Love Me Like You Won't Let Go

by Toppen, Melissa

  Chapter Ten

  Blakely

  “Explain to me again how you left in the middle of my event, took an Uber over an hour away, and then stayed the night in a hotel with your ex without calling and I’m not supposed to think the worst?” Tyler paces the living room floor in front of me, pulling at the ends of his hair in frustration.

  “I texted you,” I start, but he quickly cuts me off.

  “You texted me to tell me you had to help out a friend and that you’d be home in the morning. That’s it!” He throws his hands up. “No real explanation. And you certainly did not tell me who you would be with.”

  “It wasn’t like that. Mary called and I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “He’s a grown man, Blakely. You didn’t need to run to his rescue. I’m sure he would have been able to figure it out just fine.”

  “I’m sorry.” I blow out a defeated breath.

  “Do you still love him?” He stops in the middle of the living room, his brown eyes pinning me in place.

  “What?” I stutter out.

  “You heard me, Blakely. Do you love him?”

  “I don’t even know him anymore.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “Asher is a part of my past. A part of me will always care for him. But it’s not like that. Not anymore.”

  “I want to believe you. God, I do. But it’s hard when you make decisions like the one you did last night. Especially without talking to me first.”

  “I realize now how unfair my actions were to you. But in the moment I didn’t think, I just reacted.” I push to a stand and cross the room toward him. “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” I say, stopping directly in front of him.

  “You have to know how this looks, Blakely. Asher shows back up and all of a sudden you’re running to his rescue at the first sign of trouble. If we’re going to be married, he can’t be the man you run to.”

  “I know that.”

  “Do you?” He cocks a brow at me.

  “Of course I do.” I pause, choosing my next words carefully. “I won’t lie and say Asher coming back to town hasn’t brought up a lot of ancient feelings, but that’s all they are, ancient. He made his choice and I made mine. I chose you.” I take his hands in mine.

  He considers my words for a long moment before his features finally relax a little.

  “I’m sorry I yelled at you.” He shakes his head, dropping his gaze to where our hands are connected.

  “Don’t be. I deserve far worse. I never should have left last night, and I certainly shouldn’t have stayed there. I don’t know why but I felt like I had too. Maybe because I know he has no one else, or because it’s something I would have done before he left. I guess I still have things I need to work through, but it doesn’t affect you and me. Asher coming home changes nothing.”

  “I don’t want to share you, Blakely. Not with anyone, but especially not with him.”

  “You won’t. I’m yours.” I press up on my tip toes and lay a light kiss to his mouth.

  He relaxes further, snaking his arms around my waist.

  “Promise me this is the end of it.” He drops his forehead to mine.

  I close my eyes and let out a slow breath.

  “I promise.”

  ——

  “I seriously cannot believe Tyler was so understanding,” Allison says, sipping on her margarita as her and Mary listen to me retell the events that took place last Saturday and into Sunday morning.

  “I’m so sorry,” Mary interjects before I can respond. “I feel like this is all my fault.”

  “Hey.” I reach across the table and pat the top of her hand. “This is on me, not you,” I reassure her.

  “So, have you talked to Asher since?” Allison asks, leaning forward in her chair.

  “No.” I blow out a hard breath. “And I don’t plan to either.”

  “Are you sure that’s such a good idea?” she asks, pushing a section of her highlighted blonde hair over one shoulder. “I mean, you two have a lot of unsorted history.”

  “We do,” I agree, taking a drink of the frozen cocktail in front of me. “But at this point I almost feel like it would only serve to further complicate an already complicated situation. I want to move on, the way I was moving on before Asher showed back up.”

  “But Asher is back, honey,” Mary interjects, pulling my gaze to her. “Ignoring that fact won’t make him magically go away.”

  “I’m not ignoring anything,” I insist, even though deep down I know that’s not entirely true. “I’m simply making the choice to let the past stay in the past.”

  “Now why don’t you stop spoon feeding us this crap and tell us how you really feel?” Allison leans back in her chair, crossing her arms in front of herself.

  “Excuse me?” I draw back like she’s physically assaulted me.

  “We’re your best friends, B. You think we can’t tell when you’re blowing smoke up our asses?”

  “I’m doing no such thing,” I argue.

  “You’re telling me that the boy you’ve loved for over half your life comes waltzing back into town and you’re just going to go on like he’s not even here? How stupid do you think we are?”

  “I don’t. I don’t think you’re stupid.”

  “Good. Then stop with the rehearsed answers and fake smile and tell us how you really feel.” She gives me a knowing look.

  “Leave her alone, Allie,” Mary cuts in, throwing daggers in her direction.

  “We’re her friends,” Allison addresses Mary directly. “What good are we if we don’t tell her the truth or call her on her bullshit?”

  “There are better ways to go about it. Can’t you see how hard this is on her?”

  “No, because she’s over here pretending like everything is fine when clearly it isn’t.”

  “Guys.” I pull both their gazes to me. “I’m sitting right here.”

  “Look,” Allison softens her approach. “We just want to know that you’re really okay.”

  “I’m fine. My god, why are we even having this conversation?”

  “Because this is Asher we’re talking about. Asher.”

  “I’m aware of who he is. I’m also aware of what he did to me.” I fight back the anger threatening to spill out with my words. I know Allison’s intentions are good, but if I have to have one more conversation regarding Asher, I might explode.

  First my mom, then Tyler, now Mary and Allie. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. It’s like everyone thinks they know how I’m feeling when in reality, I don’t even know how I’m feeling.

  “He still loves you,” Mary cuts in, her voice soft.

  “I really don’t care,” I bite, trying to hide the way my heart picks up speed at her words.

  I silently curse the stupid organ for clearly having a mind of its own.

  “I’m not picking sides here,” she hesitantly continues, “and I’m certainly not going to tell you what to do, but don’t you think you should at least talk to him? And not just a few words, I mean a real conversation. If not for him then for you. You need that closure, B.”

  “Have you been talking to my mother?” I cock a brow at her. “Because she said almost the exact same thing to me last week. It’s like you’re all in cahoots.”

  “We’re not ganging up on you,” Allison says. “We all just love and want what’s best for you.”

  “And what is best for me?” I ask defensively. “Because it seems like everyone thinks they know better than me.”

  “It’s like Mary said, at least have a conversation with him. Put the past to rest.”

  “And who’s to say it won’t make things worse?”

  “Maybe it will, but then again that’s why I think you’re so against it to begin with. I think you’re afraid of what you’re going to feel if you sit down and have a real conversation with him.”

  “And what if I am?” I burst.

  “Oh, honey.” Mary gives me a sad smile which only pus
hes me further over the edge.

  “You saw what he did to me.” My gaze jumps between my two friends. “He ruined me. Is it so wrong that I don’t want to open myself back up to be hurt again? I’m happy with Tyler. Maybe we don’t have the history that Asher and I have, but that doesn’t make it any less real. Why would I risk that? It makes absolutely no sense.”

  “And yet it doesn’t stop you from thinking about Asher every chance you get,” Allison says, as if she’s reading my unspoken thoughts.

  “What is wrong with me?” I finally cave, dropping my face into my hands.

  “Nothing is wrong with you, B.” Mary slides her stool closer to me. “He was your first love.”

  “I can’t escape him no matter how hard I try. If he’s not showing up, someone is talking about him. If someone isn’t talking about him, I’m thinking about him. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I’m turned so upside down I don’t even know which way is up.”

  “Which is why you need to talk to us and not try to bury your feelings. We’ve got you, always. No judgments.”

  “But if I can’t be honest with myself, how am I supposed to be honest with you?” I ask, lifting my face to meet Allie’s gaze.

  “It’s not that you’re not being honest with yourself. It’s that you don’t know how you feel. You said so yourself. You’re all over the place. Which is why I pushed. And I’m sorry if I came across as a bitch, but I knew you weren’t being straight with us. You can’t let this ball up inside you. Tell us how you’re feeling even if you don’t understand it yourself.”

  “I don’t even know where to begin to try and process any of this.”

  “Another margarita sounds like a good jumping off point.” Allie smiles.

  “I’m already pretty buzzed. Another margarita might turn me into a crying drunk,” I warn, already having trouble containing my emotions.

  “Maybe a good cry is exactly what you need.” She winks, throwing her hand up to signal the waiter.

  Chapter Eleven

  Blakely

  Six years ago

  “Why haven’t you been answering my calls?” I step into the doorway of Asher’s bedroom to find him sitting on the edge of his bed, a piece of paper in his hand.

  He barely glances up at me as I enter.

  “Are you okay?” I gently take a seat next to him.

  He lets out a long sigh as way of reply.

  The last few days have been difficult. Ever since Asher’s dad passed I don’t really know what to say to him. How do you comfort someone who just became an orphan? What could you possibly say that would make anything even remotely better?

  He’s been pretending that everything is okay, but it’s easy to see that he’s putting on a brave face for my benefit. I wish he could see that I don’t need him to be strong. I need him to let me be strong for him.

  “I was thinking maybe we could take a drive. It’s such a nice day out.”

  He lifts his face and meets my gaze, the dark rings under his eyes unmistakable. “Yeah. We can do that.” He shrugs non-committal.

  “I walked here, but we can head over to my house and get my car.” I reach for his hand, giving it a squeeze.

  “No, I think I’d rather take Dad’s car.” He lifts my hand and kisses the palm before pushing to a stand.

  “Okay,” I agree softly, waiting until he’s already in the hall before standing and following him out into the living room.

  There are boxes stacked in the corner and even more spread across the dining room. Asher’s dad had rented this house for nearly fifteen years, and even though the rent is paid for the next couple of months, Asher’s already begun the process of moving out. Though he has yet to say where he plans to go.

  I tried to convince him to stay with us. My parents offered to let him live in the small room above the garage, but Asher immediately refused.

  Given the amount of money Asher’s dad left him and the life insurance policy that will be paid out in the next few weeks, money isn’t an issue for him. It’s just more of where he wants to go.

  Originally, he had talked about staying in this house until I graduate, then we could get a place together. But the next day I came over to find half the place already in boxes.

  I also found out, via an e-mail he left open on his laptop, that he had cancelled his enrollment at the local community college he was scheduled to start at in the spring.

  He seems so up in the air right now, his mind changing so frequently I have no idea where he actually stands. Then yesterday he showed up at my house and was so cryptic. Asking if I’d love him no matter what happens. It was more than enough to make me a little concerned.

  I know he’s going through a lot and I’m going to have to be patient with him, but all of this uncertainty is starting to make me feel nervous about what else he might change his mind about.

  Asher steps into his shoes before dropping a baseball cap over his messy hair. His shirt is wrinkled and his pants look like they haven’t seen the washer in a couple of wears. I make a mental note to do a little laundry when we get back, and maybe run to the market for him. I noticed earlier he’s getting pretty low on food. Other than a couple of cans of ravioli and a half eaten pack of Oreos, the pantry is basically empty. Then again, he hasn’t really needed a lot. My mom has sent over some sort of casserole every day for the last two weeks.

  “Maybe while we’re out we can stop by the store,” I suggest, watching him snatch his dad’s keys off the hook next to the front door.

  “Maybe.” He shrugs, waiting until I reach him before tugging open the door. Once I step onto the small front porch, he follows me outside.

  I wish I could get more out of him than one word answers. I want to shake him. Tell him to open his eyes. That it’s me. But I can’t do that. I can’t make this about me. I can’t take his behavior personally. I know he’s hurting and I can’t even begin to imagine how he must feel. Both of my parents are here. I can’t fathom losing one, let alone both of them. But that’s exactly what Asher is going through. He’s barely eighteen and has no family left.

  He has an aunt and a cousin and a few other distant relatives, but that’s it. He has no parents, no grandparents, and no siblings. He’s all alone. And while my family has always been like a second family to him, I know it’s not the same.

  Asher makes his way across the front yard to the detached one car garage that sits at the end of the driveway. Punching the code into the key pad, the door immediately slides open, revealing Frank Evan’s pride and joy. A 1969 sky blue Plymouth Roadrunner.

  Frank owned this car for as long as I can remember. It’s sad to think that he’ll never get to drive it again. Like everything else, he put the car in Asher’s name when his health started to decline. He didn’t want his son to have to jump through legal hoops after his death, so he transferred everything to him: bank accounts, car titles, and the lease contract on the house.

  “You sure you wanna take her out?” I step into the garage as Asher pulls open the driver’s side door.

  “I think he’d want me to,” he says, sliding into the car.

  I carefully pull open the passenger side door and take a seat next to him. The car smells musky, like leather and pine. It’s a familiar scent. One that oddly makes me feel closer to Frank. I close my eyes and take a deep breath in.

  I know Frank was Asher’s father, that he’s the one trying to work through losing him, but that doesn’t mean I’m not hurting too. Frank had been like family to me since I was a child. Losing him has left a pretty big hole in my life and while I wish I could talk to Asher about it, I think laying my grief on him would only make it worse. Not that he would see it that way – he always puts me first – but for once I don’t want him to prioritize what I need over what he needs. He just lost his father. What I need shouldn’t matter right now.

  Asher slides the key into the ignition, the engine rumbling to life seconds later. When he pulls out onto the street and pops it into drive, a small smile
passes over his face and I know in that moment he’s thinking of his dad.

  We drive for several minutes in silence. Asher doesn’t say where we’re going and I don’t care enough to ask. It’s the perfect late fall afternoon. The sun shines brightly above us, accenting the orange and red leaves that have begun to litter the ground. I want to be here in the moment with Asher and not think about where we’re going now or where life may take us in the future.

  “There’s something I need to talk to you about, B.” Asher breaks the silence after nearly forty-five minutes without speaking a word.

  “Okay.” I shift toward him, hiding the nervous twist in my stomach by plastering on an easy smile. “What’s up?”

  “I don’t know how to say it.” He keeps his eyes trained on the road, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white.

  The nervous twist in my gut turns into a full blown knot.

  “You can tell me anything, you know that,” I reassure him. “Just say it.”

  Asher’s gaze darts to me for a brief moment before going back to the road.

  “I’m leaving,” he blurts out after what feels like five minutes have passed.

  “What do you mean you’re leaving?” I ask, trying to keep my voice void of the panic that has already started to rise in my chest.

  “Just for a little while,” he quickly interjects, slowing before pulling the car onto the side of the road. Sliding it into park, he unbuckles his seat belt and turns toward me. “I found something. A list my dad made when he was a little younger than I am now. A bucket list of sorts. It was tucked in the front of one of his high school yearbooks. Apparently, before he met my mom he had plans to travel. There are so many places on the list. Different countries and landmarks. I didn’t even know my dad liked to travel,” he says more to himself. “Anyway, when I found the list I started thinking about all the things my dad never got to do. All the things he put on the back burner for my mom and me.”

  “And so you want to go experience those things for him,” I finish his sentence, already knowing where this is going.