He inhales a sharp breath, then spins me around to face him. His brows are furrowed, pinching tight in the middle to create lines and his blue eyes swim with tears. “What did you just say?”
A tear escapes out of the corner of my eye, and I hold back a sob, not wanting to tell him my deepest, darkest secret that I’ve carried around for far too long.
“What did you just say?” he raises his voice and the anger vibrating the depths of his throat have me quivering, wishing I would have kept my mouth shut.
“I know,” I whisper with shame. “I know you didn’t kill Grace. I’ve always known.”
“You testified against me.” This time he hurries from the bed and stands, staring at me broken, lost, and in disbelief. “You testified, Heather,” he repeats, pressing his palms against his eyes. When he drops his hands to his sides, I can see the tip of his nose turn read and his cheeks have small droplets of them. When he stares at me, it isn’t with hate like I expected, but sadness.
Complete sadness and heartbreak. I’ve taken the joy out of the happiest man on earth and broke him.
“You knew,” he says in disbelief, running his hands through his thick hair. “I stayed in prison for six years because of that!” he roars, but this time, I don’t flinch, because I deserve this anger. I know that he has every right to be angry at me. “Why?” he chokes.
“I was angry. You were there. I know it wasn’t right—”
“You were angry? I was there?” He narrows his eyes at me and slams his fist against his chest and raises his voice, “You were angry! God…” he takes his hot chocolate mug and launches it through the air like a baseball. Brown liquid stains the wall, and the glass falls onto the floor in small, forgettable pieces. “Six years. I spent six years in a place that tested me, Heather. Six years. You don’t know how hard it was in there.”
I get to my knees and walk to him across the bed, pushing away my fears, and try to reach out for him, but he steps away from me, shaking his head. “Please,” the word is layered with emotion. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. It wasn’t right. I know that. And I shouldn’t have done what I did. I’ve regretted it every day of the last six years.”
He stays silent, unable to look at me, and places his hands on his hips.
“Asher, what are you thinking? Please, tell me.”
When he lifts his chin and hits me with teary eyes, I know that I’ve damaged his armor now. “Did you hate me that much? Am I that fucking dumb to not be able to see how much you dislike me?” He falls against the wall and buries his face in his hands.
“What? No! I never hated you—”
“—Really? You could have fooled me since you sent me off to fucking prison for six years.” The anger he has toward me has me shrinking away from him until
I hit the damp spot on the bed from when I was wet from the shower. He looks like he got struck in the face again. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m never going to hurt you. I never hurt your sister, which you know, but yet, that isn’t good enough is it? I’m just this fucking guy you don’t like because I couldn’t keep it in my pants. Well guess what? I was a single guy. I stayed single. I am allowed not to keep it in my damn pants and just because you were little miss goody goody, doesn’t mean you were better than me. It gave you no fucking right to do what you did to me. None at all. God, you are obviously nothing like I thought you were. All this time, I thought you believed I hurt her. I’m so fucking stupid. I need to get out of here.”
“Asher—” I say his name desperately, emotion gripping my heart strings like reins, but it is failing to hold me back.
He holds up his hand to stop me from saying anything else. “Just…don’t. I need time to wrap my head around this.”
“I’m so sorry. Asher, I know it was wrong. Please, you have to believe me. I was so mad back then and I was mourning my sister—”
“I was mourning her too! She was my only real friend because you know everyone in that life is fake. She was my fucking friend. She died when I found her, did you know that? I felt her blood on my hands when I gave her CPR. I tried to save her, and you tried to ruin me.”
“I didn’t know.” I stare down at my hands and sniffle.
“Well, now you do.” Without another word or a parting glance, he walks away from me and slams the door behind him.
The movie still plays that damn song Asher loves to listen to so much in the background. I curl up in a ball and I thought I’d cry, but honestly, I don’t deserve to feel better and crying tends to do that. I lay my head on the pillow, my cheek sinking into the light feathers and staring out the window.
The skies have turned grey and the trees are swaying with the promise of a storm. The waves are crashing harder into the cliff, matching the turmoil swirling inside my heart. When I was seventeen, I was a different woman. I was filled with hate and rage and after what happened to Grace, I wanted to take down whoever could be to blame.
It isn’t an excuse for him serving six years and I wouldn’t be surprised if he never spoke to me again.
“Hey.” The door creaks open and Jolie’s tentative voice gets my attention. I look over my shoulder to see her holding two sparkling waters and tissues. She shuts the door and stares at the wall where the hot chocolate is, and she kicks the glass pieces out of the way. There are a few pieces she didn’t get, and they crunch under her shoe. “Did Heaven do this?” she asks, stunned at the mess left in his wake.
“Yeah,” I croak, hating that I am the one that ruined his happiness.
Jolie sits on the corner of the bed and hands me the green bottle. I sniffle, sit up, and reach for the cold glass. It’s sweating from the condensation and it slips in my palm and falls on the bed. Luckily, the bottle isn’t open, and the water doesn’t spill.
I wipe my cheek with my arm to dry the damn tears, but now that Jolie is here, my resolve is breaking. “He has every right to be angry with me.”
“It isn’t like him to lose it like that. What happened?” she asks.