Bad Habit

by Charleigh Rose

  “Don’t be sorry for me, Whitley. Be sorry for you. I may not have Ash, but I can sleep just fine at night with the things I’ve done. Can you?”

  It’s a lie, a flat-out fucking lie, that I sleep well. I’ve probably only slept a handful of hours total since that night, but she doesn’t need to know that. I go through the what-ifs night after night. What if I never went to that party? What if I tried harder to convince Ash to leave with me? But more than anything, what if I never kissed him in front of the window that night three years ago? But I can live with myself knowing I’ve never intentionally hurt anyone, and that’s more than Whitley can say.

  “No,” she admits, with an edge in her voice. “But I’m trying to fix that.” Honestly, the fact that she still has an attitude—that she hasn’t had a complete personality transplant—gives me hope that maybe she will be better in the future. That this is genuine. Maybe it makes me a fool, but I believe her.

  “Well, good luck,” I say, a little snidely, but genuine nonetheless. She nods before turning to leave, but pauses in the doorway, looking back at me over her shoulder.

  “He’s always loved you, you know. I think I knew it before he did. I knew it because he looked at you the way I looked at him.”

  My throat gets tight, and my eyes burn. But I won’t cry. Not in front of her.

  “Bye, Whitley.”

  Chapter 20

  Asher

  Another week has passed. Another seven days of not talking to Briar. Another one hundred sixty-eight hours of sitting around my dad’s house, taking care of everything he left behind. I’ve trashed most of the stuff that was salvageable, only keeping things of sentimental value. I’ve put off his room for as long as I could, saving it for last. I haven’t so much as set foot in it since I’ve been back, unprepared to face the memories of my mother.

  I twist the cheap gold doorknob and push. I’m relieved to find that it’s nearly empty, save for a bed, their tall maple-colored dresser, and one small wooden box that lies in the middle of the floor. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I squat down to get a closer look.

  It’s a keepsake box that my mom used to stash random things in, like jewelry, birth certificates, social security cards, family photos, and the like. It’s about the size of a hardback book with a tree carved into the top. I open it, expecting to find the aforementioned things, but instead, I find a manila envelope with my name on it.

  Dread. It creeps into me slowly, occupying every part of my being, as my shaky hands reach out to pick it up. It’s heavier than I would have thought. I peel it open, dumping the contents onto the floor, and the first thing that spills out is money. A lot of it. I don’t count it, but it has to at least be a few thousand dollars. What the fuck, Dad?

  The next thing I notice is a folded-up piece of paper. I unfold it to find a letter written in my Dad’s handwriting.

  Asher,

  If you’re reading this, that means I’m gone. I’ve known it was coming for a while now. Expected it, and accepted it, even. I never thought I’d get the chance to make amends with you before my time was up, and maybe we didn’t, but I want you to know that I died happy, having had somewhat of a second chance with you.

  I didn’t do much right as a father or a human, and I know I can’t take credit for the man you’ve become, but you’ve made me proud nonetheless. I failed you in so many ways, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. Know that it was never your fault, even when I couldn’t see it myself.

  The cash enclosed is what Alexander Vale offered me to have you sent away. I knew I couldn’t say no. He would have had you thrown in jail, or worse. I thought by making you leave, I was doing the right thing by you. But I’ve never been good at making the right calls; that was your mother’s department.

  I never spent a dime of this money and always intended for this to be yours. Same with the house. Burn it, sell it, keep it, whatever you want, because it’s yours.

  I guess this is the part in the letter where I should impart some words of wisdom. The truth is, I’ve never been very wise, but I’ll give it a try.

  I hope that when love finds you, and I suspect that it already has, you’re able to hold on to it forever. And if, for some god-forsaken reason you lose it, you don’t end up like me. Don’t let it break you. You’re stronger than that. Stronger than me.

  Second chances don’t come around very often. Third chances are even more rare. If you’re lucky enough to get one, don’t waste it.

  I hope that when you become a father, you forget everything you learned from me. Love like your mother. Love like Briar. Love like you.

  And most importantly, never piss in the wind.

  Love, Dad

  I drop the letter and attempt to sort out the emotions that slam into me all at once, fighting for the spotlight. I feel sad and angry and relieved and hopeful and…at peace. Closure. That’s what this must be. I feel like I can finally let go of it all. All of the loss, all the grief, all the bad.

  For the first time in my adult life, I decide to take my father’s advice. I’m not letting my chance with Briar slip away. But first, I have some things I need to take care of.

  Chapter 21

  Briar

  He’s gone. For good. I know this is what I wanted, or what I need to happen, rather, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Adrian admitted to me the other day that he’d been in contact with Asher. I wasn’t mad. I was curious. Maybe a little jealous, but not mad. My brother, on the other hand, has been a bit more stubborn. I can’t pretend to know what it would feel like to have my best friend lie to me, but I’d like to think that if the roles were reversed and Nat and Dash wanted to be together, I wouldn’t stand in their way. It would be weird and a completely different dynamic, but who am I to tell them what they can and can’t do? Dash argues that it’s different.

  Adrian told Dash that Asher had gone back to River’s Edge a few days ago. I don’t know what I expected. For him to fight for me and pine for me forever? To stay in this town where he has almost no one? Of course not. But it stings.

  I’m listening to “Glycerine” on repeat, feeling sorry for myself, when Adrian calls, interrupting my song.

  “Hey, pretty girl,” he says, using his nickname for me.

  “Hey, Ade.”

  “What are you up to today?”

  “I have the day off, so I’m just hanging out at Nat’s.”

  “What do I have to do to get you to come have lunch with your favorite brother-slash-lover?”

  I laugh, despite the morose mood I’ve been in for the last few weeks.

  “Never say that again and you’ve got yourself a deal. Where do you want to meet?”

  “I’ll text you the address. See you in an hour?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Wear something sexy!” he shouts into the phone right before I hang up, and I catch myself laughing once again. Adrian is just good for the soul. Just like everyone should have a Natalia, everyone should also have an Adrian.

  My phone says it takes forty-five minutes to get there, back in the direction of my house, so I pluck an olive-green T-shirt dress out of my suitcase and slip on my black boots before walking out the door.

  Once I’m close, I pull out my phone to double-check the address. I’m led into a residential area, and I wonder if this is a shortcut or something, but as I turn the corner, it says my destination is on the left.

  What the hell?

  I’m most definitely parked in front of a house, not a restaurant, and I pull off to the side to call Adrian. But then I see him. Not Adrian. Asher. He’s standing in the driveway, his thick eyebrows pulled together, hands behind his back. Signature black jeans, a black V-neck, and black boots.

  I’m not prepared for this. For seeing him again. For the way my stomach flips in response to him. I should drive away. I almost do, but something in his pleading eyes has me turning off the ignition and slowly opening the door.

  I take a deep breath, trying to keep my emotions
in check, as I walk up to him. We meet in the middle, and the look of relief on his face almost cracks my heart in two.

  “What’s going on? Where’s Adrian?” I ask, knowing this is some kind of setup.

  “I need five minutes. That’s it.” His dark hair hangs over one eye, and I want to brush it out of his face. To hug him. To be held by him. To nuzzle into his warm neck and take in the scent that belongs only to him. But I don’t do any of that. Taking my silence as permission, he licks his lips and exhales deeply before continuing.

  “Sometimes, when you’re hurting so deeply for so long, you don’t feel anything at all anymore. And then something or someone comes along that gets under your skin, inside your blood, and makes you feel fucking everything again. And all of that pain that you never felt? It all comes flooding back. I didn’t know how to feel, Briar. Until you, with your big blue eyes and your heart on your sleeve. You made me feel everything, and I both loved and hated you for it. I wasn’t blessed with a perfect life, but I had you.”

  “Ash,” I whisper, taking a step forward, but he stops me with a raised palm.

  “Please,” he says brokenly. “Just let me finish.”

  I nod, waiting for him to continue.

  “When your dad confronted me with a picture of us together and the drugs he knew I had, I should’ve known you’d never have any part in that. I convinced myself that you were like everyone else, shallow, and conniving, and self-serving. It was almost easier, because that way, I didn’t have to worry about those fucking feelings.

  “And then when you hit your head, all I saw was my mom. I couldn’t save her, and I couldn’t save you. I prayed—fucking prayed—for the first time in my life. I bartered with God. I told Him if He let you be okay, that I’d leave you alone. And you were okay, but then my dad died, and it was clearer than ever. I needed to run, and this time I wasn’t going to come back. I knew you’d be better off without me, and I planned on letting you go…” He pauses, running a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. “Until I saw the succulent you left at my parents’ grave.”

  I suck in a breath, taking in everything he’s saying. He’s cutting himself open and bleeding before me. He’s breaking my heart and making me whole all at once. Tears are streaming down my face at his words, and I don’t even try to wipe them away.

  “I think I’ve loved you since you cried for that pigeon. There you were, privileged and beautiful and had everything most people can only dream of, yet you still cared about a fucking bird. And you cared for me. You showed me your pure soul that day, and you showed it again when you went to my dad’s funeral, and every day in between. And I’m too fucking selfish to give you up.”

  “What are you saying?” I ask skeptically, afraid to get my hopes up again.

  “I’m saying I’m not running anymore, Briar. I’m staying here. With you. And fuck anyone who has a problem with it.”

  He grabs my hand and leads me inside the house. It’s not fully furnished, but it has a few things, like a plush rug in front of a fireplace that’s probably never been used and a simple white couch. It looks like it’s a stage home for sale, and I wonder what exactly we’re doing here. He keeps walking us through a tiled hallway, past some stairs, and into a kitchen.

  “What is all this?” I ask, taking in the stainless steel refrigerator and empty marble counters.

  “I bought it.”

  “You what?”

  “I bought it,” he says again. “Or, I’m about to. I told you, I’m here for good. For always. And I want you to be with me here, too.”

  “Ash,” I breathe, tempted to pinch myself. This is all I’ve ever wanted. And there was a time when I would have blindly said yes to anything he asked of me, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that if something seems too good to be true, it probably is.

  “Isn’t this a little fast?”

  “Fast? This has been six years in the making. We were always meant for each other. We just did it wrong.”

  “How do I know that this is real? I can’t do this again. I can’t lose you again.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, baby. Even if you don’t move in. If you want to stay at home, or in a dorm, or move to another state, we can figure that out, too.”

  “You’re serious,” I ask, but it comes out more like a statement. Asher pushes off the counter and strides toward me, his multi-colored eyes blazing into mine. He threads a hand through my hair at the nape of my neck and ducks down so his mouth is level with mine. I keep my hands clenched at my sides. I know if I let myself touch him, I’m done for. I’ll stand absolutely no chance.

  “I love you,” he says against my lips before pressing them to mine. I close my eyes at hearing those words spoken to me for the first time. He told Dash that he loved me, but hearing it like this is so much more. “I love every fucking thing about you,” he says, pressing another kiss to my jaw, my neck. “I love the way you smell, the way you taste.” He nips at the skin on my shoulder. “I love the way you love, recklessly and unconditionally. I love this body...” Ash’s hands smooth down my back to rub my ass through the thin T-shirt dress, and my breath hitches. A tear slips free, and he licks it up, bending to grab me by the back of my thighs. He lifts me into his arms, and my legs wrap around him, like they were meant to be there. “And how it was made for me. I loved you even when I hated you. And that’s how I knew I didn’t hate you at all.”

  I swallow past the lump in my throat, looking into the whiskey and jade eyes of the boy that I’ve always loved. They search mine, begging for me to put him out of his misery.

  “I love you, too. I’ve loved you forever.”

  At my confession, he props me up onto the counter. He holds my face in both hands before devouring my mouth with his. His tongue pushes inside, and I suck on it, eliciting a groan from the back of his throat. We pour everything into this kiss. Every ounce of pain and love and longing and lust and betrayal. Every secret, stolen moment. Every tear, every orgasm, every touch.

  Asher pulls back and lifts the hem of my dress as he sinks to his knees in front of me. Starting at the soft skin below my belly button, he peppers kisses, dragging my dress up along the way. Right before he exposes my braless chest, his eyes lock with mine. I can’t breathe, can’t speak, can’t do anything other than focus on the sensations consuming me. Still holding my gaze, he bites the ample, fleshy underside of my breast, and I shudder, goose bumps assaulting everywhere from my stomach to my ears. My nipples tighten almost painfully, and he closes his mouth around one, biting it through the fabric of my dress.

  The ache in my core intensifies, and I’m so wet I can feel it between my thighs. Slowly, he peels the dress over my tight pink nipples and sucks one into his mouth while kneading the other. He alternates kissing and sucking and biting, giving them equal attention.

  Needing more, I rip my dress over my head, letting it fall somewhere behind me, and pull him in for another soul-shattering kiss. When he pulls away, we’re both breathing raggedly. Hooking his fingers into the sides of my underwear, he tugs them down, leaving me in nothing but my black combat boots.

  Asher drops to his knees once more. He peels my panties down, letting them drop to the floor, before spreading my legs with his shoulders. He pushes on my lower stomach, forcing me to lean back on my elbows. His tongue parts my lower lips, and I gasp at the contact. Lightly, he flicks his tongue against my swollen clit, and I jerk off the counter in response.

  “Stay still, baby. I want to taste you.”

  Trying my best to obey, I lie flat against the countertop. Ash wraps his hand around my right ankle and pulls my boot off. He kisses the arch of my foot before placing it on the edge, doing the same to the other one. He presses against my knees, opening me to him. I’m completely exposed, and he stands, taking his sweet time to study my most vulnerable place.

  He bites on that plump bottom lip and slides two fingers over my clit, rubbing and swirling. He speeds up his movements, and soon, he’s rubbing ev
erywhere from my clit to my ass and everything in between as I desperately rock into his touch.

  “Please, Ash. I need you.”

  “I want to take my time with you,” he says in a strained voice, and I realize he’s scared, too. He’s afraid this will be our last time together.

  “Baby,” I say, sitting up, my fingers going straight for the button of his jeans. “We have all the time in the world.” I undo his pants and use my feet to push them off his hips, not even bothering to take the time to rid him of his shirt. I take his length in my hand, directing him to my entrance. Hot and hard meets warm and wet as he thrusts inside me.

  Asher holds my gaze as he slowly drives into me, and it’s the best kind of torture. I drop my eyes to see his length disappearing inside of me, and I feel myself clench around him at the sight. He groans and buries himself to the hilt, controlling my movements with his hands on my hips.

  “I love you,” I say again, and those words must unleash something inside of him, because then he’s leaning me backward, covering my body with his own, as he thrusts into me like a madman. He takes my nipple into his mouth and sucks, while his hand snakes down my body to rub my clit.

  “I’m going to come, Ash. Fuck me, please. I’m going to come.” My words run together, almost unintelligible, but the meaning is clear.

  “Say it again,” he says raggedly. His hair is damp with sweat, and his eyes are glazed over with lust.

  “I love you,” I cry out. “I love you so fucking much.”

  Asher brings his big hands to grip my hips, his thumbs touching as he drives into me punishingly. I throw my head back and my body locks up, my mouth dropping open in a silent scream as he fucks me through my orgasm. My legs shake uncontrollably, and I think I might lose consciousness. Ash grabs me by the jaw, forcing my gaze back to him. He presses his thumb against my bottom lip before I suck it into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it.