by Olivia Chase
Maybe coming back here was a mistake. Maybe I should have stayed at school. Because I feel worse now than I ever did before.
I head back behind the bar, grab a mug, and fill it with beer. Take a deep swig and sigh. I just need to shake this shit off. Have a little fun, relieve some stress.
That blonde is talking with a friend. I really study her. She could be a good distraction, a release of pressure. Then I think about Whitney spread out on my bed, her mouth swollen from our kisses, her body red and marred from my aggressive grip, how she begged me for more, and I know anything with this blonde would pale in comparison.
No escape for me in fucking. No escape for me in fighting. So drinking it is.
I chug the beer as fast as I can, then hold up my mug. “Fuck yeah! Let’s get some beer flowing in this place! Is this a bar or a funeral home?”
The people clustered around the bar clap and whoop with me.
“A round of shots on me!” I tell everyone, grabbing as many shot glasses as I can find and pouring well vodka. Jax would kill me if I used the good stuff, but a little goodwill toward our customers can’t be a bad thing.
Everyone takes a shot, and people are smiling, laughing. Alcohol flows through my body, loosens my limbs, takes away the lingering body ache from the fight I had on Halloween. This is what I needed.
Throughout the night, I continue to do shots and drink beer. My mind is floating, and I feel fucking good. Fuck it all. Fuck the world. Fuck responsibilities. Fuck caring. Fuck everything.
I’m a Beckett. This is how we deal with problems. We drink and we party and we don’t take any shit from anyone. I’m tired of agonizing over every damn thing in my life.
A hand thumps on the bar. It’s Rob, burly with his beard and flannel, his howling filling the bar. “Fuck yeah, Asher! Let’s do a shot together, brother!”
I grin and pour two Jameson shots for us.
Whitney
The weeks pass in a haze. My dad is back from rehab now, and he seems different. Quieter, more thoughtful. He’s started doing chores around the house to help while Mom and I are at work, and he’s scouring the ads for a new job.
Before he came home, we poured out all the alcohol in the house. He’s been drinking a lot of coffee, and he took back up smoking, something he’d quit a long time ago. But one vice at a time.
He’s also been diligent about attending AA and his outpatient therapy.
I’ve even seen him and Mom cuddling on the couch a few times. I can’t remember the last time the two of them were affectionate. Seeing the change in him makes me realize how far gone everything had gotten. It’s the whole boiling-a-frog-slowly thing…if the change in temperature is slow, a frog will sit in cold water as it slowly boils him to death.
Our family was boiling to death, and I had no idea.
When I’m not at home or at work, I’m desperately keeping busy. Anything to prevent me from thinking about Asher.
Because I haven’t heard one word from him.
Not one word in…almost a month now. Not one text. I glance at my phone for the hundred thousandth time. Nothing.
I can’t stop replaying our last time together in my head. I told him I loved him. It just came out. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I think part of me wanted to see how he’d react, to force him into doing something. Anything.
Oh, it forced his hand, all right. He’s been avoiding me. Is he still mad and needing time to sort his shit out? Or are we done for good?
I just don’t know, and I don’t have any answers. And the uncertainty is eating me alive, slowly, day by day.
Last time he went away for a year to figure it out. I can’t deal with that sort of a break again, and besides, he came back and yet he still needs more time away from me. Maybe he’s just completely flakey.
I wish I could write him off and forget, but he’s still deep under my skin. I think about him constantly.
I even dream about him sometimes.
I tug my work shirt down and head to the drinks station to get sodas for one of my tables. The marks from that one night where he did all those beautifully dirty things to me have completely faded. It’s like that night never happened. I have no proof of Asher being in my life at all, as if he never left school and moved to Rock Bridge. Never changed everything for me.
I wish I could hate him, but I can’t stop longing for him, missing the sound of his laugh, the feel of his hands on me.
I get through the rest of my work shift. A couple of coworkers have shot me concerned looks. I can feel their eyes on me. I know I’m not behaving normally. I can’t help it—it’s like my heart has been shattered, and I’m carrying around a bunch of loose pieces in my chest.
Damn you, Asher, I whisper in my head.
After my shift is done, I head to my car and drive home. There’s a bone-deep fatigue that has rooted in me. I feel like my life is spinning in place. I’m not going anywhere, and I hate it so much.
When I turn onto my street, I impulsively pull into a nearby driveway and turn around. Head my car toward Outlaws before I can change my mind. It’s been long enough—Asher needs to talk to me.
I’ve waited long enough.
I’m not going to be that broken girl I was before, just waiting on him to tell me why he ran from me. Screw that. I’m stronger now.
My heart is hammering against my chest as I navigate into the parking lot and find a spot. I drop my keys in my purse and walk into the bar. It’s crowded, with nearly every table full, even more so than the last time I was here. Outlaws is doing well—the makeover is obviously working.
The brothers must be proud of their hard work.
I see Jax running around, delivering drinks to tables with a broad smile on his face. Brooklyn is nearby with a tray of drinks and appetizers, her belly even more rounded than when I last saw her. She can’t be too far off from her delivery date now. My heart squeezes from missing everyone.
I started to feel like I was a part of them. Was I wrong, just fooling myself?
Behind the bar is Smith, slinging drinks with the efficiency of a machine. I walk up to him. “Is Asher around?”
He nods toward the back door behind him. “He’s back there working on inventory. Go ahead.”
I can hear my pulse throbbing in my ears, and my palms begin to sweat. Nervous doesn’t even describe what I’m feeling right now. Maybe this is a bad idea, I tell myself. Maybe I should just give him space.
I did give him space. A month of it. The last time I gave him space, I was sure he forgot that I existed. I can’t wait that long this time.
I push the door open and step inside. The air is cooler in here. Asher’s in the corner with a clipboard in hand, comparing what’s in boxes to what’s on the paper on the clipboard.
When he hears me, he looks up. His eyes widen for a moment, then shutter. The space between us is unapproachable. Asher’s gone away from me—I can see it right there on his face. “Whitney. What are you doing here?”
The pieces of my heart break into tiny sand-like fragments. His voice is wooden, his gaze flat. No emotion for me at all. He doesn’t even move toward me.
I’m an idiot. I can see it’s over between us now, but I need to hear the words, fool that I am. “Since you pulled another vanishing act on me, even though you promised not to do that again, I came to find out what the hell is going on.”
He gives a tiny frown, then straightens his face, his shoulders. “I’m busy. I can’t do this right now.”
“No, I suppose it’s never a good time for you. Unless you’re ready for to talk. Everything runs on Asher Beckett’s schedule.” The frustration that’s been churning in me for the past month starts to spill out. “Well, life doesn’t work that way. Sometimes you just have to deal with shit even when you don’t want to.”
He plops the clipboard on top of the box and stalks over to me. His whole body is stiff. “What do you want, Whitney?”
“I need to hear you tell me what’s going on and why yo
u’ve been avoiding me.”
He sighs heavily. “I thought we addressed it all last time we saw each other. What more do we need to say?”
“So that’s it? We’re done?” I blink in disbelief.
Seriously? Why did he come back then to find me if he was just going to dump me? Am I missing something here? I’m so confused and hurt and lost.
He finally shows a flare of emotion, his jaw tightening. “What the fuck else could possibly happen with us? We both know I’m wrong for you. You’re going off to college, anyway. We have no future. There’s nothing here for us.”
My throat tightens with unshed tears. I’m not going to cry in front of him. I’m not going to do it.
Would Asher have wanted to be with me if I weren’t going away? It doesn’t matter. Clearly whatever we had wasn’t strong enough to weather even the first sign of trouble.
Asher shakes his head. “Go, Whitney. Go off and live your life. Go enjoy college and fulfill all your dreams. Good luck to you, I mean that sincerely.” He’s looking at the floor, the wall behind me, anywhere but in my eyes.
And it hurts. God, it hurts so badly. My chest aches with deep pain. “Fine. Have it your way. Good luck to you too, Asher.”
I turn and leave. He doesn’t stop me.
I walk out of Outlaws. Get back in my car, and the tears start to flow. I sit in there and cry for a good ten minutes. Then I wipe my face and steel my spine. Drive home.
Mom and Dad are still on the couch when I walk in. When Mom sees my face, her own face falls, and she stands up and wraps me in her arms. “Oh, sweetie.”
The tears start rushing out of me again. I hug her. “I’m so stupid, Mom. I knew better, but I let myself get hurt by him again.”
“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 moron 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.