Chapter Twenty Nine - Scarlett
He was on drugs. Well, he was drugged.
The words keep echoing in my head.
I’m driving home after our hot and steamy post fight post game make up sex. I’m still unravelling everything he’s told me and everything Caleb said too.
I watch Asher, jaw tight, posture rigid, like saying it out loud might rip him apart. But we need to get to the bottom of this. I know he’s probably told the same story a million times, but I’ve only heard it once. So I press him again.
“My family’s lawyer had me tested the morning after,” he says, voice low. “He didn’t want to take chances with the media. He had the test sent to a private lab.”
“And?” I whisper.
“There were traces of sleeping pills I’ve never touched. Ever. Some kind of Xanax. Sedative. Not alcohol. Not weed. Something serious.”
My heart skips.
“Only my parents know, about that part,” he says. “And now… you. Everyone else thinks I was injured, but I was forced to attend some weird weekly rehab program for 12 months and wasn’t allowed to play. That was the deal my lawyers got.”
I sit there, stunned.
He looks at me like he’s waiting for me to change my mind.
I don’t. I won’t. I have no reason to believe this man other than I love him—I know that.
I drop Asher off at his house on the main strip of Dawson’s Ridge.
He gives me a soft kiss before he gets out of the passenger seat.
“Thank you for believing me darling. You don’t know how much this all means to me.
I’ve got a therapy appointment early tomorrow before training, but I’ll call you after. ”
After another long, lingering kiss goodbye, I drive off into the night, the city lights blurring as I head for home. Asher’s story replays in my mind on a relentless loop, every word he said lining up—then clashing—with Caleb’s version of the truth.
Caleb, who was so sure Asher’s the villain in this story.
Asher, who looked me in the eye and swore he wasn’t.
Was I really that blinded by love?
Are my glasses rose-coloured, or am I choosing to believe him because I need it to be true? Because if I don’t believe him—if I admit there’s even a chance he’s lying—then I have to admit I might not know the man I love at all.
And that’s worse.
If Asher really was drugged that night… then who would do that to him? It couldn’t have been one of the boys on the team—they’d die for him. They know he’s a once-in-a-generation talent. He’s their guy.
Well.
All except one.
But no. Not Caleb.
I know him. I grew up with him. He’s cocky and reckless, sure—but not evil. Not calculated. He wouldn’t risk someone’s life over a roster spot.
…Would he?
I look at the time on my dash and it’s just past 9:00PM, which means Shell will be awake in the middle of a Netflix marathon, and right now I need a friend and I need advice.
I hit the call button on the car LED, and the phone rings no more than once before she answers.
“Scarlett, I am watching the funniest romcom, I was just about to text you it could be you and Asher if you got your shit together.” she hums with excitement.
“Well, I’m here to report we are back on, more than back on. We just had the best sex of my life.” My excitement has matched hers and she’s pleased with the revelation.
I hear her pop another bite of something in her mouth “omg tell me all the juicy details, you know I’m living through you and this written in the stars fullback meets pr girl real life rom com moment.”
“Well let’s just say we christened the field and–”
Before I can finish Shell interjects “Get the fuck out, that’s got to be peak sex life moment, like one of those memories you add into the never forget folder to tell your grand daughter about in 50 years and she doesn’t believe you.”
“Weird way to look at it, but definitely that type of moment” I’m focused on turning into Ted’s driveway when I see someone waiting near the gate to my granny flat.
“Huh, odd Caleb is here. I’ll call you back when I’m inside Shell.”
“You’ll see me tomorrow morning anyway, I’ve now got a date with my vibrator.” she hangs up on a laugh.