I already knew about Asher’s time in juvie, so I only briefly read through them before moving on to the rest of the file.
Illegal deals, drugs, street fights, and blackmail are just some of the things I find within the pages. A few months ago, any one of those things would have been a deal breaker for me. But now?
Now I can’t imagine my life without them.
I reach for the text log I’ve been avoiding.
Knowing Grandad, there is a very real chance that it’s fabricated, but on the off chance that it’s not, I’ve been too nervous to read it.
I glance at the door again. I keep expecting one of them to burst into the room, or to at least check on me, but I’ve been up here for at least an hour, and I haven’t heard either of them come up the stairs.
They’re just giving you space,I try to reason with myself.
But what if that’s not the case?
What if they’re going to leave the same way everyone else has before?
My chest tightens at the thought. I’ve already had Rowan walk out of my life without a word once. Can I trust him not to do it again?
I blow out a breath and read over the first few lines.
Rowan: Is everything ready for the masquerade party?
Asher: Yep. She’s nervous, but I think once she’s there, she’ll be okay.
Asher: Any word from Jeffrey?
Rowan: Not yet. I don’t think he realizes you’re dating her yet, which works in our favor.
Asher: Only if she agrees to go along with all of this.
Rowan: She will.
Asher: You sound so sure.
Rowan: Because I am. She’s already in love with you. She won’t be able to walk away now.
I stop reading when a tear falls against the page and my vision blurs.
I’m trying not to jump to conclusions, but my mind wanders to the worst-case scenario from the texts.
Are they just using me to take down my grandfather?
I don’t want to believe it, but how am I supposed to ignore all the evidence spread out in front of me?
There’s nothing to prove this is even an actual conversation they had, or that it hasn’t been heavily doctored to make me jump to conclusions.
But the part of me that’s terrified of being abandoned screams at me to run. To break them before they can break me.
It’s a thought that would have my therapist shaking her head, but that doesn’t make it any less loud as my eyes dart around the room.
A room that was made just for me, that they decorated with all my favorite things in mind.
How can I believe that they were only ever in this to ruin my grandfather?
I press my eyes closed and force steadying breaths into my lungs. I knew reading this file would stir doubts in my mind, because that’s exactly what it was curated to do.
My analytical mind can see where there are things missing, pages that should have been included if whoever put it together did so to give me the unbiased truth. But that’s not what they had in mind. They had my fear of being left behind front and center when they collated these documents, and by sitting up here alone, I’m playing right into their hands.
