“Proposal?” Wes says, eyes wide. “That’s... I haven’t even—”
“That’s way down the line,” his father finishes for him. “He has more important things to focus on right now, Marceline.”
“Well, that’s not what you told me when I was about to graduate.” She cocks her head to the side.
John looks flustered now. “It’s different for you,” he says.
“Why?” she shoots back.
“Who wants dessert?” Wesley’s mom stands before John can answer.
Dessert is salted caramel gelato with a side of Jake begging Asher to play “Bohemian Rhapsody” on the piano for him and Charlie to sing to. I almost don’t think he will, but Asher gets up followed by all the boys now as they gather around and drunkenly belt out the entire Queen song, the whole room laughing even harder than they were at the story.
Annica, Dani, and I cheer them on, which leads to the boys taking requests. Asher can play anything they throw at him. It’s incredible to watch, really, and unfortunately very attractive to see him get lost in the music. Occasionally he’ll glance up at me and smirk, and I have to look away to keep from blushing.
When Vernon retires for the night, the party is over. Wesley’s parents and sisters are leaving, and the group decides to get back into the hot tub. Everyone but Asher, who follows his dad down the hall and to the right, to the study. I tiptoe down the hall after Asher and his dad until I stand in front of a small alcove with two large double doors. One has been left open just a crack. I shouldn’tbe spying on him and his dad, but the way Ben looked at him during dinner put a bad feeling in my gut.
The two of them are smoking cigars, drinking what looks like scotch. Asher sits on a long blue velvet couch in front of a fireplace. I can’t see Ben, but I can hear him talking from somewhere in the room.
“What the fuck was that?” Ben says tersely. “You said he didn’t even want this place.”
“I did say that,” Asher says casually.
“Is this a game to you? This is our inheritance.”
“Myinheritance,” Asher corrects him.
Ben comes into view now behind Asher on the couch and drives the hot end of the cigar into Asher’s neck. My hand flies up over my mouth.
“What the fuck.” Asher swats the cigar away and it springs from Ben’s hand onto the carpet.
“Great, now look what you did,” Ben says, picking it back up. “The carpet is burned.”
“Yeah, fuck my neck, right?” Asher stands and sets down his glass.
“You are going to find a way to get this business from your cousin, or so help me, god,” his father threatens him with a pointed finger in his chest, before picking up Asher’s glass and downing the rest of it. “If there’s one thing my brother is right about it’s that you two need to be less focused on your slut girlfriends and more focused on your futures.”
“Don’t fucking call her that,” Asher spits back, and seems to brace himself for what he knows is coming next. Ben moves quickly and backhands him hard across the mouth, then grabs him by thecollar, saying something inches from his face that I can’t hear. His dad lets him go and tells him to get out of his sight. Asher strides toward the doors, and I don’t leave quick enough, still frozen in shock.
“Enjoy the show?” he says as he brushes past me. I open my mouth to say something, but what is there to say? I follow down the hall as he trudges up the stairs and slams the door to our room. I can hear Dani laughing from outside in the hot tub where our friends are and I wonder if I should just go back out in my dress. But something nags me to follow him.
Asher is on the love seat in front of the fireplace in the bedroom, a new full glass of scotch in hand, looking just as he did in the study, but now with a bloody lip and burn mark on his neck. His hair is ruffled like he’s been running his hands through it and his blazer is tossed on the ground, leaving just the white button-down, wrinkled and stretched from where his dad grabbed him. He looks defeated and broken.
I shut the door behind me, but he doesn’t look at me, and I don’t know what to say. I slip off my heels and make my way to the couch, where I sit on the stone floor in front of him. He still doesn’t look at me, just straight into the fire watching the flames crack and burn, so I lightly place a hand to his knee, and then rest my head against his thigh. I look up at him, and he looks away.
“Asher—” I start.
“Don’t,” he says, taking a sip of the auburn liquid in the glass.
So I don’t.
We sit like that for a while until I get up to join him on the couch, sitting with one leg tucked in so I can face him. From this side I can see the small burn blister forming on his neck.
“Is he always like that?” I whisper to him.
He doesn’t say anything, just stares unblinking into the flames.
Everything in me is saying to comfort him, but I don’t know how. I think of Thanksgiving in his bedroom as I scoot closer to him, leaning in slow and gently pressing my lips to the burn. I wait for him to push me away, but he doesn’t, he just sighs. So I press another light kiss to the side of his mouth, where his lip is cut. He still doesn’t turn toward me, so I put a gentle finger to the other side of his jaw to turn him to me. He goes along with it. The look in his eyes breaks my heart a million times over and I want him to say something rude, I want him to give me that know-it-all smirk. Be an asshole, I think. Make a snide comment. Just don’t be this.
