"Nah, I'm kidding. He was human once, before he took over the business. Before the accident." Liam's tone softens. "He cares about you."
My heart skips a beat. "He cares about being in control," I say, trying to will myself into believing that's all this is to him. "Not about me."
"You're wrong," Liam says, his voice firm and certain. "He's obsessed with you."
I freeze. "What?"
"Don't play dumb, Brie. It's always been you. Even back when you were too fucking young for him, he followed you around like a fucking shadow." Liam is breathing harder, like he isn't thrilled about any of this. "He never brings women home, you know that? The ones he takes to parties are just for the cameras. Half the time, he pays them to show up and make him look less like…whatever he is."
My mind is racing. Hearing Asher say it was one thing, but having Liam confirm it is something else altogether. It's terrifying. "He's just…doing you a favor, that's all."
"I stopped asking him to look out for you a long time ago. He does it because he loves you, the only way he knows how to love, at least."
I swallow hard, my heart pounding like a war drum against my breastbone. "Did he tell you that?"
"Hell no. Ash doesn't talk about his feelings," he says. "If you want to know where his head is at, you have to read the fucking tea leaves. But you're a smart girl. You'll figure it out."
I want to. I really do. But the only thing I feel right now is the ache where Asher should be.
"One of the junior agents told me…" I hesitate, not sure how to broach the subject. "Am I the reason the two of you argue?"
"Among other things," Liam sighs.
"You never told me."
"Never figured it mattered. You've always sworn you hated him. I decided a long goddamn time ago to let you two figure it out on your own, but you're my sister. Yeah, we argue. Every fucking time he's an asshole to you, we argue." Liam sounds tired, like he might as well argue with a brick wall than argue with Asher.
"I don't hate him."
"Oh, I'm well aware," he says dryly. "Only someone you love could make you feel that kind of rage, but you're just as stubborn as he is. You always have been. You two fight because neither of you are ready to admit how you really feel."
"What should I do?" I whisper, clutching the phone tight. I need him to tell me, because I honestly don't know. All I know is that fighting him is the worst part.
"He's the one you should be having this conversation with, baby sister, not me."
"You suck." I swallow at the prospect of even trying to have this conversation with Asher. I'm not sure I'll survive it, not after today, not after realizing just how unhinged he can be when it comes to me.
"You love me anyway."
"I guess so," I grumble, making him laugh. "I'll call you later."
"Love you." Liam disconnects, leaving me alone with my thoughts all over again.
They're even louder this time, and somehow, impossibly, more terrifying. Maybe because I admitted how I felt about him once, and look where it led. I don't think I've ever been able to separate my confession from what came after, like one caused the other. Just like I've never been able to really admit that it wasn't the accident that made me hate him. It was the way he rejected me. It was hearing him say that he didn't love me.
Even now, those words still ring in my ears. They way they made me feel still haunts and taunts me. I'm not brave enough to face hearing it again.
Maybe that's why it's so damn hard to believe that he actually loves me. Because if I let myself believe it, if I let down my guard for even a second, he might actually break me again. And, just like then, it'll be my fault for allowing it to happen.
Loving him in secret is easy. No one has to know that I've never stopped. But loving him out loud? Actually letting him in? Well, that means being real, in a way I haven't been in a long, long time. And there is nothing more terrifying than being that real with the one person who knows the shape of you ruin.
My phone rings, shattering the silence. I nearly drop it when I see Asher's name on the screen.
I answer on the first ring, my voice a little breathless. "Hello?"
He doesn't bother with greetings. "I'll pick you up in an hour. We have an event. Be ready, and pack a bag."
There's no please. No hello. No apology for humiliating me, ruining me, annihilating my carefully constructed reality, and then walking out. There's nothing but that single command.
