Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

HARPER

“ O kay, I want you to sit right there.” He points at a kitchen stool before heading to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of Rosé. He opens the bottle, pours me a glass, and hands it to me.

I laugh, “Asher cooking for me and bringing me wine? This is not a normal night.”

He starts pulling food items from the fridge then grabbing pans and knives.

“Well, maybe this should be our new normal. I don’t really have any experience with doing normal friend stuff. Let’s be honest, my friendships usually involve…well, not this. I told you earlier I want to be friends with you. So, I’m thinking maybe I can share with you something I like doing, which is cooking.” He turns around, giving me a dazzling smile.

Part of me wants more than friends, but part of me is content with this right now. I watch him move through the kitchen so skillfully in the kitchen. “You know, I still can’t believe you cook. You don’t really seem like the kinda guy to know how to zap a burrito in the microwave, let alone actually cook from scratch.”

“My childhood wasn’t all bad. We had this housekeeper, Janice—sweet lady—and I was left alone with her a lot. I used to watch her cook; she was masterful the way she did it. She realized how much I loved watching her cook and bake, so she started teaching me.” He smiles as he talks like he’s reliving a happier time, and that makes me smile right back. It’s nice to know Ash had a few good moments growing up.

“So where is she now…”

He turns around, “She died last year, cancer. Even in her final days, she was so positive. She kept talking about how it was okay because she was getting to see her husband again. He died when I was a kid. He had a heart attack and never made it to the hospital. She moved into the house full-time after that, and I think it helped me, keeping her company. She helped me through a lot.”

“You think that’s true? That she’s, I dunno, up there somewhere with her husband.”

“I don’t know, but I like to think whatever comes next, they’re together. I like to think I’ll see Ellie again one day.”

“I know you will.”

He turns back, cutting up some vegetables and throwing them in the pan while he starts cutting up the chicken.

“So, what comes after the food?”

“Well, that’s up to you. What would you like to do? I know we’re kind of limited in our options right now, but the choice is yours all the same.”

“How about a movie?”

He nods as he tosses the chicken into a sizzling pan. “Sure.”

I watch him in silence for the next few minutes as he prepares the food.

It feels surreal. A couple of weeks ago, I was there, not knowing if I would die and today, I’m watching the man I thought hated me cook me dinner. It’s funny how quickly things can change. I run my thumb over the bruises on my wrist. A constant reminder of what happened to me. I wish they would fade already—that all the bruises and marks would fade. I catch glimpses of him looking at me, his concern in his eyes as he sees this poor, broken, and bruised girl in front of him. The same way I feel when I look into the mirror or when I breathe too quickly and feel the pain in my ribs. The dull ache of the marks they left.

Fingers wrap around mine and stop me rubbing the bruises on my wrist. I look up and see him.

“Where did you go just then?”

“What do you mean?”

“I see you disappear sometimes. I know you get flashes, that you feel like you’re still with those men. Did you get one just now?”

I shake my head. “No, I was just wondering when these bruises will fade. It’s hard to move on when you see them every day.”

He lifts my wrist to his lips and kisses them lightly. “I don’t see them.”

“No? How about this mess on my face?”

His hands go to my waist as he effortlessly lifts me onto the kitchen island so we’re at eye level. His fingers caress my face lightly.

“Nope, I can’t see anything.”

I tilt my neck back. “How about this?” Showing him the faded bruise from a handprint from being choked.

His fingers very slowly and very gently wrap around my throat. “There’s nothing there, Harper.” My breath quickens, but not in fear. I know he wouldn’t hurt me.

“You don’t have to lie…” I say shakily.

His hands move, cupping my face gently and he forces me to look at him.

“I’m not lying, Harper. All I see is a beautiful, strong woman in front of me. I see a woman who, despite the past, is still standing and I’m in awe of her.”

“Ash…” My fingers clasp around his wrist. He’s sweet, but I know what he sees. I know he sees the past haunting me.

“No, baby, you are beautiful and the scars you carry only make you even more gorgeous.”

“I…” I trail off, a little overwhelmed with emotion.

Please don’t let this be a game—my heart can’t take it.

His eyes drop to my lips and two heartbeats pass before he looks back into my eyes.

“You are not broken, Harper—you are not bruised and marked. You are a fucking warrior, a queen amongst us mortals. Don’t ever think any differently.” He wipes the tear on my cheek away. “Promise me you’ll start believing that.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

I can see conflict in his eyes and then he drops his hands, nods, and turns away. I feel a bit of disappointment. He does care but it’s not the same as what I feel for him. He wants us to be friends. He wants to look after me, to be my protector, but it’s not the same as love and I can’t blame him for that because as much as he tells me I’m a warrior, they’re empty words. He could never want a broken girl like me.

I take a sip of my wine, quickly brushing another tear away so he doesn’t see. He wants us to be friends, and as hard as that is right now, I need all the friends I can get.