He turned back to the fire and the light played across his face, highlighting the exhaustion etched into every line. "I need you to know that you're the reason I'm doing this, Veda."
Asher's shoulders sagged as my chest constricted. This was worse than anger, worse than accusations, worse than anything I could've imagined. This was trust given freely, and I didn't deserve a single word of it.
"I want to do this because you make me want to be a better man. And well… You stood up to me and made me see how broken I am?—"
"Asher, please, stop." My voice was nothing but a tremor.
This couldn't be happening.
He was supposed to be a rotten man, a loser, a drunk who could easily be ensnared into a scandal and nothing more.
And yeah, I saw those things that Clayton wanted me to see, but they weren't the truth.
They were just his pain. And now he was confessing to my presence having the opposite effect on him than Clayton wanted.
He was going sober because of me, not breaking down.
"I had a wife," he said, so quietly, I almost didn't hear him over the crackling fire. "Emma… We met in college, freshman year, some stupid party I didn't even want to go to. She was brilliant and beautiful and we fell fast. We got married too young, probably, but it felt right. We built this whole life together,and when she got pregnant, it felt perfect. Everything I'd ever wanted, finally coming together."
I pressed my fingers into my palms until my nails bit skin, but the pain didn't ground me.
I felt tears welling up.
I didn't know any of this stuff and I didn't want to know. It was only making my guilt worse.
"Then she got sick." Asher leaned forward and bit his own hand for a moment, then continued. "Stage-four ovarian cancer. It was really aggressive. The doctors said the pregnancy was making it spread faster, feeding the tumors somehow. They told us if she wanted any chance at survival, she had to terminate."
My vision blurred and I blinked hard to clear it, then swiped at the tears that escaped. I was a horrible, detestable person, a wretch so vile, no one should ever even look at me.
"She did it for me," he said, and a tear slid down his cheek, but he didn't wipe it away. "She didn't want to. She wanted that baby more than anything. But she did it because she thought we'd have more time. That we could try again after she beat the cancer… That things would go back to normal." He dragged a hand through his hair and his fingers shook. "But it didn't matter. None of it mattered. The cancer took her anyway. Three months later, she died in our bed upstairs, and I held her hand while she apologized for not being strong enough to survive."
"Asher… I'm so sorry." I choked on a sob and pressed my hand over my mouth. I had no right to cry.
I was a worthless human sent here to do evil to him, and I deserved to feel every ounce of this guilt. He wasn't a bad man. He'd been destroyed by grief.
"I started drinking the day of her funeral," he continued, and his voice had gone completely hollow now, and he turned to face me. Tears streamed down his face unabashedly. "At first, it was just to sleep. Just a glass or two of whiskey so I could get through the night without dreaming about her. Then it was to get through meetings. Then mornings. Then afternoons. I told myself I was functional, that I had it under control, that as long as I showed up to work and did my job, everything was fine. But I didn't have control. I don't have control. And it's been eating me alive for five years."
He crossed the room and sank onto the sofa beside me, close enough that our knees almost touched. "You walked into my office two weeks ago and you didn't know any of that," he said, and his eyes found mine again. "You didn't know the person I used to be or the promises I broke or the woman I failed. You just saw me, the mess I am right now, and you didn't flinch."
His hand found mine where it rested on my knee and his fingers were warm despite the tremor running through them. "You reminded me that I could be more than this. That I didn't have to drown forever. And I know it's not fair to put that on you, to make you responsible for my sobriety or my recovery or whatever you want to call it. But I needed you to know. I needed to say it out loud to someone who wouldn't use it against me."
His confession was crushing. I felt like if I spoke, I'd crack. "I don't deserve your gratitude," I whispered.
"Yes, you do." His grip tightened on my hand, and I felt how confident he was in that statement, desperate too. "You've beennothing but honest and hardworking since you got here. You've earned every bit of respect I have for you, Veda."
His words felt like daggers, though he wanted them to be comforting. I wanted to confess everything right then, pull my hand away and tell him about the money, the recordings Clayton demanded, the threats hanging over my head, the way I'd spent his brother's payment on tuition and rent and car repairs until there was no way to give it back. All of it. Every ugly truth.
But the words tangled in my throat and wouldn't come out no matter how hard I tried to force them. If I told him now, he'd hate me, look at me with disgust instead of trust. He'd never want to see me again, and I selfishly wanted to see him. My heart was so messed up and selfish, but I wanted Asher Locke and every single thing he was saying to me right now, and I didn't deserve any of it.
"Asher, I?—"
"You don't have to say anything." He let go of my hand and leaned back against the sofa. "I just needed you to understand why I wasn't there today. Why I might not be myself for a while. I'm going into detox, and maybe rehab too… I want to come out a better man for you, Veda, because you deserve it."
My vision blurred again and this time, I couldn't stop the tears. "You barely know me."
"I know enough." His smile was sad and fragile, and it broke something inside me as he pulled me closer. "I know you're strong. I know you care about people, really care, not just the performance of caring. And I know that when you're with me, I don't feel so alone anymore."
The fire crackled and popped, filling the moment so I didn't have to speak immediately.
