I kneeled there in the restroom, vomiting until I was empty and out of tears to cry. I heard people come and go, but the memory of Asher’s confession was my only consistent company.
I was racing.
I knew three words would have the power to change our relationship.
I just hadn’t expected it to be those three.
SCARLETT
I slept at the hospital that night. I didn’t see Asher again, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave while he was there, so I curled up in the waiting area instead.
After a futile attempt to convince me to go home, Vincent convinced one of the nurses (a huge Blackcastle fan) to let me grab a few hours of rest on the staff break room’s sofa instead.
I left the next morning for work, but I made Vincent promise to update me if there were any changes to Asher’s condition.
Thankfully, there weren’t.
The hospital discharged him four days after the crash. In that time, the tabloids had a bloody field day. Details about his race trickled out in bits and pieces at first, then suddenly turned into a deluge.
Asher had allegedly been racing against Enzo Bocci, Holchester’s captain. The articles used “allegedly” because there was no concrete proof they were racing. The circumstances pointed to a race, but no witnesses came forward to corroborate the suspicion, and no cameras caught them in the act.
However, several people spotted Asher and Bocci arguing at the Angry Boar a few hours before the crash, and Bocci was apparently being investigated for his role in Asher’s accident. He was suspended until the investigation was complete. Due to his injuries, Asher was also officially out of the game for at least the next three weeks.
The world of football was in tumult, but it didn’t compare to my inner chaos.
It was Monday, exactly nine days since the crash and five days since Asher left the hospital. I hadn’t seen or talked to him since I visited him that first night. I suspected he was trying to give me space like I’d asked. I appreciated it because I wouldn’t know what to say if I saw him; at the same time, enduring his absence was like being starved of air.
So, instead of dwelling on the dull pain in my chest, I threw myself into work. Nothing repressed important feelings like a packed schedule and a class full of students.
Unfortunately, every workday had to end.
“Excellent job, everyone.” My smile stretched like plastic across my face as my students packed up their belongings. “I’ll see you on Wednesday for our next lesson.”
I didn’t say what I really wanted to say. Stay. Don’t leave me with myself.
Their company provided a sanctuary from my emotions, but they were my last class of the day, and I couldn’t hold them. I could only watch as they trickled out of the studio and took my hopes of distraction with them-all of them, that was, except for one.
“Ms. DuBois, are you okay?” Emma asked. She was always the first to show up and the last to leave. She was also shockingly observant for a seventeen-year-old. “You look a little pale. I can get the nurse if you’re not feeling well.”
“No.” I forced a smile. “It’s been a long day, that’s all. Don’t worry about me. Go enjoy your evening.”
Instead of leaving, she lingered, her expression conflicted.
I paused wiping down the barre. “Is there something you’d like to discuss?”
“Well, I don’t want to push you or anything, but I was wondering if you’ll be able to attend the student showcase after all,” she said shyly. “My parents wanted to save a seat for you next to them if you do come. They’re really grateful for all that you’ve done for me. I never would’ve gotten the role without your guidance.”
Guilt squeezed my lungs.
I didn’t want to crush her hopes, but between the press and Asher, I’d reached the end of my emotional rope. I didn’t have enough left in me to deal with my complicated feelings toward Westbury.
“I’m sorry, Emma.” I let her down as gently as possible. “I won’t be able to attend opening night. I have a…prior commitment, but I’ll make sure to watch the replay.”
Her face fell for a second before she smoothed it with a valiant smile. “I understand. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”
I watched her leave, feeling like the worst, most selfish human being in the world.
Just one more cherry on top of the shit sundae that’s my life.
The paps were even more relentless after the crash, and my parents had been blowing up my phone nonstop. My father was somewhat sheltered since he lived in Paris, but the paps had taken to harassing my mother too. She came home one day to find one of them rummaging through her rubbish bin, and she almost called the police on him before he ran away.
Between that and the accident, she was feeling much less warm and fuzzy about Asher these days.
Maybe it was karma for all the secrets I’d kept over the summer. I should’ve?-
“Hi.”
My fight or flight kicked in before my senses fully registered the unexpected voice.
I whirled around, sure I’d see another pap who’d stolen onto the grounds. They were glued to the street outside RAB’s gates like leeches to their host.
But it wasn’t a pap.
It was someone so much worse.
My heart folded in on itself. I might not know what I wanted to say to him, but after a week apart, I drank him in like a parched nomad at an oasis.
Asher’s broad shoulders and strong, sculpted frame filled the doorway. He looked handsome as ever, even with his cuts and bruises, but his face was lined with exhaustion and his eyes were missing their usual spark.
And yet, his effect was still devastating.
Seeing him in person had the same impact as being struck with a wrecking ball. It knocked the breath straight out of my lungs and smashed a huge dent in the cool, calm facade I’d spent a week cultivating.
“What are you doing here?” To my relief, my voice sounded steady-not at all like the ragged heartbeats that threatened to break out of my chest.
“I needed to see you.” Those green eyes met mine. I loved and hated how they pierced through me, like they could see straight through my shields to the vulnerable, conflicted girl underneath. “Just to make sure you’re okay.”
My heartbeat wobbled. “You’re the one who was in a car crash recently. I should be saying that to you.” But I wasn’t because I was a coward, and I’d avoided him with dogged determination since the hospital. “It’s good to see you on your feet again.”
“We both know I’m not talking about the crash.” He stepped into the studio, eradicating my attempt at a polite, informal conversation. He favored his left leg because of his ankle sprain, but he covered it up so gracefully I wouldn’t have noticed had I not been so attuned to his every movement. “We should talk.”
Every molecule in the air sparked to life.
“About what?” I stalled.
I wasn’t ready to talk. If we talked, then I’d have to confront the state of our relationship, and I’d much rather live in denial.
Limbo was better than hell.
Asher stopped less than two feet away. “About us.”
His rough, raw voice rushed over me.
As upset as I was about him breaking his promise and endangering his life, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t care about him.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.