by Olivia Chase
“Shh.” She strokes my hair and holds me. “Shh. I know. I know.”
“He doesn’t want to change. He doesn’t want to talk. He’s so stubborn.” A sob bubbles out of my chest, and I cry on her shoulder.
“That boy is a moron,” Mom says in a heated voice. “But I guarantee he’s not so stupid that he doesn’t know what he’s giving up. You’re going to go to school, and you’re going to accomplish so much, sweetie.”
I blink the wetness from my eyes and look at her. “Are you going to be okay? While I’m gone?”
She wipes the tears from my cheeks. “Of course I will. I’m just so proud of you. I wish we could do more to help you out.” She squeezes my shoulder. “Go take a bath. Try to relax. Not too long now until the holidays are over and you’re starting school.”
I want to enjoy the realization that I’m so close to fulfilling my dreams, but I can’t. Not when my heart is aching so hard.
Part of me wishes Asher had never hunted me down. Part of me wishes I’d never let him back into my life.
The biggest part of me wishes Asher hadn’t broken my heart.
The next three weeks pass fast, shockingly so. Between packing my belongings, trips to campus to meet my new boss for my work study and my roommate for spring semester, and sorting out my class schedule, I’m busy as hell.
Not to mention shopping for Christmas. I try my best to get myself into the holiday spirit. I listen to my favorite songs, drive around with Rylie to check out the house decorations. By tacit agreement, she and I don’t talk about Asher at all. Thank God, because even just thinking about him makes my chest ache.
Mom and I decorate the Christmas tree. Dad continues to search for jobs, with a couple of promising leads in the next town over. The commute wouldn’t be that bad.
I’m upstairs in my room, getting ready to hang out with Rylie and Devon. Her family is having their annual holiday party, which is always a good time. It’ll be good for me to be around other people, relaxing a little.
My big move is coming up soon. Very soon. And since I’m planning to stay near campus during the summer and not move back home, this is my last hurrah in Rock Bridge.
I slip on a soft sweater over my tank top, do one last fluff of my hair, then grab my coat, keys, and presents and head out the door. It’s the day before Christmas Eve. The holidays are upon us in full force.
My heater cranks hard as I drive to their family’s house. Rylie and Devon don’t live with their parents anymore, but since their house is the biggest, they hold all the parties there. A Christmas song comes on and brings back a memory of me singing it to Asher in a chipmunk voice back in high school.
I snap the radio off.
The street in front of the house is pretty full, so I have to park the next block over. I wrap my coat tighter around me to ward off the sheer coldness. The temperature has dropped drastically over the last few days. Winter is hitting us hard now. I think I even saw that we’re supposed to get some flurries tomorrow.
A white Christmas.
I juggle bags and hustle to the front door. When it opens, Rylie is standing there in the ugliest Christmas sweater I’ve ever seen. She tries to outdo herself every Christmas, finding the most heinous sweater in existence. “You made it!” she says, giving me a hug. She eyes the presents. “And you brought gifts! Oh, you shouldn’t have.”
I roll my eyes and thrust the bags at her. “Just take them, stinker.” I shimmy out of my coat and hang it in the closet.
Rylie puts the bags under the tree, then hands a small present to me. “Stick this in your coat pocket so you don’t forget.” I do as she says then turn back around to find her eyes filled with concern. “You doing okay?”
It’s the closest she and I have gotten to talking about Asher. I shrug. “Not yet, but I will be.” I have to. I have no other choice.
“Some of his friends are gonna be here,” she tells me in a warning tone. “Mom went nuts inviting people this year—I think half the damn town is going to be present. Just wanted to let you know.”
“It’s fine,” I say in a breezy tone. “I don’t care.” I’ll keep telling myself that until it’s true.
I head over to the punch bowl and get a cupful. Mingle from group to group, saying hi to Rylie’s parents. The music is festive, the tree is brilliant, and the house is decorated in the holiday spirit.
Despite my lingering sadness, I find myself getting caught up in the fun, singing along with Rylie to Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Devon jumps in at the end, slipping between the two of us and belting it out.
When we finish, the people around us clap loudly. We all three bow and wave, then move away with a laugh.
“I think we should take this act on the road,” Devon says. Unlike his sister, he’s wearing a nice dark blue sweater that brings out the color of his eyes, paired with well-fitting jeans. “So, are you all ready to go?” He gives me a smile filled with warmth.
I nod. “Well, mostly. I have a few things still to pack, but I’ll be ready to go. It’ll be good for me.”
“We’re gonna miss you.” He leans over and gives me a hug. “And I’m sorry about what happened. I heard from Rylie. You okay?”
“I’m…working on it.” I offer a weak smile. Shrug. “That’s life, right?” I sip my punch, and we stand in silence for a few minutes. “So, you ready to get back to classes?”
“Hell no.” Devon chuckles, and I join him. “But it’ll be fine. Every semester gets me closer to graduation.” Devon’s going to school to be a veterinarian. Given how good he is with animals, it’s the perfect choice for him. He’s taken on extra classes each semester to help him finish faster.
There’s a loud whooping sound near the piano, and a group of people burst into cheers and chanting. Devon and I peer above the heads of the group to see what’s going on.
Through a break in the crowd, I see a heartbreakingly familiar face and my chest gives a small kick. Asher is chugging a beer and then he thrusts his empty can in the air in victory. The women in the crowd are clapping like crazy.
I’ve never seen him this way before, drunk and wild. He reminds me of his brothers with the heavy partying. Asher was always the mildest of the three. Looks like he’s turned wilder than any of them.
“I didn’t know he was going to be here,” Devon says to me. “Sorry. My parents didn’t know about everything or else they wouldn’t have done that. Wanna move to another room?”
I nod. I can’t sit here and watch this.
Devon and I push through people, and I feel a prickling sensation on the back of my neck, then turn my head and connect eyes with Asher. He’s stopped, staring at me. His gaze flicks to Devon, and a wry smile spread across his face that doesn’t reach his eyes. He gives a mirthless laugh and turns his attention to one of the girls in the crowd.
I just look away. Doesn’t matter anymore what he thinks—it’s obvious he believes I’m dating Devon from the flare of emotion in his eyes.
It’s clear to me that I’m making the right choice, going to school, breaking from Rock Bridge. I can’t live here and chance running into him. Not while I still feel so raw. Not while my heart keeps hoping he’ll come over and talk to me, tell me he made a mistake, beg me to take him back.
Not going to happen. Asher’s far too stubborn for that. Stubborn and set in his ways. Besides, we’re moving in different directions.
The best way to get over him is to have a fresh start. College is going to give me that chance. Now to make that point clear to my stupid heart.
Asher
My head feels like it was kicked in by a mule.
I groan and roll over onto my side, trying my best to move as little as possible. This hangover is particularly brutal. And to make matters worse, it’s Christmas Eve—and Jax and Brooklyn are getting married today.
Fuck. I have got to get up and moving, but all I want to do is stay in bed and maybe die here. I feel like total shit.
My fault for drinking like a mo
ron at the Christmas party last night. But when I happened to see Whitney standing there with Devon, her looking beautiful and radiant and not mine, I kind of lost my mind and I needed to drown the feelings threatening to take over.
So I chugged beer. And then I had some shots. And then more beer. Thankfully, I hitched a ride with someone, so they dropped me off late last night and I crawled into bed, still wearing my clothes.
I peek one eye open, then the other. Pale gray morning light fills my room. I slowly sit up, breathing deeply as the room spins for a moment, and grip the side of the bed. Fuck. Maybe I overdid it a bit last night.
Yeah, just a bit. I snort quietly.
A hard knock on my door echoes in my head.
“Ugh, I’m up,” I grumble.
The door opens, and Jax peeks in. When he sees me, his eyes fill with irritation. “Fuck, seriously? What the hell, Asher? You look like ass.”
“I feel like it, too.” I stand up and try to stretch. “Nothing some coffee, Tylenol, and a hot shower can’t fix. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure you think this is fine, whatever the fuck is going on with you, but you’re a fucking total mess,” Jax declares. He comes into my room and slams the door shut behind him. “Lately you’re always drunk and you’re partying all the time. This isn’t you, man. What is this, you lashing out for all the shit in your life? You pissed off because Mom came back?” He pauses. “Or maybe you screwed up with Whitney and you can’t handle it.”
“Fuck you,” I breathe, unable to put much heat in the words. My chest hurts from his accusations. They’re all spot on. Fucking bastard.
“Bro, you need to pull it together. I’ve been where you are, and the answer isn’t at the bottom of the bottle. I almost lost Brooklyn because of being an idiot. Wake up—it’s not too late for you to straighten shit out.” Jax shakes his head. “And you’d better not mess up this day for us, because Brooklyn is already anxious and stressed. If you make my baby upset, I’ll rip your balls off.”
I hold up my hands. “Whoa, calm down. I haven’t even done anything and you’re jumping on me.”
“Yeah, you haven’t done anything,” he retorts. “Nothing but act like a deadbeat idiot who can’t deal with his own shit.” The look of disgust and disappointment in his eyes hits me hard, and I glance away, shame burning my cheeks. I can’t stand to see what he thinks of me. And God knows Smith is going to look the exact same way when I see him later. “Pull it together and be ready to go in an hour.” He turns and leaves, closing the door behind him.
I sit back down on the edge of the bed and stare at the floor. All these weeks, I’ve been running from the reality of my life. Unable to face the stress and pressure of my mom returning, of my breakup with Whitney. I’m even kind of missing college and my classes, how I felt making progress toward something. But every day is the fucking same thing now—wake up, work, drink, sleep. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
I’m tired. So tired.
My suit is laying on the bottom of my closet floor. Fuck. I forgot to get it dry cleaned. Well, it’ll have to do. I hop in the shower, scrub away the cobwebs from my brain. When I emerge, I feel cleaner and a little less shitty. At least from the hangover.
I put on my suit pants and dress shirt and head to the kitchen to pour the world’s biggest coffee. Remembering Whitney in here with me just makes that hole in my chest grow bigger. She’s everywhere I go—her fucking imprint is scarred on my skin.
Look at what a mess you are, I tell myself. Cutting her loose was the best thing I could have done for her. And now she’s off being happy without me. Probably Devon is thanking his lucky stars that she’s free and he can move back in on her again.
Not my concern anymore. I gave her up, and any short-term pain is worth the long-term benefit of her following her dreams, going to school, leaving Rock Bridge behind.
Brooklyn walks in, a robe wrapped around her, her belly large and pressed against the front fabric. Her hair is pulled into a soft twist, and her makeup is already done. She waddles toward me with a smile, holding her stomach. “God, this baby is being wild today. Definitely a Beckett,” she says. When she gets right beside me, her smile fades, and she frowns. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “Totally fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“Thanks, Brooklyn.” I give her a crooked smirk. “Way to make a guy feel good about himself.”
She laughs and swats my arm. “You know what I mean. You just…” Her lips press together as she scrutinizes me. “I worry about you, Asher. You’ve had a lot of big changes recently. That has to be weighing on you.”
“Is she going to be there?”
Brooklyn nods. She knows who I mean without me having to spell it out. “Your brothers want her to start feeling like part of the family.”
I’ve seen Mom a couple of times since her first reappearance, but I can’t seem to make myself go up and talk to her. Every time I even think about it, all I can remember is how my entire life has passed without her being around, and I fill up with anger. “Well, we wouldn’t want to upset her,” I say evenly.
Brooklyn’s mouth wavers a little, and she glances down.
Fuck. I reach over and cup her shoulder. “Sorry. Don’t listen to me. I’m an idiot. It’s your special day, and you shouldn’t have to worry about a thing. Just tell me what you need from me, okay?”
Her nod is small. Guilt chews at my gut. Jax will murder me if he finds out I upset her.
“I promise I won’t lose the wedding rings,” I add, hoping to coax a smile out of her. When Smith and Aubrey got married, Jax was in charge of the rings, and from what I heard back in the fall—which apparently Smith still doesn’t know about—Jax lost them and had to replace them. Brooklyn was recruited to help him.
My reference to their first adventure together does the job. She laughs, and the tension eases from her face. “Oh, I trust you. I’m not worried about that.” She leans in and whispers, “But just in case, I wear a size six, and we got the rings at Taylor’s Jewelers. They know what we bought.”
I smile at her, the first genuine smile I’ve had in what seems like days. “Thanks for the tip. Mrs. Beckett.”
“Oh, God.” Her cheeks turn pink. “I’m about to be a married woman. I can’t believe the day has come.” She reaches her hands up to touch her face. “Do I look okay?”
I take her hands in mine and squeeze. “You look amazing. Jax is going to fall more in love with you than he ever did.”
She gives me a big hug, and I feel the baby kick against my belly. She pulls back with a laugh and strokes her belly. “Sorry, Uncle Asher. Someone’s excited to be coming out soon. The day can’t get here quickly enough.”
“I’m excited to meet him. I hope you’re still considering the name Asher. I think it’s regal and perfect.” I’ve tried on and off all autumn to get her to name the baby after me. Despite me using the Beckett charm on her, I don’t think it’s working.
She rolls her eyes. “You know, Smith said the same thing. You boys are all alike. God help me when I bring another of you boys into the world.”
I chug my coffee, my chest feeling a little bit lighter. I managed to do something good, to help her feel better on a day when she has every right to be stressed. Maybe I’m not a colossal fuck-up after all. At least, not a completely hopeless one.
Jax emerges from his bedroom, his suit fitted to perfection. When Brooklyn sees him, her eyes go soft, and she gasps.
“Oh God, you look so ridiculously hot,” she tells him.
I roll my eyes. “All you’re doing is making my brother’s ego bigger.”
“Shut up, ass,” Jax says as he stops and assumes a male model pose. “If the woman thinks I’m hot, she should make sure to tell me. As often as possible.”
“We’re never going to fit your head in the car,” Brooklyn says with a laugh.
Jax leers at her. “Oh, I’ll fit my head in your—”
“Jax!” Brooklyn squeals.
> “Don’t worry. Asher knows all about where babies come from. I drew him pictures.” Jax cackles.
“Even as a kid, I suspected dicks weren’t actually that big,” I say grinning.
“I can’t imagine what you boys were like growing up.” She shakes her head and rubs her belly again. “Your dad must have been a saint.”
We gather our things and are quiet as we head to our respective cars. As I drive to the church, I’m thinking about Dad. What he would have thought, seeing two of his sons married and a grandson on the way. If he hadn’t gotten sick and died, he could have seen Mom after she was paroled, too. What would have happened between them?
Would he have been able to forgive her, embrace her? Welcome her back into his heart, his life?
Seems like he would’ve, given that he kept in touch with her until he died.
I guess it makes sense now why Dad never dated anyone else. All this time I thought he was grieving a dead woman. He must have been holding a space for when she returned to him. And he kept on writing her faithfully, regularly. Mom said that Dad would fill her in on the crazy things we did growing up. He sent her pictures of us, which Smith said she carries with her even now.
She’s going to be at the wedding, forcing me to be around her.
The snow is coming down, and the roads are a little slick. I turn my focus to driving. Last thing I need is to do donuts on the road or hit a side rail. My brothers would murder me for being late to the wedding, no matter the reason.
I arrive at the church, which is decorated on the outside with Christmas décor. Inside, soft piano music is playing, and white flowers fill the space with their strong scent. Jax and Brooklyn aren’t religious, but the pastor of this church was a friend of Dad’s, go figure. My dad made friends with everyone. When the pastor found out they were getting married, he offered the space up for free, saying Dad would have wanted him to do it.
I check my pocket to make sure the ring box is in there—it is. Killing time before the ceremony starts, I mingle with friends and family in the lobby. Though I’m on edge waiting for Mom to show up, I try to shove that anxiety aside and focus on not making today about me. It’s about Jax and Brooklyn.