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Leaning back, I rest against the couch cushions. It's fairly dark in here, only the corner lamp on from the movie. I could happily fall asleep on the couch, full of pizza. It was delicious and definitely needed after a weird few weeks. It made me think of mom and Gareth, and our family dinner. I wonder how the ranch is, and if mom is happy.
I'm happy thatshe'shappy. But, I guess she hasn't paid much attention to realizeIhaven't been happy in a long time.
Losing dad was the hardest thing I ever had to go through. He understood me on levels that mom just didn't quite get. Dad was laid-back like me, always happy to go with the flow and a bit of a loner. He was never one to follow the herd, whereas mom loved the comfort and security that came with the predictability of doing so. They were yin and yang, but they loved each other.
I know it sounds horrible, but I envy mom. She's happy again – married with a second chance. And as much as I like Gareth, the harsh reality for me is I will never have another dad. Mom gets another husband to help heal her, but I'm left to pick up the pieces.
"What are you thinking about?" Asher asks, watching me closely.
I realize I have zoned out, giving him a sad smile. "My dad."
"You don't talk about him much," he points out.
Shrugging, I reach for my beer. "It still hurts. And if I'm honest, I think it will hurt forever."
"I get it," Asher says, grabbing my beer and taking a swig. "My mom died when I was young."
I hate that we have that in common with each other. People shouldn't be bonded by trauma, in fact, no one should have to struggle with it.
"I'm sorry," I murmur, grabbing his hand. "How did she pass?"
Asher sighs. "Heart attack. Very sudden and unexpected. She was so young too. It never made any sense to me. Still doesn't."
I nod, feeling his hand squeeze back. "Dad died unexpectedly too."
"How?" Asher asks softly.
"Car accident. Drunk driver."
Asher squeezes again, threading our fingers. "Did they catch the driver?"
"They did," I confirm, red hot tears starting to form. "And he was remorseful. But it didn't change anything. He gets to keep living, and now I don't."
"Youareliving. Just the best way you can at the moment."
I look at Asher in choked desolation. "I was with him, you know. In the car. I survived, and he didn't. And it kills me every day."
Asher frowns as his mouth drops open slightly. "You were in the accident? I didn't know."
"Yeah. We were on our way to pick up mom. It was nice. We were having a jam session in the car, blasting tunes and singing. It was my idea and I've always held onto the thought that maybe if I had turned the music down, dad would have heard and seen the other car run the red light."
"Hey," Asher says firmly, "You cannot hold onto that guilt. It doesn't belong to you. You did nothing wrong. You're a victim. Letting someone else's fuck up live in your mind will only hurt you."
I laugh dryly. "I'm already ruined, Asher. Can't you tell?"
"You're not ruined. You're perfect."
I'm not sure I heard him correctly, my eyes widening slightly at the admission. Maybe the beer has affected me more than I realize.
Asher lets go of my hand, putting his beer down. I watch, frozen as he hovers over me on the couch, his grey eyes searching my face. I don't know what he's looking for, or if he will find it. But he's searching, his face softening as he leans closer.
"I think you're beautiful, Rylee. Always have, always will."
His lips press into mine and I'm momentarily stunned. There's no victory or proof giving, no holy taste test… just the two of us, here in this moment.
The initial shock wears off, and I kiss him back, my hand grabbing the back of his neck as I hold him in place. His tongue flicks at my lips, asking for entrance which I grant, meeting his with my own. Little moans get caught in my throat as our tongues battle. He tastes so good - a mixture of beer, pizza andpure Asher.
Asher curls an arm under my back, lifting me up so I'm sitting more upright. His hand caresses my thigh, gently stroking my leg as his other hand curls in my hair. He's being gentle but firm, and I'm desperate for more. I'm desperate to prove I won't break and that I'm more than the mess everyone thinks I am.
