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She chuckles darkly. “Yeah, I didn’t think you’d get it. Trent said you can be a bit stubborn. So, I did some digging of my own.”
“Digging?”
“Oh, yeah. You wouldn’t believe the kind of stuff I can find.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a file, handing it to me. “Go ahead. Read it.”
The file isn’t thick, but the stuff inside it is damning. Everything I’ve been through is in my hands, from my report cards to a copy of the actual statement I gave to police after the incident with my uncle. She even has the documents from the rape kit exam from the hospital. All the noted vaginal tears stare back at me. I’m going to throw up.
“Yeah. That one was even hard for me to read.”
I close the folder and toss it onto the coffee table. “So, I have a fucked-up past. Do you want a play by play of my shitty childhood, too?”
She scrunches her brows. “No, I’ve got all that, too. Your childhood therapist wrote very detailed notes. I just didn’t want to take the time to print it. Waste of paper and all that.”
“Why don’t you just tell me what you want?”
“Isn’t it obvious? You’re no good for Asher.”
My eyes roll. “Last time I checked, that’s not for you to decide.”
She tilts her head side to side. “Maybe not, but consider this. What are people going to think when they realize their favorite quarterback is dating his student, and one with as much emotional baggage as you come with? For all they know, he could be taking advantage of you.”
“That’s fucking bullshit.”
Shrugging, she checks out her nails. “I’ve been in this business a long time, and protecting the image of my clients is my job. I’m just telling you what I know and what would be best for everyone involved.”
“And if I don’t listen?”
Her gaze meets mine and her lips pucker. “Then everyone will find out everything, and you and Asher will have to live through the whole world knowing all the horrid things you’ve been through. You think what’s in that folder is a lot?”
She gestures to the coffee table.
“That’s just what I found in a five-minute search. H
is fans are like the FBI. Every picture of you that’s ever existed will be dug up, dusted off, and put on display for the whole world to see. Not to mention Asher will be publicly scrutinized. They’ll call him a pervert and other names that will make him question if he was ever a good person. And he’ll lose everything he’s worked his whole life for, all for some broken eighteen-year-old girl whose own uncle disliked enough to want her dead. But don’t worry, he probably won’t resent you right away. It’ll take some time.”
My chest tightens so much it becomes hard to breath. She just threw the truth in my face, and now I’m trying not to choke on it. I do my best to hold it in, but I don’t stand a chance. My eyes start to water and a stray tear leaks out.
“I know it’s hard to hear, hun, but let’s be honest—Asher is better off without you.”
Getting up, I go into the laundry room and grab two duffel bags. Then, I go into the room we’ve shared together the past month. I toss everything I own into them until there’s nothing left. I struggle to carry them both but I manage to get them over to the elevator.
Shit, my phone.
I walk over to the couch and grab it off the cushion. Just before I walk away, Blaire grabs my wrist.
“You’re doing the right thing, Tessa.”
Ripping myself from her grasp, I level her with a look. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
She doesn’t say another word as I drag my bags into the elevator and hit the button to go down. I sag against the back wall, trying to stay calm. Everything she said was right. I’d only going to drag him down and make him lose everything. But still, that doesn’t make it any easier to hear.
As soon as I reach the bottom, I’m reminded that I don’t have a car anymore. And with the things running through my head, there’s only one person I can think to call.
My phone vibrating on my lap brings my attention back to the present. Asher’s name and the picture of the two of us from Saturday night appears on the screen. It takes everything I have not to answer. He’s better off without you. I sigh as I hit ignore and flip the phone over so I’m not tempted to call him back.
“Tess,” Easton says softly, and I turn to look at him. “We’re here.”
I hadn’t even realized the car came to a stop, too lost in my own thoughts. It’s a cute house, and a part of me is surprised he and Zayn can afford the rent for this place. It’s not too big, but being so close to campus, it’s practically prime real estate.
