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“I’m going to get you out tonight!” I shout as the car begins to slowly move away.
Asher looks at me for just a moment. His eyes don’t tell me a damn thing. They seem completely empty. Cold. His whole body seems cold. He keeps eye contact with me a second longer, and then the car is too far away for me to see him.
I shiver, feeling completely cold and empty now that he is gone. I pull out my cell phone and arrange for a car to come pick me up. I will keep good on my promise and get everything straightened out tonight. It is all just a big misunderstanding. That’s all this is. A misunderstanding.
But I can’t shake the feeling that I should have said what I desperately tried to push down when I had the chance. Because, now that he’s gone, even if just for a few hours, I regret not saying anything. I regret not telling him my true feelings. Because you never know when you are going to lose someone and never get the chance to say those words.
I shake my head. This isn’t good-bye. And I can’t say those words, no matter how much I need to.
I couldn’t get Asher out of jail the night he was arrested. I tried everything in my power, but they wouldn’t release him. I had my attorney work on his case, and even he—someone I pay almost a million dollars in salary a year, working for days—couldn’t get him out of jail. They claim they have evidence that the truck is the same truck that was reported stolen last week. That with Asher’s prior history they won’t release him.
It’s been a week since his birthday. Since the night he was arrested.
I have spent the week staying at his place. Alone. I slept in his bed. I ate—no, mostly drank beer out of his fridge. I used his outdoor shower and toilet and actually started to enjoy it. I love every part of his shack. I love how simple he lives. And I love his place because it completely reminds me of him.
It took me a while to realize why the police weren’t going to just let Asher go. Even if it was truly a mix-up. Even with proof that I was the one who bought the truck for him. That it wasn’t stolen. His rap sheet is a million miles long. He has stolen countless cars, jewelry, money. Anything of value, and he stole it. He was in and out of jail most of his adolescence. He was once even charged with an armed robbery that would have put him away for twenty years. It was a miracle he wasn’t already in jail.
Although maybe it would have been better if he were in jail. A lot less people would have been hurt if he were in jail this whole time.
I sit in my car outside the jail, waiting for Asher to come out, so I can take him home. It’s a strange feeling. I know he didn’t steal the truck, but he easily could have. It’s been over a year since he was in jail for theft. But he could easily still be stealing and just not getting caught.
Or he could have changed.
I shake my head. He hasn’t changed. He stole me. It’s no different than stealing a car. Nothing’s changed. He’s a villain. A monster. I knew that. I just thought that maybe I could be the one to change him. That I could make him different. Better.
My fingers drum against the steering wheel as I wait. My heart beats fast, and my hands are sweaty. I’m nervous, waiting for Asher to come out. Because I’m afraid that one week has somehow changed everything. No, I know it has. I already think of him differently. Just knowing that he has gone to jail for such horrible things makes me feel differently. It reminds me of who he really is instead of the man who knows how to turn me on. How to fuck me and nothing more.
I see the door open and watch Asher walk out. He stops a second when he sees me, seemingly just as surprised to see me sitting in my car as I am at the sight of him. Because, looking at him now, I know that one week can completely change your whole world. One week can change everything.
Asher looks completely different than the man I knew who walked into the building. For one, the clothing he walked into the building with is gone. For some reason, he’s wearing shorts and an old-looking sweatshirt that is far too big on him. He starts walking again, and the hood falls down. I gasp in complete shock. His long locks are gone, exchanged for a much shorter cut. His beard has grown out longer than it ever was before. And his eye looks bruised with a cut above it.
He’s gone from a relaxed, beach-loving surfer to a hardened criminal overnight. I don’t know what happened in there, but gone is the goofy, arrogant smile, and in its place is a menacing grimace. He looks even colder than when the police arrested him.
I’m not sure if he’s going to walk to my car or not. He seems mad. I just don’t know if he’s mad at me, if he thinks I somehow set this all up, or if he is mad at the police and having to spend a week showering in front of other men and feeling afraid for his life at every second.
So, while he is walking down the sidewalk, I take the time to admire his body. I bite my lip as I take in his darker look. A look that I am just as desperate for as his surfer look.
He walks to my passenger door and opens it. He sits
down without a word to me. We look at each other, just like we did when he fucked me in the truck, just like we did when he was in the back of the police cruiser. Both of us have so much to say, but neither of us is able to say anything.
I take a deep breath and say, “You hungry?”
He narrows his eyes and nods.
I smile weakly. “I know this great little place that does great American style food just up the road, or I can take you to get something else if you prefer.”
He shrugs like he doesn’t care.
I pull out of my parking spot and start driving toward the little diner in silence.
When we get to the diner, I stop and look at Asher. “This place makes great milkshakes. I figured we could both use one.”
Asher chuckles. “A milkshake would actually be perfect.”
I let out the breath I was holding since he stepped foot in my car. I smile. “Good.”
We get out of the car, and our fingers brush against each other before Asher finally grabs hold of my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. I let out another deep exhale, but I still feel anxious.
