Alphas on Top(121)

“He was for about three months. I never met the girl and didn’t even know she existed until a couple weeks after they were married when she answered the phone at Asher’s apartment. I'm not a man but I would think that if I found a woman I was going to spend the rest of my life with, I would want my family to know about her.”

“Can we talk about something else?” I asked, trying not to sound rude but wanting to change the topic. The thought of Asher in love with someone enough to marry her made my stomach turn.

“Sure, beautiful,” she said, grabbing my hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Thanks,” I whispered, squeezing her hand back.

We stopped for coffee on our way out of town then headed to Nashville for a day of shopping and manicures.



Asher

Watching November pull away with my ma, I get that feeling in my chest, the same one I get every time November smiles at me. It’s like taking a shot of whiskey. After the burn, you’re left with the warmth. I wait till I can’t see the truck anymore and drag my hands down my face. Beast barks, getting my attention.

“Come on. We got shit to do,” I tell him, walking into the house. Fuck me if I'm not starting to sound like her. She’s always carrying on one-sided conversations with the dog like she expects him to talk back.

I walk into the bedroom and see that she made the bed while she was in here getting ready. She left the bathroom light on so I go to turn it off. There is girly shit all over the counter. I wait to see if I feel panic and none comes. Not that I actually expected it to. Shit, when she told me that she couldn’t do casual, I had to laugh.

If I could put a ring on her finger right now, I would, but I don’t think she would consider that to be slow. Grabbing my boots and socks, I head out to the living room and call Mike.

After what November told me about her childhood, I am done. I don’t care what I have to do, she is mine and I will never let her feel second best again.

Remembering the tone in her voice when she opened up about her childhood—the neglect and the abuse—has me in such a rage that I have to remind myself that she is here with me and it will do neither of us any good if I get sent to prison for murder. We were in bed and November was lying on top of me as I played with her hair when I finally asked the question that had been nagging me.

“Tell me about your mom,” I said, feeling her whole body go tight. It made my stomach clench knowing that whatever she was about to say was bad. So bad that she was not breathing and her nails were digging into the skin on my arms.

“My mom was an illusion,” she whispered, her body getting closer like she was trying to press her way inside of me. “She was one person to the world and then with me, she was someone completely different.” I squeezed her to encourage her to keep going.

“When I was around seven, I had a school show coming up and was so excited because I had gotten the main part. I ran home to tell my mom, hoping this was something that we could share. She lived to be on stage and was always away following her dream, so I couldn't stop thinking that she would finally be proud. She would finally see that I existed as more than just some kind of obligation. When I got home, she had already gone out so I went to Miss B. like I always did. I was so excited about the part that I spent all night making sure I knew every line, word for word, so when my mom got home, she would see how hard I’d worked.

“Later that night, my mom called Miss B. and told her she was going out after her performance and to just put me to bed. So, like always, Miss B. took me across the hall to our apartment and put me to bed in my own room. It was the middle of the night when I was woken up by being beaten with a broom. I thought someone had broken in and was trying to kill me until my mom started yelling about me not doing my chores. She kept hitting me over and over again. I remember begging her to stop. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she made me get out of bed and clean the house from top to bottom.”

She took a breath and pushed closer to me. “When I told her why I had forgotten about doing my chores, she told me that I wasn't allowed to do the play because I was too irresponsible. Then, she made me kneel on dry rice for an hour while apologizing for being so stupid and unappreciative. The night of the school play, my mom, who had never gone to a school function, made me go and watch another girl play the role that I had been chosen for. When the play was over, my mom dragged me backstage and gave flowers to the girl, hugging her and telling her how amazing she was.” I could feel her tears wetting my skin.

“My whole life she did things like that,” she whispered so softly that I almost didn’t hear.