Chapter 110

ASHER

“Maddy, Mama left some stuff for you in the spare room. I wasn’t sure where you’d want to stay,” I say as we step into my apartment.

Truth be told, I haven’t spent much time here since everything went down.

The hardest part is the memories. The whole place is tainted with reminders of my past substance abuse, including alcohol.

My folks have made sure the staff knows not to serve me, and they’re keeping a close eye on me when I’m out, trying to stop me from scoring with the guys.

This is the first time in a couple of weeks that I’ll be sleeping here, and I can’t deny that it’s a bit unnerving.

But I’m hoping that having Maddy here will help keep my cravings at bay and distract me enough to enjoy our time together instead of battling my inner demons.

Staying sober is no joke—it’s a daily fight. Some days are easier than others, but the struggle is always there.

Emotional triggers, physical triggers, even memories can set me off. But the smell of weed is the most potent trigger for me.

“I guess we didn’t talk about that,” she says, heading toward the balcony door.

She’s barefoot now, having left her sandals at the door. She opens the door, letting in the fresh, damp scent of the rain from the storm that just passed while we were driving home.

She steps into the puddles on the marble floor as she walks to the railing, and I follow her.

I press my feet into the wet floor, molding my body to hers from behind, and wrap my arms around her waist to hold her close.

We’ve cuddled a bit over the past few months, but never like this—never so freely.

“Where do you want to sleep?” I ask her softly, needing to establish that boundary now, so I know what to expect tonight.

“With you,” she murmurs uncertainly, making my heart soar and my arms tighten around her.

I’m not sure if that’s what she really wants, or if she thinks it’s what I want.

But she’s not wrong—I do want to lie next to her, holding her, cuddling her as our breaths sync up, our bodies sharing warmth, our minds relaxing into sleep.

This is all new territory for both of us. She’s never had a life outside of abuse and exploitation, and I’ve never had a relationship that wasn’t just about sex before moving on.

Neither of us knows how to navigate this, but we both want to try. And isn’t that mutual desire to explore the possibility of us all we really need?

“Let’s just see where the night takes us. Want to cook dinner? Atty stocked the fridge for us.”

“He did? How is he?” she asks, probably trying to distract herself from the awkwardness of not knowing whether she wants to sleep with me tonight.

“Yeah, he’s been great. He’s really looking forward to getting to know you when you’re ready. Actually, everyone is,” I tell her.

She leans back into me, wrapping my arms around her like a coat, and holds onto my hands, keeping me close as she starts to sway us from side to side, looking down at the bustling nightlife below.

The sight of the city coming alive on a Friday night takes me back to the days when I used to hit the clubs and get high, rubbing up against every girl I met.

“You have a big family; that’s a lot of people to impress,” Maddy says, pulling me out of my thoughts as if she knew I was spiraling back into memories of drug use.

“There’s no need to impress anyone, Maddy. They just want to get to know the real you.”

“I guess I already know two of your parents pretty well… What food do we have? I could really go for a burger.”

“I think we have some. Let’s go raid the fridge,” I suggest, knowing that staring down at the city isn’t doing me any good right now.

She follows me as I lead her back inside, slipping her hand into mine, which feels incredible.

We head into the kitchen, and I start rummaging through the fridge. The fridge is stocked with all the makings of a good burger—beef patties, tomatoes, cheese, pickles, and coleslaw.

The bread bin on the side counter holds a stash of fresh buns.

“Go ahead and sit down, Maddy. I’ve got this,” I assure her.

She’s standing there, looking out of place in the kitchen, like it’s some foreign land she’s never navigated before.

~Does she even know how to cook?~ I find myself wondering. ~Did she miss out on that lesson growing up?~

There’s a part of me that’s itching to ask, to delve into the things she never got to learn.

Maybe we could find common ground in the process, as I pass on the wisdom my parents shared with me.

But I’m not quite brave enough to venture into that territory yet. I also don’t want to risk setting her back in her recovery.

I move with precision around the kitchen, while she perches on one of the stools, watching me.

The silence between us is thick and heavy as I prepare our meal—something I haven’t done in a while.

“Sauce?” I ask as I start to assemble her burger.

“No, thanks,” she replies, taking the plate from me and heading over to the small table and chairs.

I can’t help but smirk as I follow her, amused that she chose to sit at the table instead of the counter.

I set down my own plate and a couple of glasses. Then I turn back to fetch a jug of water.

“Bon appétit,” I say, taking my seat across from her.

She’s already started eating.