Chapter 64

ASHER

I should be lying next to her—that’s the gentlemanly thing to do. But that would make it all too personal. I sit up instead, ignoring her need for comfort, and start to get dressed.

I have unfinished business; I need to talk to my father. I also have to return his key fob. So, I dress while she lies there, still as a statue.

Her breathing is steady, making me wonder if she’s asleep. But she’s not; she’s watching me, her eyes tracking my every move. I can’t help but wonder what she’s thinking.

Does she think I’m a jerk for not lying with her after we just had sex and shared an emotional connection? But pondering won’t help; I’ve learned to live my life without second-guessing every action.

I grab my phone and dial my father’s number as I pull a T-shirt over my head. My ribs ache—a painful reminder of the recent events. I need his help; I can’t continue like this.

I have to follow through with what I started a few hours ago. I have to open up and ask for help. I hope he hasn’t left yet and I can catch him before he does.

The dial tone barely has time to register before it’s replaced by his voice. “Asher,” he answers almost immediately.

“Where are you?” I ask.

“In my office with the firefighters. Where did you go?” He sounds distracted as he asks.

“I’m in my apartment. Don’t leave until I come down, okay?”

There’s a pause, a long stretch of silence. I wonder if he suspects something’s wrong. But he agrees, albeit reluctantly.

“Sure, I’ll be in my office. You know where to find me,” he says before hanging up.

I do know where to find him; I always have. But I’ve never sought him out because of my pride—pride that he instilled in me, that he nurtured.

I’ve always wanted to be as successful as him, but I lack the drive. I’m too laid back, too indifferent. Maddison is watching me, her hand resting on her lower stomach.

Something feels off. Her eyes reflect pain, but her body is relaxed, almost sleepy.

“You okay?” I ask, climbing onto the bed next to her.

My hand reaches out to touch her wet cheeks. She’s been crying. Did I hurt her?

“I’m fine,” she says, pushing me away and turning her face from me. She stares out the window, the night sky reflecting off the glass.

I watch a tear roll down her cheek, over her lips. “I’m not good at this, Maddison. I’m a hit-and-run kind of guy…” I try to explain.

“I didn’t expect anything more,” she mumbles.

“Then why are you crying?” I ask.

“It’s nothing,” she whispers.

“But it is…”

“Go to your father, Asher. Don’t waste your time trying to get blood from a stone,” she snaps.

Everything in me says I should stay, that maybe she needs comfort after sex. That maybe she needs me to be a real man, not the kind who keeps women at a distance to avoid emotional attachment.

But I do what I always do—I run because it’s easier. Staying would only complicate things. Besides, she’ll go back to him. I have a gut feeling about it.

“I’ll bring back dinner. Don’t bother cooking,” I tell her before leaving. I glance back at the door one last time. She’s curled up in the fetal position.

~You should stay…~ But I don’t. I close the bedroom door softly behind me. The others must be asleep; the apartment is quiet.

I’m grateful for that. No need for lies or made-up stories about what just happened in my bedroom. I can leave without any consequences.

So I do, walking out into the damp hallway and taking the elevator down. And once again, I find myself standing in front of my father’s office.

This time, the doors are open. Both my fathers, Zach and Tyler, are inside, talking to authorities and giving instructions to dry the carpets.

I’m standing there, just watching them. They’re being the businessmen they’ve always been, and I’m just waiting. I’ve been waiting for what feels like forever, for my chance to speak my truth, to ask for help.

The firefighters provide a convenient excuse for my lingering presence. Then, my father’s phone calls serve as my next distraction.

Eventually, they both sit down, looking worn out and expectant, and I can’t help but wonder what they’re waiting for. Could it be my mother they’re waiting for?

Or maybe they’re waiting for Callum to investigate whether the fire was intentional. Or perhaps they’re just taking a breather after a long night.

One of them would usually be home in bed with my mother by now. Then it hits me. They’re waiting for me.

They have no other reason to be here, no work to do, no jobs to take on. Caterina has been buzzing around for a while now, making sure the staff is okay and the clients are satisfied.

Yes, my fathers are waiting for me, just as I had asked them to, and Zach too. I muster up my courage, remembering what’s at stake, what Jonathon did, and the suspicious timing of the fire.

I think about the money I’ve squandered, the girls upstairs with no end in sight. Then I think about my family and the potential disaster that could befall them because of my choices.

And I just know. Every fiber of my being is telling me to walk, to knock on the door, to hold my head high and confess. After all, they are my parents.

Above everything else, they’ll help me, no matter what. I clear my throat, step out from the shadows of the hallway, and knock on the door.

Their eyes meet mine. Zach’s gaze is calculating, while Tyler’s is filled with worry at the sight of me. Well, that’s a fucking first.