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“Andrea,” I cut in quietly.
“Right, Andrea. You should probably reach out tomorrow. Maybe set up an appointment.”
“Yeah, I could do that.”
A few moments of silence tick by.
“But you’re not going to, are you?” His voice turns gruff. “Because you’ve already made up your mind.”
As our gazes cling in the quietness of the library, I realize he’s right. I’ve made my decision. What makes no sense is that he can read me so easily. That he knows what I’m thinking almost before I do.
“I think so. I’m leaning toward the surgery.”
His arms tighten, pulling me closer until I’m almost flattened against the steely strength of his chest. Instead of feeling suffocated by the crushing pressure, his presence only makes me feel more secure in my decision.
“You need to listen to them,” he says harshly. “They’re the experts. If they’re telling you to take a few days to think through this decision, then that’s what you should do.”
I pull away enough to meet his gaze. “Everyone is telling me I have a choice in the matter, but that’s not the way it feels. I’m Kylie’s best shot at having a normal life.” I shake my head. “How can I deny her that opportunity?”
“And what about you?”
“Me?” I blink. “What do you mean?”
“They talked to you about the short- and long-term risk factors. Have you really thought about the ramifications of giving up one of your kidneys?”
My muscles stiffen. “Of course.”
How could I not?
It’s all I’ve been able to dwell on. When I should be studying, I’m zoning out, thinking about the future. I lie awake at night with all this churning in my head. The only time I’m able to forget is when I’m with Asher.
“What if you develop a disease like diabetes or high blood pressure and it affects the functioning of your only kidney?” When I remain silent, he continues. “Do you realize there’s a natural decline in kidney function as you get older? Or that an increased amount of protein can spill into your blood because you only have one kidney functioning in place of two? Or how about the possibility of nerve damage from the surgery? Have you considered any of that?”
My heartbeat picks up tempo, pounding harshly under my breast as everything inside me stills. “You remember all that from the meeting?”
There was so much information thrown at us throughout the day that it’s all a giant slush pile in my brain. Vaguely do I recall what he just mentioned.
“No. I decided to do some research on my own in order to better understand the process and risks.”
Wait a minute…Asher Stevens has been on a fact-finding mission?
For me?
Thick emotion gathers in my throat, making it impossible to swallow.
Instead of focusing on the meaning behind his actions, I whisper, “Why are you bringing all that up?”
He gives me a penetrating look. One that would make a lesser person squirm. “Isn’t that obvious? I’m concerned about you. I want to make sure you’ve thought through the consequences of this donation. From what I’ve seen, no one is putting your interests first. Certainly not the people who should be.”
I have to blink away the moisture that pricks the backs of my eyes.
Sometimes, I don’t understand what this guy is doing to me. He’s unraveling me in the best—or worst—way possible. I’m just not sure which one it is.
When was the last time someone was concerned about me? Or focused solely on my wellbeing?
As much as I love my mother, she’s the one who requires support and needs to be tended to. Ever since Tony walked out of our lives, our relationship has been flipped around, and it’s exhausting.
What would it be like to have parents who put me first?
It’s not a question I like to think about. What I’ve learned is that hoping and wishing life would have dealt me a different hand doesn’t change what is. It just burns energy that could be directed elsewhere.
As I stare at Asher, it hits me that he wasn’t blowing smoke up my ass. His actions actually match his words. He promised to be here for me, and that’s exactly what he’s doing. My heart seizes, spasming painfully in my chest as thick emotion gathers in my throat. Even though I don’t want it to, the realization chips insistently at my crumbling walls.
I press my lips to his before whispering, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Just being you. And you’re right, I’ll take some time to think it over.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say more, to tell him everything—just how much I’m falling for him and how terrified that makes me—but in the end, I remain silent, afraid of saying too much.
Afraid of being hurt.
31
ASHER
With our hands clasped together, we stroll through the grocery store. I’m going to be perfectly honest, I’ve never been much of a shopper. That’s exactly what Instacart and Door Dash is for. You order food online and bags magically appear on the front porch.
