Chapter 44 (Breslin)
The steady hum of the machines connected to Asher's father is unbearably loud in the quiet hospital room.
Asher hasn't said a word since we've been here. Not even when Preston walked in, took one look at his father, and walked right back out.
The staff want him to make a decision, but I told them to give him some space. It's not every day that a 21-year-old college student is forced to choose between the life or death of their parent.
Or in this case...vegetative state and death.
It turns out that Mr. Holden's car hit a patch of black ice and his brand-new Mercedes wrapped around a tree at a hefty 65 miles per hour. Technically he should have been killed on impact, but the first responders found a pulse and brought him here.
The police have been by and they told us they were going to do a full investigation, but as of now, they're chalking it up to the bad weather and bad luck.
I hear Asher's sharp intake of breath and I get up from my chair and rush over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist, my chest pressing against his back. For the better part of three hours he's just been standing over him, unable to speak.
One of his hands squeeze mine and my heart thumps against him so hard I wince as I mold around him like a second skin.
“He used to be my hero,” he whispers and I press my cheek to his back, letting him know that I'm here and I'm listening. “But right now, I don't feel a damn thing. I keep waiting for it to hit me, keep waiting for the tears and the realization to come, but there's just nothing. Almost like I'm numb.”
His statement throws me, but I don't want to judge him so I silently urge him to continue talking now that he finally is.
“I should feel something, though, right? Because what kind of person doesn't feel anything when their own father is on his deathbed?”
I kiss his shoulder blade, trying to think of the right words to say to comfort him, but I come up empty.
The only thing I can tell him is the truth. “Sometimes feeling nothing is feeling something.” I press another kiss to his back. “Sometimes going numb is the only way to protect yourself from the things that hurt.”
He's silent for another moment, and then he whispers, “He used to beat me.”
I go stiff against him. “What?” A surge of guilt plows through me and I feel equal parts heartbroken and betrayed at his confession. “Why didn't you ever tell me?”
“I couldn't.” He turns around to face me then, his expression somber. “Besides, what would you have done? Beat him up for me? Report him to the cops who would have laughed at you after he paid them off?”
I narrow my eyes, feeling mildly annoyed with his statement. “I don't know exactly what I would have done, but I would have done something, Asher.”
His thumb strokes my cheekbone and my gaze zeros in on the scar above his eyebrow. Intuition hits me like a brick to the gut. “He did that, didn't he?”
Asher always told me that he didn't know how he ended up with the scar, but something about that never sat right with me. I guess I know why now.
He nods. “He rammed my face into the corner of a coffee table when I was nine. Preston ended up saving my ass, or it would have been worse.”
I ball my fists and my eyes drift over to where his father is lying peacefully in his hospital bed. My stomach turns with the need to unplug every wire attached to the various machines that are keeping the asshole alive right now.
He hurt my Asher. The boy who held my heart in the palm of his hand.
The man who still does.
I don't even realize I've taken a step toward him until Asher clamps both of his hands on my upper arms, holding me in place. “Can you give me a moment alone with him? Maybe go out to the waiting room and check on Preston for me?”
My gut is telling me no, given what he's just told me, but the look in his eyes tells me he needs this. Leaning up on my tiptoes, I brush my lips over his scar. “I'm so sorry, Asher.”
Our eyes connect and it takes everything in me not to kiss him. I feel the barrier covering my heart start to chip, because all I want to do right now is hold him in my arms and take every ounce of his pain away.
He ruffles my hair and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Thank you for being with me today.”
I give his hand a squeeze. “If you need me you know where I'll be.”
I slide my phone out of my pocket when I step out of the room and check my messages. I sent a text to Landon ten minutes ago updating him on Asher, but he hasn't responded yet.
Pressing send on my cell, I return Kit's phone call. “I know, worst best friend ever,” I start, as I walk down the hall. “I'm sorry I wasn't able to get you from the airport.”
I can almost see her rolling her eyes on the other line. “Are you kidding me? Don't even worry about it. I took a cab back to the dorms.” She sighs. “How is he?”
“He's holding himself together as best as he can. The hospital wants him to make a decision but he's not in the head space to do it. I think he's hoping his mom comes home from her cruise soon and that she'll take it off his hands.”
“Can't say I blame him.”
I make a sharp left and continue down another short hallway toward the private waiting room. “Yeah, me either. Listen, I don't know when we'll be back at Woodside. I'm assuming late tonight or early tomorrow, though. It all depends on what Asher wants to do.” I stuff my hand in the pocket of my jeans. “I was supposed to pick up the early morning shift at the coffee house tomorrow before classes start but—”
“I'll cover it,” Kit cuts in. “My classes don't begin until the afternoon anyway.”
“Are you sure?”
“B, I've got you. But, if you want to make it up to me, meet me in the cafeteria before classes start, this way we can grab a late lunch and catch up. It feels like forever since we last talked.”
She's right, it really does. “It's a date,” I say before I hang up.
Putting my phone back in my pocket, I enter the small waiting room that the staff at the hospital closed off for us due to Mr. Holden's celebrity status—and that's where I find Preston sitting in a chair with his head in his hands.
I slowly approach him, feeling like I'm walking on eggshells.
It's a little unnerving to be stuck in a room with someone who pretty much hates your guts, but you're not exactly sure of the reasons for it. I mean, I guess from his perspective, I broke up with his brother and hurt him so he's just being protective over his sibling.
Even still, the amount of sheer disdain in his eyes when he lifts his head and sees me is...perplexing. But then again, who knows what Asher told him about me after our breakup.
Whatever it was, though, I'm not about to dispute it here of all places.
Preston and Asher look so much alike they could almost pass for twins. The only exceptions between them are that Preston's build is slimmer, his hair is a few shades darker, and his eyes are a dark gray blue instead of the piercing blue like Asher's are, giving him a harsher appearance than his older brother. Something that's even more apparent when his jaw hardens and his eyes become tiny slits.
I can practically feel the hate he has for me seeping off him.
I backtrack, a hair away from running out the door. Instead, I decide to be the bigger person. “I'm thinking about going down to the cafeteria. Is there anything I can get you? Coffee, water, maybe a sandwich? You've been here for a while so you must be hungry.”
His expression turns to ice. “Why the fuck are you even here right now? Haven't you done enough to him already?”
I can't help but wince at his hostility. “Look,” I say slowly. “I know you have your feelings regarding our breakup and all—”
“Breakup?” he scoffs, cutting me off. “More like set up.”
To say I'm beyond confused would be an understatement. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”
“Save it,” he spits, rising from his chair. “You might have my brother fooled with those rose-colored glasses of his, but I know the truth about what a lying, manipulative, spiteful little bitch you really are. And if you don't get the fuck out of my sight, I will blow your shit up and tell him everything.”
I rear back as though I've been slapped. “Whoa. First off, you're not making any sense. Secondly, you're completely out of line.”
“Am I?” he questions, taking a step closer. “Or are you just covering up for your dear old dead-beat dad?”
I shake my head, because the words coming out of his mouth legitimately don't make sense to me. Even more so after that last remark. “What does my father have to do with anything?”
He laughs, but there's not a drop of humor. “Wow, you're good. Real good. You've got that whole, wide-eyed innocent act down to a science. Your daddy teach you that?” He smirks, his finger skimming my cheek. “Or maybe it was your slut of a mother. This way, you could learn the proper way to rope a rich boy in. You know, before she left your sorry asses and moved on to greener pastures.”
Before I can stop myself, my hand connects with his face. “I was never with your brother for his money. I love him. I have always loved him.” I go to slap him again but he catches my wrist. “And don't you dare ever talk about my mother, you son of a bitch.”
He moves in, getting uncomfortably close to my face. “Get the fuck out of here, before I tell my brother the truth about you.”
I edge forward so that we're nose to nose. “Mind informing me what that truth might be first?”
Something flashes in his eyes for a moment, before they turn hard again. “Okay, that's the way you want to play it?” He takes a step back, running his hand over his jaw. “How about the fact that your father was the co-conspirator with Kyle behind that fucking video?”
I gape at him. “You mean the sex tape that went viral?” I gasp when I realize. “Kyle set that up?”
My stomach churns with my next sentence. “And what do you mean when you say that my father had something to do with it?”
His nostrils flare. “You know, my patience with you is spreading real thin.”
“Jesus, I don't know what the hell you're talking about, Preston!” I shout, my voice cracking. “All I know, is that whatever you think about me is wrong. I would never set up your brother. Not even after he broke my heart would I ever do something like that to him.” I meet his gaze. “And if you knew the video was a set up why wouldn't you tell him?”
He looks baffled, his anger long gone now. “Why would I tell him when he already knows Kyle set him up and blackmailed him?”
“Blackmail?” I croak out. “I don't—”
His eyes go big. “Fuck, you really have no idea, do you?”
“No,” I whisper, my chest caving in. “The only thing I know is that your brother broke up with me after he told me he was gay and that he cheated on me with Kyle of all people.” Even in this moment the memory twists my insides, but I press on. “Preston, please—I know you hate me but I'm begging you to tell me everything.” I take a breath, my head whirling. “I don't understand why your brother never told me but—” I clutch my stomach, nearly keeling over with shame and guilt. Because Asher did try to tell me.
A few times.
“Oh, God.” I look up at him through tear-soaked lashes. “You're right. I am a spiteful bitch.”
Surprisingly, Preston leads me to a chair to sit down. “Shit, Breslin. I honestly thought you knew.”
I give my head a shake. “I didn't...I don't.”
“My brother didn't cheat on you,” he says as he begins pacing. “Not exactly, anyway.” He pauses to look at me. “You know how Kyle used to sleep over our house a lot after football practice?”
When I give him a nod, he says, “Well, one night while Asher was sleeping, Kyle decided to blackmail him...his props were his mouth and a video camera. The results of that blackmail were twisted and altered.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Why would he blackmail Asher in the first place? Kyle was a jerk to me, but they were friends, teammates. Plus, Kyle's family is well off, I don't understand the motive.”
“This is where things get complicated.” He looks at the ceiling. “I don't know every little detail, that's something you'll have to talk to Asher about, after he reams my head in for telling you this shit. But, the gist of it is that Kyle's dad threatened not to give him his inheritance if he didn't make it onto a college sport's team.”
He shrugs. “Kyle sucks at sports, the only reason he was put on a team was because my father talked to the coach and plead his case. Anyway, for some fucked up reason, Kyle decided that blackmailing my brother was the bright way of going about it. Asher had offers coming out of his ass, everyone wanted him. Guess he figured Asher would make it happen.” He flinches. “He also might have taken a nude photo of you in the school locker room as extra leverage.”
Horror creeps up my spine. “What? How is that even possible?” My hands find my face, when I realize that it was actually quite possible. “I thought it was Marcy Bush and her cronies who hid my clothes after my shower that day.”
He looks down at the ground. “Sorry, Breslin. I thought maybe you or your dad added that to the mix to throw Asher off the trail from suspecting you were behind it.”
“I don't know anything about the trail, Preston.” I grind my teeth. “And I'm not behind anything.”
“I know that now.” He rubs his head. “Needless to say, everything got all fucked up and it quickly became obvious to Asher that Kyle was obsessed with him in addition to being an asshole. I don't know the ins and outs of it, but I guess some lines in Asher's head became blurred the further Kyle pushed him.”
He plops down on the chair across from me. “Asher struggled with his feelings, but he didn't talk about it with anyone. The only choice he felt he had was to accept Kyle's blackmail and give him what he wanted. He couldn't go to my dad because he'd get the shit beaten out of him, and depending on his mood when he told him, he might have even tossed him on the street. He couldn't come to me because I was even younger than he was and there was nothing I could do. And he couldn't go to you because he was afraid he'd lose you once he told you the feelings he was having.”
It feels like my lungs are being wrung out and I can't breathe. “I didn't know. When he told me, he didn't—”
I didn't give him a chance to tell me. I was already gone. I'd already abandoned him.
“He couldn't, because Kyle said that if he told anyone he'd go viral with the video and your nude picture. Kyle wanted you gone, that was one of the stipulations. And after you were gone, he basically forced Asher into a relationship with him at Duke. Which, of course, only made Kyle even more obsessed with him. He's got major problems. Dude is fucking sick in the head, Breslin.”
Yeah, he most definitely is.
“What made Kyle release the video?” I sit up in my seat. “Don't get me wrong, there are more crucial things that I need to know about, but I'm just trying to connect the dots here.”
He expels a breath and lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “I don't know to be honest. Asher said it was because Kyle walked in on him sleeping with someone else and went postal. And given that he's fucking crazy, I guess it makes sense. Although, it's also strange because if money was really his main motive, why would he choose to release the video a year before Asher would undoubtedly be drafted to the NFL.”
He leans forward, his expression pinched. “Which brings me to how I found out about your dad being the one who helped Kyle.”
I can't help myself, my immediate response is to defend my father. “Listen, Preston. My father is an addict and a drunk who on his best days can't even manage to tie his shoes. I highly doubt he was part of Kyle's blackmail. He's not smart enough to do something like that.”
“But he is greedy enough.” He stands up again. “Or at least that's what he was hollering about in his drunken state at the bar that night. Cursing up a storm about how some faggot stopped paying him his money and that he was going to get even.”
It's my turn to stand up. “He could have been talking about anyone.”
He rests his hands on his hips. “You know, I thought that too. I mean, addicts aren't exactly reliable.” He cocks his head to the side. “Unless you give them what they want so they spill.”
I match his stance. “You just said it yourself, addicts are unreliable. He could have been baiting you.” I cross my arms over my chest, ignoring the crater of suspicion gnawing at me. “But tell me what happened at the bar. Also, how were you allowed at a bar anyway? You're only 19.”
He makes a face. “I'll be 20 in a few weeks. Besides, I've had a fake I.D since I was 16. Not to mention, everyone knows who my father is.” He looks embarrassed. “I was at that piece of shit bar after I lost my first bet with a bookie. You know, Dragoni's family.”
“Yeah, kind of hard to forget that shitstorm you put your brother through.”
His jaw locks. “You wanna hear the truth or not?”
When I gesture for him to continue, he says, “I was throwing a few back when I saw the owners tossing your father out of the bar for not paying his tab.”
“Sounds about right,” I mutter.
“Curiosity got the best of me because he kept shouting that it wasn't his fault that his business partner wasn't paying him anymore.” He laughs. “It probably makes me a shitty person, but I found it funny as hell because not only is your father the epitome of a loser, but who in their right mind would ever do business with him.” He shrugs. “I wanted to find out, so I walked outside. He thought I was Asher at first and told me to tell my boyfriend to pay up, or else. That's how I knew something wasn't quite right. Asher and I had lost touch while he was at Duke, I really had no idea what was going on in his life back then.”
A look of regret sweeps over his face. “When I offered your dad a few hundred bucks, he spilled the beans about Kyle approaching him a few years back and how there was a lot of money to be made for setting Asher up. He said he agreed without any hesitation.”
My mouth falls agape. “No, he wouldn't—”
“Kyle told Asher that he had an accomplice,” he says, cutting me off. “Someone who would go public with the tape if Asher hurt Kyle or spoke. All your father had to do was give it to the right person. Doesn't take much brains to do that.”
He looks away. “I tried to warn Asher after that conversation at the bar, but I was too late. A few hours later the video was in circulation and there was nothing I could do but be there for him. I didn't tell him about talking with your father or about my suspicion that you had something to do with it because I wanted him far away from you. I was trying to protect him like he'd always done for me. I was afraid that once I brought you or your father up, it would sever whatever string he was barely hanging on to and you'd sink your claws into him again while he was at his lowest—and God only knows what else you people would do to him then.”
He lifts a shoulder. “That and I was afraid he wouldn't believe me in the first place and hate me for accusing you.” Slowly, his eyes find mine again. “I know you want to defend your dad, Breslin. Believe me, I get it. I know all about what it's like to have an asshole for a father and still crave his love. But you wanted to know the truth...and that's it.”
My heart thunders against my ribs and bile works up my throat. I don't know which slams into me first—overwhelming sadness or betrayal. Turning on my heels, I start walking toward the exit and down the hall. I'm in such a daze I barely register all the commotion going on.
That is until I come face to face with the last person I ever expected to see again.