The Space Between Us(58)

"That's not what you asked me. You asked who my last girlfriend was. It  was you." She was quiet as she considered what I'd said. Then she shook  her head and looked down at her hands.

"Why didn't you tell me about the miscarriage?" Her eyes snapped back to  me. She reached for a shot glass and my hand shot out, stopping her, my  eyes pleading with her. I needed to hear why she kept that from me.  "Bit," I whispered. "Please." She shook off my hand and took the shot. I  watched as she put the empty shot glass back on the table, her eyes  finding mine. The sorrow in her eyes matched the disappointment I felt. I  wanted her to let me in so desperately, but I didn't know if I would  ever be able to break her open. "Your turn."                       
       
           



       

"Did you tell your parents about the babies?" Her question caught me off guard, but I answered her.

"Yes. That same night we all had dinner."

"How did they take it?" She asked with sadness in her eyes.

I took in a deep breath, trying to figure out how to answer her without  hurting her. "At first my mom was upset that I didn't tell her when it  happened. It didn't feel right to lie to her anymore, so I told her  everything. I told her what I had said to you, and that you had pretty  much left, and I thought it was over. My dad didn't say much, just that  he understood where I was coming from. Both he and my mom told me that  they would have supported me and that everyone makes mistakes." I paused  and watched her take in my words. She unconsciously took her hand and  brought her hair forward so it rested over her shoulder. A black, shiny  waterfall of silky hair fell down to her waist. The contrast of the dark  hair against her olive skin was stunning. I cleared my throat, catching  myself staring at her.

"In the end I think my mother was more upset that you hadn't told her.  She didn't understand why you left so suddenly. None of us do. Why'd you  run away?"

"Asher, I don't want to talk about it. Trust me, it will do neither of us any good to re-hash our past."

"Then take a shot." She paused but then picked up a shot glass and swallowed the tequila quickly.

"Tell me about your most favorite case," she said as she winced through  the burn of the liquor. So, this was it. I could tell she was pulling  away from me. So I answered her questions.

For the next hour or so we sat at that table and had a normal  conversation. No more shots were taken, but she finished her drink. I  found out all about her art, where she sells it, what she found in New  York that inspires her, what books she's read recently. All of it was  informative, but none of it was important, not important enough. Nothing  I could learn about her life now would mean anything unless I could put  it into context with why she had run away, why she continued to run.

She took in a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "Asher, I'm getting really  tired. I think I'm ready to go home." She stood up and stumbled as soon  as her foot hit the floor.

"Whoa, Charlie." I jumped off my stool and caught her before she tumbled to the floor. "You all right?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm just a little drunk," she said with a smile. I shook my head.  She was so small, so tiny, the alcohol plowed right through her.

"Ok, let's get out of here." I wrapped my arm around her waist and she leaned her head against my shoulder.

"I can walk on my own, Asher."

I smirked. "I know. I'm just helping."

"Ok," she sighed.

We made it to my car and I helped her in, then got into the driver's seat, turning the key in the ignition.

"Asher," she whispered. I turned towards her. Her voice sounded sad.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something without you reading too much into it?"

My pulse raced at her question. "Ok," I replied, just as apprehensive as  she was. I'd just made a promise I couldn't possibly keep.

"Can I go home with you? I don't want to spend another night alone in my  dead father's house." My heart ached at her words. She was broken, no  matter how hard she tried to come across as put together and strong.

"Of course." I smiled weakly at her. Then my smiled faded as I realized I  would be sleeping in the same house as her and I wasn't allowed to  touch her.

"I'll sleep on the couch," she said, almost reading my thoughts.

"No, you'll sleep in my bed."

"Asher, I can't sleep with you," she said panicked. That made me smile.  Sickly, it made me glad she got just as much anxiety about it as I did.  She was afraid to be in a bed with me, afraid of what would happen.

"Don't worry. I'll take the couch."

"Ok," she said as she breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thank you." I  pulled out of the parking lot and saw her head lean over onto the  window. She spent the entire drive watching the street lights pass as I  drove us to my house.





Chapter Fourteen

Asher

When we got to my house it seemed as if she'd sobered up a little bit.  She didn't need my help to walk to the door, but her speech was a still a  little off. I opened the door and led her into the living room,  flipping on the lights as I walked through the house.

"This is a really nice place," she said quietly.

"Thanks. It's not much, but it's just me so I don't need a lot." I  looked around the living room, noticing how it must look to her: bare,  empty and cold. I didn't spend a lot of time here. I was usually at the  office or sleeping. There wasn't a need to make this place comfortable.  Right now, however, I wished I had something more than stark walls and  uncomfortable chairs. "You can follow me back to the bedroom." I pointed  down the hall, then led the way.                       
       
           



       

I walked in, flipped on the light, and went straight for my dresser, not  wanting to take any time to see her in my bedroom. I wanted her here,  in my house and with me. I wanted as much time as I could steal with  her. But I knew it would be torture to see her in my bedroom and not be  free to touch her, free to feel her skin under my hands, free to breathe  in her scent and bring her body as close to mine as I could manage. I  gripped the clothes in the drawer, my fists clenching around shirts,  trying to ease the frustration that came with the situation.

I took a moment to calm down and then grabbed a shirt and a pair of  basketball shorts, both of which would be comically huge on her, but I  figured it would be better than trying to sleep in the dress she wore. I  turned around and was accosted by the image I was so desperately trying  to avoid: Charlie standing in my bedroom, sleepy eyes and nervous  smile. There was no way for her to understand how much I struggled with  keeping my hands to myself in that moment. I shoved the clothes towards  her and my voice sounded harsher than I intended.

"You can change into these. The master bathroom is just through there," I  motioned with a nod of my head towards the door on the other side of  the room. She walked towards me and gingerly took the clothes from my  hand. She walked past me to the door and my eyes closed, ignoring the  ache in my chest that wanted me to stop her. An overwhelming part of me  that wanted to hold her, slide her dress off her body, and feel her. I  would give anything to be given the privilege. I heard the door to the  bathroom click shut and I ran my hands over my face, trying to rub away  the tension.

I turned back to my dresser to get some sleeping clothes for myself when  I heard a loud crash come from the bathroom followed by Charlie's  voice.

"Ouch! Son of a bitch," she yelled. I reacted immediately and pounced on the door, flinging it open.

There was no blood, or even any real indication that anything terrible  happened. Charlie sat on the edge of the tub, gripping her ankle,  examining it closely.

"Are you ok?" I asked eagerly.

Charlie's head snapped to look at me and instantly I saw the panic come  across her face. She scrambled on the floor trying to grab her dress to  cover herself. And in that very moment, that one tiny and miniscule  moment in time, my entire world tilted.

It halted.

It screeched to a stop.

It nearly exploded.

My eyes took her in. She was frail looking, thinner than I had imagined  her to be. She was in just panties and a strapless bra. On her side,  covering every single rib bone that was clearly defined, was a large,  black and intricate tattoo. I saw it and it took just a second for me to  recognize my own name. My eyes went wide and locked on hers.

She looked guilty, scared, and sad.

"Why is my name tattooed on your body?" I asked, confused.

"No, Asher." She whispered. I recognized the look of a woman on the  verge of tears, but I wasn't going to back down. I took another step  into the bathroom and she took another step away from me, backing  herself up against the counter.