But she was wise beyond her years, likely from having to grow up quickly.
I rubbed the back of my neck and said sheepishly, “I think I met someone.”
I knew instantly that my cheeks flared red with the admission. I couldn’t even look her in the eyes for the fear I felt for adoring a girl so deeply. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about someone.
“I’ve just fallen. Like a chump.” I chuckled. “She is perfect. Like, she doesn’t give me my way, which is infuriating and challenging, but she makes no qualms about my irritation and optimism. She is everything I’m not,” I admit, giving more than I had wanted to originally.
Mila’s grin was infectious. “Sounds like you’re cheesin’.”
I laughed. “Yeah. Maybe I am.”
“She must be something to have your panties in a twist.”
“Ohhh kay, my panties are in no twist, I’ll have you know,” I announce, rolling my eyes. “But, she’s definitely got me in her clutches. Maybe I’ll bring her around someday.”
The moment I said it out loud, I knew it couldn’t happen.
My mother would connect the dots. Not that that would matter as a fully consenting adult.
However, she would be disheartened by my lack of self-control when it came to her inadvertent patients.
She would probably lose her shit, and my dad would fucking explode.
It would be chaos, all at the expense of Lennon. I couldn’t do that to her.
“I should get some rest,” Mila finally said, appearing calmer.
I nod. “Yeah, me too. It’s been a night, that’s for sure.”
She paused at the stairs. “Sure has been…By the way, you should get your nose looked at. It hasn’t stopped bleeding, and that seems too long for it to keep going, you know? Maybe it’s broken?”
In the pit of my stomach, I knew why the blood hadn’t stopped. It had nothing to do with a broken nose, and everything to do with my defective heart.
“Yeah,” I lied softly, “I’ll get it looked at tomorrow.”
She attempted to leave again.
“Oh, and Mila?”
She glanced back, exhaustion seeping into her eyes.
“Thank you. For taking care of this family. Even if we’re brand new.”
Mila gave me a tired smile before turning to make her way upstairs. I sat there, the taste of iron apparent in my throat, conflicted at how many of us were slowly breaking at the very same time.