Undeniably Asher (The Colloway Brothers Book 2) (32 page)

“Wow, if that’s all it took, I would have asked you to marry me already.”

Her breath catches. “Asher…”

Before she can say another word or protest, I change the subject to what her day looks like tomorrow and move into a comfortable, easygoing conversation for the next hour.

When we hang up, I realize I had it all wrong. I thought Alyse was sent to save me, but now I know it’s the other way around.

We are together because
I’m
supposed save
her
. I can’t wait to have her back in my arms where she belongs. Where she’ll always belong and I can remind her daily of my love and utter devotion to her.

I feel her slipping through my fingers. My original fear of her hurting me rears its ugly head, spewing doubt and suspicion. I can’t let that happen. I
won’t
let that happen.

I don’t want anyone else besides her. When I picture my future, there’s not one scenario that doesn’t include her. I don’t know how, but I know I’m not letting her go this time. I will fight to the death for her, because she’s quickly become my entire world. The only thing that truly matters.

Before I go to bed, I send her a text that I hope conveys I’ve meant every word I’ve ever spoken to her.

Me: give a listen to everything by lifehouse

Several minutes later she responds. Her sassy words warm my insides.

Alyse: dominant, romantic, and sappy? i’ve hit the triple crown

Me: u forgot royalty

Alyse: and egoistical

Me: confidence is not ego, baby. it’s just confidence

Alyse: i love u asher colloway

Me: i love u back alyse kingsley

I go to sleep that night alone, but with a smile on my face and love and hope in my heart.

Chapter 33

Alyse

I sit alone in my darkened apartment, watching the flames dance across the floor and walls. Swirling the glass of bourbon in my hand, I let the tears flow. Once again I celebrated a holiday with the Colloways, and, once again, I had a ringside seat to their happiness, their closeness, their love, their traditions. While Thanksgiving is all about fun, Christmas is all about giving back.

We spent several hours serving meals to the homeless and less fortunate at the Cathedral Shelter of Chicago, to which GRASCO Holdings is also a generous benefactor. They also don’t buy each other gifts, buying toys and clothes that they take to a local women’s shelter instead. It was enough to bring tears to my eyes, because places like that and the generosity of people like the Colloways were sometimes the only way Livia and I
were
clothed.

The entire Colloway clan is still upstairs in Gray and Livia’s penthouse, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I haven’t had a second to myself since I returned on Tuesday night. I’ve been trying my best to pretend I’m holding it together, yet all the while I’m breaking inside. I needed a few minutes alone so I could break on the outside. If I did it in front of anyone, the barrage of questions would return. Questions I have no answers to.

So I told Asher I had a migraine and needed to lie down. Alone. He reluctantly let me, but I expect he’ll be back to check on me, and if he catches me crying, I can at least blame it on the fake pain that’s supposed to be crippling me. The pain is all too real and it
is
crippling: it’s just in my heart, not my head.

Beck is alive. Alive.

The betrayal I feel is indescribable and incomparable to anything else I’ve ever felt, even when I thought he was dead. But the thing that disturbs me even more is the fact that, after seeing him, those old feelings of love have risen to the surface. And that makes me angry…at myself. Now I feel like I’m the one doing the betraying.

What are you supposed to do with the fact that the person you were in love with…what? Faked his death? Thought having a family with you was so repugnant he’d rather you think he was taking a dirt nap than break things off face-to-face? Who does that?

Why aren’t I worthy
? Why am I not deserving of anyone’s love? Why am I not worthy of anyone’s trust? Why did my father not love me enough to sacrifice for me? Why did my mother turn her back on me? Why did Livia desert me for three long years?

This last month with Asher has single-handedly been the best of my life and, until Saturday night, I was even starting to truly believe that maybe I’d found my person. The one who would
really
and
unconditionally
love me, maybe even for the rest of my life, but after seeing Beck, I’m back to doubts and whys again.

Why?

Why?

Why?

No answers. Only questions.

And secrets and lies and hurt and betrayal.

It’s a never-ending vicious circle from which I can’t escape and I’m tired of it. I want off this self-destructing ride. Anger and bitterness and resentment have taken up permanent residence inside me and I want them gone.

I want to
believe
again.

In goodness and integrity and loyalty.

In dreams and hope and love.

In
me
.

I’ve been replaying Cooper’s words since Monday, trying to figure out what I’m going to do.
“There are things you don’t know. Things you don’t understand, and I think if you knew them, you’d see the situation in an entirely different light. He’s…well, he’s suffered just as much as you have, if not more.”

The thought of seeing Beck turns my insides to a ball of knots. I don’t think I can hear what he has to say and even if I would consider it, how can I possibly believe a single word? He’s let me believe all this time he’s been dead, so it’s pretty clear he didn’t want me to know he wasn’t.

On the other hand, how can I move forward with this all this toxic shit swirling inside me like an electrical storm, threatening to obliterate anything and everything in its path? Threatening to ruin what I’ve tenuously built with Asher?

I think back to the five days I spent in the hospital. I remember little about the first two, because the pain meds made my brain fuzzy and sleepy, but I will never forget the words my father told me on day three while he sat on the corner of my bed holding my hand.

“What happened?” Everything hurts like I’ve been run over by a truck or dropped from the top of a building.

“You don’t remember?”

Remember? There’s something trying to work its way into the frontal lobe of my brain, but I can’t quite grasp it. The elusive memory hangs in the dark fringes, trying to protect me. “No. I can’t…”

“We talked about this yesterday. You were in a car accident, sweetheart. You’re lucky to have survived.”

Accident? Car? I try to wade through the sludge that is slowing my brain function down. In retrospect, I wish I didn’t, because the second the memory slams into me, I am hysterical.

Beck.

Baby.

“Beck, Beck, where is Beck?” I cry.

My father looks angry. The tone he uses when he speaks the words that will ruin my future is completely at odds with the look of pure rage on his face. “The driver didn’t make it. Blunt force trauma to the head. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

I’m sorry.

I break. My dad holds me as I soak his shirt with my grief. The entire time, I think the only thing I have left of Beck is our baby. But later that day the doctor asks for privacy. Because I am eighteen, my ‘condition’ hasn’t’ been revealed to my family.

“Alyse, were you aware that you were pregnant?”

Even in my drugged state, I don’t miss the use of the word ‘were.’ I nod, not able to speak through the constriction now shutting off my air supply.

She looks sad, delivering her prerehearsed words with just the right amount of sympathy and sorrow. “I’m sorry to inform you that you miscarried shortly after surgery. Oftentimes the trauma…” She continues to talk, but I stop listening to her words. They are all irrelevant anyway. All that matters in my world is gone. Dead, as if it never existed in the first place. As if these past months never happened.

“I’m sorry,” she says with sympathy before squeezing my hand, leaving me to my own anguish.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

That phrase has to be the most wholly inadequate one in the entire English language, especially when used in conjunction with death. It’s what we say, because there’s nothing even created that could possibly ever be sufficient, but it doesn’t take away the debilitating pain piercing your very soul. Only time does that, turning that debilitating agony into something you can at least bear without a knifing burn each time you take a breath.

I hear the scrape of the door and quickly swipe the lingering tears, hoping my puffy eyes and splotchy face will be hidden in the darkness. My back is to the door. I don’t turn, fully expecting my visitor to be Asher, but it’s not.

It’s Barb Colloway.

“Hi,” she greets carefully, taking a seat beside me. She looks at my face and to my glass. “How’s the headache?”

I’ve never had a migraine in my life, and somehow I think Barb knows I made up an excuse to escape. That makes me feel even worse.

“Lingering,” I settle for. It’s not entirely untrue. I’ve had a stress headache for five solid days. “Thank you for checking on me, Barb.”

“My pleasure, dear. Asher wanted me to take his spot in their annual game of Monopoly so he could come down and check on you, but I don’t play games with my boys. Haven’t since they were little.”

I chuckle. “Too much testosterone?”

“Something like that,” she says with a wink. She regards me quietly for a few moments. “Is it all right if I stay awhile?”

“I think I’d like that,” I nod, genuinely meaning it. Barb Colloway is a magnificent woman. I can easily understand how her children love her so much. The first time I ever met her, she was so highly regarded by her kids, even at an age when children don’t always appreciate their parents, I expected to see her walking on water. She wasn’t, but seemed to walk on air instead.

I can’t imagine there’s anything that would ruffle that woman’s feathers.

“Maybe I can snag a glass of that, too?”

“It’s straight bourbon.”

“Even better.”

“Barb, you badass.” Chuckling, I jump up and pour two fingers over ice, handing it to her before retaking my seat.

“I’ve been known to have my moment or two,” she quips.

“Are you excited about the wedding?” I ask after a few moments of silence, because now I feel like I need to make small talk.

“Very,” she smiles. “Livia’s always been like a daughter to me. She and Gray are perfect for each other. Always have been, so I’m glad to see they’re finally getting their happy beginning.”

“Happy beginning. I like that.”

“I only wish Frank could be here.”

“I can’t imagine how hard it is for you,” I say softly. I refrain from saying I’m sorry, because…well I think we covered that before.

She doesn’t reply, but she doesn’t have to. The love I witnessed between Barb and Frank Colloway, even the few times I spent with them in my teenage years, was palpable and had an impact on me even then. I wanted what they had. I’d never seen anything like it, not that I had any role models in the ‘endless love’ category growing up.

We both watch the fire and sip our cocktails in comfortable peace for a while before she breaks it.

“You know, my boys do everything fiercely, but when they fall in love, it’s with their whole entire being. They give everything they have, everything they are. Just as they do with everything else in life. They don’t know any other way.”

My gaze slides to her profile, knowing this conversation has now turned from Gray and Livia to Asher and me.

“I believe once you find that one special person, you know it immediately.”

She turns, holding my stare. I’m hanging on every word, wondering what she’s going to reveal next.

“I knew immediately when Gray met Livia that something in him had changed. There was a twinkle in his eye and lightness to his step that wasn’t there before. Happiness radiated from him at the sheer mention of her name.”

She pauses. I realize I’m holding my breath in anticipation. Of what, I’m not sure.

“I’ve seen the same thing in Asher recently.”

I can’t help the small smile that curls my mouth.

“I’ve never seen him as happy as he is with you, Alyse. Not with anyone.”

“I’m in love with him,” I confess thickly. I haven’t told another person, except Asher of course, how I feel about him and now I just blurted it out to his mother of all people. But it feels right. This is a conversation I’ve imagined having a hundred times with my own mother. Talking about boys and love and heartbreak. I want Barb to know how much I do love her son, even if everything else around me feels like it’s falling apart and makes no sense.
That
is one thing I know with absolute certainty.

“But?”

I’m momentarily taken aback. I’m not sure how to respond. Barb has to be one of the most perceptive people I’ve met. Now I know exactly where Asher gets it. I look down, embarrassed. “No one I love stays around too long, I’m afraid.”