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“Probably because my phone’s been off since I got on the plane.” The words are soft, but she hears them. “I doubt they turned it back on when we landed.”
“I’ve noticed that. You didn’t even tell me you were coming back early.” Pulling up to the underground garage, she punches in the number, and the gate lifts. She finds a spot, but we sit for a few more minutes.
“My parents basically forced me off, telling me that I was ruining Asher’s life and to stop being selfish.” I chew on my inner lip and drop my gaze to my hands, shrugging when she turns in her seat to look at me.
“You know that’s bullshit, right?”
“It’s not, though. He has a lot to lose, and I’m . . . I’m not worth it.” This time I can’t hold the tears in, and they fall onto my hand.
“I am judging your parents very harshly right now.” Jordan reaches for my hand, and I let her take it. “Fuck your parents. You are wortheverythingto me, and more importantly, to the right person.”
“I just want to go to bed.” I wipe at my face and open the door. I know she means well and truly believes what she’s saying, but it makes me feel worse. Once upon a time, I thought Asher was it for me. My be-all and end-all. Now I understand why he walked away better than I ever could have dreamed, and I think it’s a deeper wound knowing he would burn his life to the ground for me, but I can’t let him. I’m the one who isn’t deserving of it, and it has nothing to do with him. That’s a bitter pill to swallow.
I’m protecting him from himself. Asher deserves the life he’s worked so hard for.
Jordan gets us in the elevator and in my apartment that has been cleaned since I left. I look around the space, with boring colors that were picked by my mother. There’s no part of me in here. I guess I let her erase my existence a long time ago and never noticed. I’m twenty-three and don’t even know who I am. My entire life I wasthat Cushings kid,never given my own identity, except to Marcus and Asher. When people look at me, they see dollar signs or a way to my parents. Once they find out my parents don’t give a shit, they bounce.
Jordan’s hand rubs my back, and I walk deeper into my apartment. I’m betting it won’t be much longer that my parents pay for it. I’ll have to move out and get a job. Oh well. I guess it’s time to grow up, right?
What the hell would I even do? Do I even have any marketable skills? No.
With a sigh, I head to my bedroom and drop down onto my bed. I should shower. I haven’t since I got back. When we got back to LA, the numbness had taken over, and doing what they wanted was easier than fighting, so I took the damn shower that Mother demanded, but I haven’t taken one since. Jordan comes to stand in front of me, wrapping her arms around me until my face is pressed against her chest. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve hugged her in the five years I’ve known her, not because she doesn’t offer them, but because I don’t allow them. It hurts to be touched when you’ve been starved of human contact for so long.
“I don’t know how to help you, but I’m here to sit in this dark place with you for as long as you need.”
My arms wrap around her waist, and I let out a sob. “I don’t want to be in the dark anymore, but I don’t know how to get out of it.”
She cups my head with one hand, rubbing my back with the other in big, comforting circles while I pour out all of the sadness and frustration and hopelessness of the last week. Until my throat is sore and my voice is hoarse. My eyes are swollen, and I’m empty. I have nothing left. What’s the point?
When I drain the last of my soul from my body, Jordan pulls the blankets back and I lay down. She pulls her boots off and climbs in with me, even though it’s noon and I know she’s not tired, she pulls me against her, and I fall asleep.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
Asher
For a few days, I was told not to step foot outside of my house since I’m supposed to still be in treatment. For a week I’ve done nothing but pace and workout to the point of exhaustion. I’m not eating like I should be, drinking way more than I should, and passing out in the living room instead of going to bed.
Minicamp starts in a week for the team, so I need to get my shit together, but without Eli, I just don’t care. Nothing matters. The team wants to fire me? Fine. Go ahead. At least then, I’ll be able to go find him. Does he think this is better? That I’m better off without him? He’s wrong. His parents are wrong. I can’t breathe without him.
While I’m dripping in sweat in the gym with the news on silent and music blasting in my AirPods, Franklin shows up. I finish my set with the leg press before I pull my earbud out and chug water.
“What?” I holler at the impeccably dressed man watching me from the doorway.
“Are you ready for camp? The team is waiting on you.” He slides his hands in his pockets, not taking his eyes from me like he’s waiting for me to attack.
“I’m ready.” I squirt more water into my mouth and wipe my face off with a towel.
“You look more pissed off now than when you left.” He shakes his head. “Are you sure you can handle this?”
“What the fuck do you want? Ask whatever it is you want to know, then get out of my face.” I’m done dancing around shit.
He holds my gaze, challenging me. “No more shit this year or the team is done with you. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.” I sit on the chest press machine and put my water bottle down. Franklin watches me for a minute before turning around and heading out. Images of the days I had with Eli spinning in my head until I want to scream. I need him back.
Letting the machine fall with a loud clang, Franklin jumps and turns to look over his shoulder.
“Hey.” I stand and wait for him to turn all the way around. “I’m in love with a man.”
