Page 72 of Addiction

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“I’m not sure. It just means something is on his mind.”

Anxiety hits me right in the chest, a force so great it’s like Asher has physically hit me himself. What if I’ve driven him there, to whatever place his head has taken him?

What if all of this is because of me and my stupid feelings, letting my guard down and showing him that I want him and knowing full well that Asher is yet to get his head around so much more.

I can’t let that happen.

I need to talk to him.

Stepping out of my treatment room, I lean against the wall, watching him in the boxing area as Mark entertains new and current guests in the reception.

Thick bandages are wrapped around his fists as he punches hard. His body is covered in sweat as he dips and dives. He’s focused and controlled yet somehow not in control at all.

The minutes tick by, and with each one, I’m more captivated than the last. The strength in his body is powerful, the low grunts that leave the back of his throat with each hit are almost sexual. When he finally hugs the bag to stop it from swinging, I slowly make my way over to him, eager to talk yet apprehensive all the same.

“Do you feel better?” I ask.

He lets out a heavy gasp after finishing his water, turning his head toward me yet still avoiding my eyes. “For now.”

“You sure give that bag hell.”

He wipes the towel over his face, and I take the opportunity to step closer. The proximity has heat racing through me because I’ve not been this close to him since the other night, but when he drops the towel my approach causes him to jolt back.

The ache I feel in my stomach is like I’ve been kicked full force, and I suddenly feel at a loss. I don’t know what to do to get us back to where we once were.

“Asher. Listen.”

“I need to shower. I’ve still got work to do.”

“Asher, we should talk about the other—”

“I’m busy.”

I step in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. His body tenses and I hate the barrier he’s suddenly put between us. “Please. You can’t run away from this.”

“I’m not running, Wade. I’m working. There’s a difference.”

“Talk to me. Stop treating me like I’m the one in the wrong here. It’s not my fault your head is all over the place.”

“Isn’t it?” His eyes, stormy and dark, tell me that I am that very reason.

It’s something I shouldn’t feel guilty for, but I do when it comes to him. But in the next breath, I’m not feeling guilty at all because I know. I’d known all that time ago when he’d been in my apartment, looking into my eyes with such desperation. I’d known then what he’d been thinking—what he’d been running from and what he is still running from.

“Asher…”

“I’ve got work to do.”

“Hey, you two,” Mark shouts. “Work drinks later at Hot Tuna. I want to celebrate our first couple weeks of success.”

“Count us in,” I say over my shoulder.

As Asher goes to leave, I press my hand against his chest, stopping him from passing. His eyes hold mine, but I make my words clear letting him know there’s no escape from this, no matter how hard he tries. “Running from who you are won’t change who you are. It’ll only make it harder to voice. Don’t run from something you know won’t go away.”

“Save your TED talks for someone else, Wade. You know nothing.”

With that, he heads up to his office without looking back, slamming the door behind him.