Chapter 23 Jared
The pain was instant, a searing agony that brought tears to my eyes. I felt as if I had been physically struck, my entire world upended in the space of a heartbeat.
I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. I could only stare at Asher, at the man I had given my heart to, as he threw our love away with a few carefully chosen words.
The room erupted into chaos, reporters shouting questions, cameras flashing. But I was oblivious, my eyes locked on Asher, silently begging him to take it back, to tell the truth.
But he didn't. He just stood there, his face pale and stricken, as the world caved in around us.
I don't remember standing, don't remember walking out of the room. All I knew was that I had to get away, had to escape the suffocating press of bodies, the deafening roar of voices.
Almost without thinking, I found myself at Mason's door, my hand poised to knock. But before I could even tap on the wood, the door swung open. "Jared? What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at the press conference with Asher?"
The sound of Asher's name was like a punch to the gut, a fresh wave of agony crashing over me. I opened my mouth to answer, but all that came out was a choked sob.
Mason's eyes widened, his face softening with concern. He ushered me inside, guiding me to the couch and pressing a glass of whiskey into my hand. I downed it in one gulp, relishing the burn as it slid down my throat.
Mason swore softly, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder.
I blinked back the fresh tears that threatened. "I thought we were ready. I thought he was ready. But he just threw it all away."
Mason opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak, there was another knock at the door. He frowned, rising to answer it.
To my surprise, it was Dylan. He looked as wrecked as I felt, his hair standing on end as if he'd been running his hands through it.
Dylan pushed past Mason, his eyes finding mine. "Jared. I'm so sorry. I had no idea he was going to do that."
I couldn't even muster a response, my throat too tight, my heart too battered. I just shook my head, dropping my gaze to the floor.
There was a beat of heavy silence. And then, to my utter shock, Mason spoke.
"Well, well. Look who decided to grace us with his presence. To what do I owe the pleasure? Come to profess your undying love for me at last?"
My head snapped up, my eyes wide. Was he serious? Now, of all times?
But Dylan, to my amazement, didn't miss a beat. "In your dreams. We both know you're the one pining after me. I'm just here to make sure Jared's okay."
Mason scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Please. As if I'd ever pine after you. I have standards, you know."
"Standards? Is that what we're calling your sad little crush these days?" Dylan retorted, his lips twitching.
I stared at them, my mouth hanging open. Were they really doing this? Now, when my world had just imploded?
As they continued to bicker, their words flew fast and sharp. Here I was, my heart in tatters, and these two idiots were squabbling like an old married couple.
"Crush? You wish. I'm way out of your league," Mason said, tossing his head.
"That's rich, coming from the guy who's been making heart eyes at me for months," Dylan shot back, his grin wicked.
"I think you're confusing me with your own reflection, you narcissistic prick."
"Big word for a meathead like you. Been studying up to impress me?"
On and on they went, their insults growing more and more outlandish. And despite the devastation that still coursed through my veins, I found myself laughing, the sound startled and raw.
They broke off, turning to stare at me in surprise.
"Jared?" Dylan said, his brow furrowed. "You okay, man?"
I shook my head. "No," I said honestly. "But watching you two go at it like an old married couple, it helps, somehow."
Mason and Dylan exchanged a glance, something soft and uncertain passing between them. For a moment, I thought they might actually acknowledge the attraction that crackled in the air like static.
But then Mason cleared his throat, looking away. "Yeah, well. Someone's got to keep this idiot in line."
Dylan rolled his eyes, but there was a fondness in the gesture. He turned to me, his expression growing serious.
"Jared, can we talk? Just for a minute? Look, I know you're hurt. And I know you're angry. You have every right to be."
I stiffened, bracing myself for the defense of Asher I was sure was coming.
But Dylan surprised me. "What he did was shitty. He got your hopes up, made you believe you were going public. And then he pulled the rug out from under you in the most public, most humiliating way possible."
I blinked, taken aback by his bluntness.
Dylan sighed. "The thing is, Asher's not like you and me. He's been through a lot, stuff that's left scars that aren't easy to see. Did he ever tell you about what happened in college? With the theatre production?"
I shook my head.
"It was our sophomore year. Asher had been cast as the lead in this big musical, a role he'd been dreaming of playing for years. But when it came time to perform, to step out on that stage in front of all those people, he froze."
Dylan's eyes were distant, lost in the memory. "He had a panic attack, right there in the wings. Couldn't catch his breath, couldn't stop shaking. In the end, his understudy had to go on in his place."
I swallowed hard, my heart clenching at the thought of Asher in such pain, such fear.
"He was devastated," Dylan continued softly. "Felt like he'd let everyone down, like he'd failed. It took him a long time to come back from that, to find the courage to perform again. And then there's his family. When they found out he was gay, they kicked him out. Cut him off completely. He was on his own, scrambling to make ends meet while trying to keep up with school and his music."
I closed my eyes, a wave of empathy and sorrow washing over me.
"I'm not telling you this to make excuses for him," Dylan said, turning to face me. "What I'm trying to say is, Asher's got a lot of baggage. A lot of fear, trauma and insecurity that he's still working through. And sometimes, when he's faced with something big, scary and life-changing, he panics. He falls back on old habits, old defenses."
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "But I can't keep putting myself out there, only to have him pull away. I have to protect myself too."
He nodded, his expression somber. "Just don't write him off completely, okay? He loves you, Jared. I know he does. He's just got some work to do, some growing and healing. And that's on him, not you."
Mason cleared his throat, his voice gruff but not unkind. "You know, Jared, I've known you a long time. And I've never seen you as alive, as happy, as you were with Asher. What you two had was real. The kind of thing most people spend their whole lives searching for and never find. In some other cases, people don’t want to be the first one to admit. And before you know it, it’s too late."
I swallowed hard, wondering if Mason was referring to the attraction between him and Dylan. "Yeah, well. Maybe it wasn't as real as I thought. Maybe we were just fooling ourselves."
Mason was quiet for a moment, considering. Then, softly, "Is that really what you believe? Or is that just the hurt talking?"
I didn't know what to believe anymore.
"He's right, you know,” Dylan said. “And I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with Mason."
Despite myself, I felt my lips twitch at the note of disgust in his tone.
Dylan’s expression turned serious. "Look, Jared. I know you're hurting. But I also know Asher. I know how much he loves you, how much he needs you. Especially now."
I looked away, my throat tight. "I don't know if I can be what he needs right now, Dylan. I don't know if I'm strong enough."
Dylan squeezed my shoulder once, then straightened.
"I should go. He's probably a mess right now, blaming himself and spiraling. He needs his best friend right now. I need to..." He trailed off, his brow furrowed with worry.
To my surprise, Mason stood, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Before you go, I, uh… I made your favorite. That stupid vegan lasagna you're always harping on about."
Dylan blinked, clearly as taken aback as I was. "You did?"
Mason shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes. "Yeah, well. I had some extra zucchini lying around. Thought you might, I don't know… Want to take some with you. For later."
I stared at Mason, at this unexpected display of thoughtfulness. In all the years I'd known him, I'd never seen him do something so considerate. So blatantly caring for someone he claimed to dislike.
Dylan, too, seemed at a loss for words. He gaped at Mason, his cheeks flushing a dull red. "Yeah, that would be... thanks, Mason."
Mason grunted, turning away to hide what I could have sworn was a pleased smile. "Whatever. Don't make a big deal out of it."
But as he busied himself packing up a container of lasagna, I caught the glances he snuck at Dylan, the way his eyes softened when they landed on him. And I realized, with a start, that this was Mason's way of showing he cared, of offering comfort in his own gruff, roundabout way.
Dylan, still blushing, took the offered container with a shy smile. "Thanks, Mase. Really. It’s really sweet of you."
Mason scoffed, but I could see the tips of his ears turning red. "Sweet? What am I, your boyfriend?"
Dylan's blush deepened, but he grinned, a spark of his usual mischief returning. "You wish. As if you could handle all this."
He gestured to himself with a waggle of his eyebrows, and Mason chuckled, rolling his eyes.
Dylan, still grinning, hoisted the lasagna in a mock salute. "Well, I'd better get this back to Asher before it gets cold. Wouldn't want him to miss out on your culinary genius."
Mason flipped him off, but there was no heat behind the gesture. "Get out of here. And take care of him, yeah?"
Dylan's expression sobered, his eyes soft. "Always."
With a final nod to me and Mason, he slipped out the door, the container of lasagna cradled against his chest like something precious.
In his wake, I slumped back against the couch, my head tipped back, my eyes closed.
"I feel like a monster," I said quietly, the admission scraping my throat raw. "Walking away from Asher like that, after everything I promised. After I swore my love would last forever."
I heard Mason sigh, felt the couch dip as he settled beside me.
I swallowed hard, my eyes stinging. "I don't want him to think I'm pressuring him. To come out, to be someone he's not ready to be. I just wish he trusted me enough to tell me. To let me in, let me help him face his fears."
Mason was quiet for a long moment. Then, softly, "Maybe he's not there yet. Maybe he needs to do this on his own, in his own time."
I opened my eyes, turning to look at him. "So what do I do? Just sit back and watch him suffer? Watch him tear himself apart with guilt, shame and self-loathing? God, I feel like my heart's been ripped out of my chest. Like I can't breathe, can't think, can't imagine a future without him in it."
Mason's hand landed on my back, warm and solid and steady.
I pulled out my phone, my hand shaking as I stared at the screen. Dozens of missed calls, dozens of unread texts. All from Asher. I could picture him now, curled up in his bed, his face streaked with tears, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps as he tried again and again to reach me.
The thought sent a lance of pain through my chest. I wanted to go to him, to gather him in my arms and hold him tight, to whisper reassurances and promises against his skin until the fear and the hurt faded away.
But I knew that if I did that now, I would say things I didn't mean. I would make promises I couldn't keep, would offer absolution I wasn't ready to give. And that would just hurt us both more in the long run.
So instead, with shaking fingers, I typed out a text. Short, simple, but honest.
"I need some time, Ash. We both do. To figure out what we want, what we need. Right now, I think we need to take a step back. To breathe, to heal. I'm so sorry."
I hit send before I could second-guess myself, before I could take back the words.