Chapter Thirty Eight - Asher
“I don’t know who I am without football.” Dr. Lawson leans back in his chair, always calm, always patient, like he’s got all the time in the world for me to finally say the thing I’ve been dodging for months. “That’s fair. But you know that’s not true.”
I rub a hand over my jaw, my stubble pricking my palm. I make a mental note to shave before I see her. “Yeah, well. It feels true. I’ve never been good at anything not like Ben. Fuck he had the world at his feet, made mum and dad proud.”
He waits a beat, then asks, “And what about Scarlett?”
My throat tightens at the sound of her name. It always does. “She’s killing it in Sydney. New office. New clients. She deserves that. All of it, I would’ve just got in the way you know?”
“And?”
I stare at the ceiling like it’s going to give me an answer. “And I’m still here.”
“And what would happen if you weren’t?” he asks.
“If I left?” That’s not the question I thought he was going to ask.
He nods.
“I’d miss a few games. The team would adjust. Ted might yell. Sponsors might grumble. Ted would fucking kill me actually, but if it’s for his daughter probably not.”
“And?”
“And maybe I’d stop sitting in this office every week trying to figure out why I keep letting the best thing in my life walk away, like I don’t deserve to be happy, you know?”
There it is.
Dr. Lawson doesn’t smile, but his voice softens. “There it is.”
I exhale, running my hands over my knees.
“And?” he presses. “Why do you keep letting her walk away, Asher?”
I sit back. The truth’s been rotting under the surface for too long, and now that it’s out, it burns on the way up.
“Because I thought I didn’t deserve her.”
His pen pauses mid scribble. “Because of the accident.”
I nod.
“I thought I killed her. Caleb’s girl. I thought I was drunk or on drugs.
Irresponsible. I thought I got behind the wheel and destroyed two families and.
” My voice cracks now. “Ben doesn’t get any of this you know, he’s gone.
He doesn’t get to grow old and have someone.
He was the better brother. He should be here, it should’ve been me.
” Tears well up on the rims of my eyelids and my throat begins to bob, I blink hard and look away turning my head in an attempt to hide the way I’m feeling from my shrink of all people.
I think back to Ben’s funeral, the way people spoke about him, were proud of him.
The love they had. All those people missing a man who deserved it all.
I haven’t cried over Ben in a long while, how can I be sad you know?
When I’m still here and he’s the one gone.
Dr. Lawson doesn’t push, he lets me sit in my emotions, feel what I’m thinking. He lets the silence stretch a minute longer before asking, “But now?”
Now.
Now, it’s different. Now the truth is out. And the truth?
It’s even heavier than the lie.
“I found out Caleb drugged me,” I say quietly.
“Slipped something in my drink at the party. I wasn’t drunk—I was nearly unconscious.
Behind the wheel and half-alive. He did it because I was talking to her.
Darcy. His girlfriend. He thought I was trying to take her from him, and his spot and his life. She just asked me for a lift.”
“And now that you know the truth?”
I shake my head, jaw tight. “I don’t know. I thought I’d feel relief. Like the weight would lift. But instead I feel… rage. And shame. Because I spent years hating myself for something I didn’t even do.”
“You’ve spent years carrying guilt that wasn’t yours,” he says. “That rewires how a person sees themselves.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I let it define me, I know that. I pushed Scarlett away because I thought she deserved someone better. Someone clean. Someone who isn’t this messed up in the head. And now I find out I wasn’t even guilty, but the damage is already done. The whole thing’s done a number on me.”
Dr. Lawson looks at me for a long moment, I fidget with my hands. The way he is examining me is off putting like I’ve said the wrong things. “So what are you going to do with the truth, Asher?”
I blow out a breath, maybe I’ve said the right things.
“I don’t know. I want to burn something down.
I want to go back and do it all differently.
I want to look Scarlett in the eye and tell her I’m sorry I ever let her think I didn’t want her.
She just handles her grief so well, and I let mine eat me alive. ”
“Why don’t you?”
“Because she’s in Sydney. And I’m—”
“Still here,” he finishes for me. “Trying to hold up your life with hands that are too full of ghosts.”
I laugh—bitter and short. “That’s poetic.”
“It’s also true.”
I go quiet, staring at the window. “I saw a photo last night. Scarlett posted a story. Dinner. Just a table shot. But his hand was in it.”
“Whose?”
“Justin Moore.”
Recognition flashes in his eyes. “The NBL player.”
I nod. “I know his type. I know how guys like him talk. How they flirt. I’ve heard enough stories from other players to know he’s not subtle, he got papped with her a few months back, sent me fucking loopy you know.”
“And?”
“And I lost it,” I admit. “Messaged her. Accused her. Blew up like an insecure prick. I wasn’t even mad at her—I was mad at myself. For not being there. For leaving space he could walk into.”
Dr. Lawson watches me carefully. “And now?”
“I’m flying out today. I booked the flight this morning.” I swallow hard. “I don’t care if I have to sit on the bench. I don’t care if Ted fines me or the team hates me. I can’t keep choosing punishment over love. I’ve paid for a crime I didn’t commit long enough.”
He leans back, and for the first time in all our sessions, I think I see something like pride flicker across his face.
“You’re not running anymore,” he says.
“No,” I agree. A warm feeling erupting in my chest “I’m not.”
I stand, my chest still tight but clear. The guilt is still there—but it’s no longer the one driving the car and controlling my future.
I step out of Dr Lawson’s office and call Shell.
She answers on the first ring. “If this isn’t a management emergency, you owe me coffee and a full-day retainer.”
I laugh, Shell’s almost been the perfect distraction, except for every time she sees me in person, which is a lot she says “call her you giant idiot.” I let out a deep breath. “It’s a Scarlett emergency.”
“Oh, thank god,” she breathes. “I was getting really tired of her pretending she’s fine, you know she’s posting all over Instagram showing off this high roller life but the girl’s miserable there.”
“I want to surprise her. In Sydney.”
“You gonna propose?” Her voice is the highest pitch I’ve ever heard, she’s crazy. There’s a reason her and Scar hit it off like a house on fire.
“Not yet. But I’m ready to start giving her what she deserves.” I mean it, and whether that means me we are close to finding out.
There’s a pause. “How big are we talking?”
“Big, I need flowers, certain ones, lots of em.” Yellow roses actually.
“Like flower explosion big?”
“Bigger.”
Shell grins through the phone. “I’m listening.”