Undeniably Asher (The Colloway Brothers Book 2)(63)

Then one fateful night everything was taken away from me. And I was left with grief and nothing but a mountain of questions that I’ll never get the answers to. I still feel tethered to the Widowmaker’s curve, where two more sad, weathered wooden crosses mark untimely deaths.

One for Beck.

One for our baby.

I find it ironic now that I can’t let people in and I ended up loving a man who was exactly the same as me. Had that horrible night not happened, I have no doubt we wouldn’t have made it long-term. There were too many secrets between us. He knew my mom walked out on us, but I never talked about her. I didn’t talk about Livia and my resentment that she was never around. And he never knew my dad was a gambling addict.

Now that I’m in love again, I don’t want that secrecy, that barrier between Asher and me, because ultimately it will destroy us. Secrets are nothing more than lies of omission and I’m a big, black cavern of them. I don’t want to be this person. I don’t want to lose the best thing to happen to me in a very long time because I’m incapable of exposing my inner ugly scars. I’m starting to think I need professional help.

“What are you thinking so hard about over there, baby?” Asher’s breath skates over my naked flesh and a wash of heat instantly settles over me, bringing me back from the past firmly into the present.

So much, I want to say, but instead of telling him everything I’m really thinking, I deflect, because I’m a fucking expert in that art. And we do need to talk through last night with words, instead of with our bodies.

I need to make sure this relationship isn’t going down the same path as my last one. Because I don’t think I can handle it if it is. I loved Beck and losing him was hard. But already my feelings are so much stronger for Asher, and losing him…I just don’t know if I’m strong enough to survive it. The fact that I feel this way about him so early in our relationship is extremely disconcerting.

“Who was she?” I ask quietly.

He stiffens behind me. “Who was who?”

“The woman who made you so mistrustful.”

I turn in his arms so our faces are just inches apart. Reaching up, I trace his thick brow, lightly dragging my finger down his scruffy jaw. I want to look into his eyes and have him tell me the truth.

“What makes you think it’s a woman?” He’s not sarcastic, but asking like he genuinely wants to know.

“A woman recognizes another woman’s handiwork in the wounds left behind on her man.”

He laughs. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think this elusive woman did?” He brushes a piece of errant hair from my face and I’m not sure I could be any more in love with him than I am right now. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but once they’re out, I need to be willing to be completely honest with him. About everything. And I just don’t think I’m quite there yet. But I want to be. I want to get there.

“Hmmm…if I had to guess it would be that she cheated on you.”

He gazes at me thoughtfully. I easily see the hurt flicker in his beautiful blues. It makes me sad. It hurts my heart.

We both have a past. We’ve both endured pain at the hands of another person who was supposed to love us, yet here we are, willing to try again. Trying hard to unlock the chains, to be vulnerable, to open up. We’re both struggling with former demons that want to keep us shackled and unhappy, and somehow that makes it a little bit easier. At least for me.

“It was a long time ago,” he replies quietly.

“But the wound still runs deep.”

A sad smile curls his lip. “It sounds like you know all about it.” His reply isn’t accusatory or confrontational. It’s fact. He sees more than I think I let on. He wants me to know it. No one has ever gotten me like Asher. No one.

“I have my own wounds, yes.” He has no idea that even that small admittance is a very big step for me. I take great pains to make sure everyone around me thinks I’m hunky dory, but deep down I’m just…not.

“I know, baby. You can trust me.” We both smile at the exact words that caused this mess to begin with.

“I think that’s something we both need to work on,” I tell him.

“Hmm,” he says thoughtfully, almost like he’s far away. “I guess so.”

I don’t want to lose what we’re building here and I suddenly panic. What if he decides I’m just too much work? That my outer shell is too damn hard to crack before he can get to the gooey goodness inside? I need to start opening up, as hard and painful as it may be. Maybe if I open the door just a crack at a time, I can get through this.