Reprieve

by A. E. Woodward

  “How’re you doing?” we ask simultaneously. Despite the heaviness of our meeting, we laugh at our flub, Asher opening his hand wide to cover mine and giving a gentle squeeze that I feel from the ends of my hair to the tips of my toes.

  “You first,” he says between chuckles.

  “I’m great. Really. Finally out on my own. Renting an apartment downtown and working in the hospital as a candy striper.”

  “That’s great. I’m really proud of you.”

  My heart soars hearing him say those words. They mean a lot to me, and he knows it. “I’m hoping to eventually be able to go back to school and finish up my nursing degree, but I have a lot of bridges to mend before I can focus on doing that.”

  He smiles and nods. “Your mother?”

  Knowing that he cares about the one person who has been there through it all for me weakens the links in my armor. “She’s getting there. We go to counseling together. Thanks for asking.”

  “Of course.”

  “And you?” I ask, wanting to know about his life too. This isn’t all about me.

  “If I’m being honest, I’ve been better.”

  My brain starts spinning. I didn’t expect that answer. I expected for him to fake it and lie. To make something up, to make things sound better than they really were, but I should know by now to expect the unexpected when it comes to Asher Hughes.

  “I don’t mean to be a downer, but I’m always going to be honest with you from here on out. No secrets, no mystery.”

  He stands up and walks away from me. I swallow the lump that has taken up shop in my throat. My instinct is to go to him, to do something to keep him close but I sense he needs space for whatever it is he’s going to say and so I give it to him. He paces back and forth for a moment and I watch as he runs his hands through his hair, touches his knuckle to his lips; does all the things the Asher I know and love used to do.

  He’s still in there.

  “The last six months have been hard. Really fucking hard.” His voice is somewhat strained and I grip the seat beneath me, shocked at the depth to which I feel such a simple statement. He takes a step closer to me and my body hums to life like it hasn’t in six months. No runners high could ever replicate how I feel when he’s close to me. “I think about you everyday,” he continues. “I wonder what you’re doing. Who you’re with. If you’re happy. But mostly I wonder if you’re thinking of me too.” He stops and looks at me intensely.

  “Asher.”

  “I know it’s unfair of me to ask,” he admits, “but I’ve got to know, Tegan. Do you think about me? About us?”

  I don’t reply immediately. But I realize that if he’s being honest with me, then the least I can do is reciprocate. “I do.” He stops dead in his tracks and I keep talking, my mouth running away with me. “I think of you every single day. But you hurt me and I don’t know if that’s something I can ever forget.”

  Pain slices through his face but he nods sympathetically. “I don’t want you to forget. I made a lot of mistakes when it came to you and me, I think we both know that. But while you’ve been working on you, I’ve been working more on me. I’m trying to be better, and I will . . . for you.”

  I nod once and then ask, “The promotion?” It’s sneaky of me because I already know the answer, but he doesn’t know that and I want to see if he’s really changed—if he’ll be forthcoming and tell me the truth.

  “They let me go, Tegan. They found out about us. Wood saw us on the security footage. We weren’t as careful as we thought we were.”

  “I know.”

  His eyebrows lift and he cocks his head to the side. “A test?”

  I shrug. “Can’t blame me.”

  Asher bites his lip and looks toward the ground. “I’m sorry, I hope you didn’t think any of it was your fault.” He pauses and sighs before looking back up at me.

  “We were both at fault, Asher, but we couldn’t really control that, could we?”

  “I just . . . the way things went about between us . . . well, it was an eye opener for me. I realized that I wasn’t completely on track like I thought I was. I started seeing a counselor again.”

  “Good for you.” And I’m genuinely pleased for him. I’ve learned a lot in the time since I left the center, and one of those things is how to let things go. Sure, I’m not entirely over what Asher did, or why he did it, but I’ve come to the realization that harboring it doesn’t achieve anything. I’m dealing with stuff now. Gone is the Tegan who let things fester.

  Well, okay, I’m working on it.

  I look back to Asher as he sits down next to me and says quietly, “I know that I’ll always have to keep working on me. I’ll never be perfect,” and the admission softens my heart. He’s admitting his flaws in front of me for the first time and I can’t help but feel for him. “Nobody’s perfect,” I reassure.

  “You are. For me.”

  His hand stretches across the space between us and his finger rubs the side of my hand. His touch is tentative but I allow his hand to entwine with mine. “I miss you, Tegan. Every second of every day.”

  He lifts a hand and pushes my hair back off my face, flicking it over my shoulder and resting his palm against my cheek, cupping my face, his thumb stroking across my cheekbone and I close my eyes, pushing my tongue to the roof of my mouth to fight back against the building emotion. I take a second and when I’m confident I’ve managed to get a handle on it, I open my eyes and look straight into his.

  They’re blazing.

  I’m the fire, he’s the spark.

  His face is tight and it’s clear that he’s holding back.

  But I don’t want him to.

  Not anymore.

  My tongue darts out to wet my bottom lip and his nostrils flare, his pupils expanding rapidly, leaving no doubt as to what he wants.

  He wants me.

  He dips his face closer to mine, silently asking permission and my lips tip upward and I nod once. It’s the smallest of gestures, but it’s enough.

  His hand drops to the back of my neck and his fingers press gently into the soft skin there, pulling me toward him as his lips brush against mine so briefly that I wonder if I imagined it.

  He leans in again, this time catching my bottom lip with his teeth, searching, asking, willing me to accept what he’s offering. I rock forward onto my toes, closing the gap between us. The ground moves underneath my feet, my knees go weak, and just as my legs start to give out beneath me he catches me before I fall. I wrap my arms tightly around him and the closeness of our bodies causes the fire in my belly to ignite.

  He stops and pulls away just enough to speak. “You and I may be bad for each other but seeing you again makes all of it not matter. All I care about is having you back.”

  “I don’t know if I can ever get past everything that went wrong between us,” I admit. “I can try, and I have been. I’m learning to let things go, but there may be times when this comes up for me. When I won’t be able to see reason or fight back th—”

  “I don’t care.”

  I think about my options: continue on without him, living day to day, or be with him and allow our love to burn bright.

  He watches me as I think and as I make my decision a slow, devilish smile spreads across his face.

  He’s always been able to read me like a book.

  “Are you with me, Tegan?”

  He asks the question but he already knows the answer. When confronted with the choice, he knows I’ll choose fire.

  Slowly, I nod and slide my hand behind his neck, lifting up to place my lips against his and whisper, “Always.”

  FROM THE EMBERS there came a spark.

  And that spark ignited a flame.

  This is the beginning for Asher and me.

  Or, then again . . . maybe he’s just my first relapse.

  THE END

  Acknowledgements

  These are always the hardest part of writing a book for me, because there are so many people behin
d the scenes helping me be the best author I can be. I keep my circle small and tight, and without these few people none of this would be possible.

  First off, my husband and kids, who are at this very moment, taking a walk outside so that I can finish up and enjoy the rest of what’s left of our weekend. They’re endlessly supportive and proud of my “night” job, and I hope that I make them proud.

  I will never be able to thank my right hand enough. There are no words that I can find to thank her for the countless hours she put into this, and every other book, I’ve ever written. She takes my drunken thoughts and somehow forms them into coherent and beautiful sentences. She has been with me since the beginning and I will never be able to part ways with her, so I hope she doesn’t get eaten by a shark, or get Chlamydia from a Koala. Ryn, I love you to the moon and back.

  Next up is my girl, Allison. She read Reprieve when it was just beginning, she kept urging me to push the envelope and I think the results are pretty fabulous. She may not be able to write a novel, but I can’t write one without her. Shmoopsie, I got the next dinner. And no, I won’t be cooking it, I’ll take you out instead.

  Olivia and Chelle, you guys helped me see this story from a reader’s eyes so much clearer. You gave me invaluable advice and I will never be able to thank you enough. XOXO.

  To the team that makes this baby pretty: Sara, the photos for this cover were absolutely gorgeous, the design even more perfect and I was so thankful that you allowed me to be involved in every step of the process. You were a dream to work with, and I thank you for taking my vision and making it a reality. Cassy, you’re saving me with formats again, and I can’t thank you enough, so instead I’ll just keep coming back and having you make my words pretty.

  Finally, I thank you, my readers. Some of you are new to me, some have been with me from the beginning, but no matter what you are all the reason why I keep doing what I do. You make the words flow from my brain down to my fingertips. So keep sending me messages, leave me reviews, hug me when we meet, because YOU inspire me.