Unexpected

“And I’m going to be here for you every step of the way.”

“Elaine!” Asher yells. “I don’t want you here.”

“What?” No. He doesn't mean that. He's doing what he did with my dad, saying what he thinks is necessary to keep me safe. I don't want safe. I want him. “What do you mean you don’t want me here? Asher, I...I think I’m falling in love with you.”

“You don’t love me, El. You love the way I make you feel because you weren’t treated right, but this isn’t love. This is lust.”

“You’re wrong. I love you.”

“Stop. Please.”

“No! I won’t stop. I will come here every day and tell you how much I love you. You need me, Asher. I won’t abandon you.”

“Goddamnit, El! Why can’t you listen to me?” he booms. The guard looks at us but doesn’t move to calm Asher down, which terrifies me. How often do they see this? How often are loving couples ripped apart in this room? “I was trying to be nice but, apparently, that’s not working. I don’t love you. I hooked up with you to piss Liam off.”

“I don’t believe you.” He told me everything was real. He said so himself!

“Well, then, you’re an idiot.”

“I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to push me away.”

“Of course I am! This isn’t the life you’re meant for. You can’t waste your life on me. My trial could take years.”

“It won’t.”

Dad won't let it. I won't let it. I'll barge into that courtroom and demand everyone listen to me. There's nothing they can do if I choose to tell the truth right then. Sure, it'll piss Dad off and screw up my first year of college, but Dad would do everything in his power to set me free. I know it.

“It could! People change in prison. What happens if you give up everything for me and when I get out we can’t stand each other? Then what?”

“Asher, this is jail, not prison.”

“I murdered my stepdad. You were there! I shot him in cold blood.”

I slam my fist against the barrier between us. "No, you didn't! I did, Asher. Me. I shot Clint to defend myself and to save your life!"

“Keep telling yourself that, love. Facts are facts and the facts are: I don’t love you. I don’t want you here, and if you show up to any of my hearings I will have the police escort you out.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Try me, El.”

“I love you, Asher.”

He shakes his head, disappointment etched across his face. I search his eyes for a glimmer of truth. Something to tell me that he's lying, but they're cold and empty. “Then figure out how to stop.”

Dear Asher,

When we were eight, you left my house after our playdate and never came back. Something happened between our parents— yours, mine, and Liam’s— and that was it. Everyone pretended like you didn’t exist, and I couldn’t understand why. We had known each other since diaper days. You gave me my favorite Ariel doll for my fifth birthday. You ripped her head off at the playground, and then, poof.

You were gone

I cried.

I cried every day for a solid week. That doesn’t sound like long, but when you’re eight years old with an attention span the size of a grain of rice, it’s a big deal.

Now, imagine me today. Eighteen years old, mulling over our last conversation. You know, the one where you told me never to come back after I told you I was falling in love with you. How much do you think I’ve cried? How long do you think my tears will last now that you have my heart?

I’ll tell you.