Chapter Twenty-Two

"Archer, are you awake?" I whisper to the darkness.

I sit, listening to the silence for a second before I hear his rough voice. "I'm awake. Is everything okay?" I hear shuffling coming from the floor.

"Yeah, I just can't sleep," I try to laugh so that he doesn't hear the anxiety in my voice. It currently feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest.

"Why? Is something wrong? Too cold? Too hot? Do you need another pillow?" he asks as I see his shadow get up and walk towards the lamp, pillow in hand. He turns it on, flooding the room with light.

"No, my mind just refuses to shut up." I let out a breath.

He looks towards the bed as if waiting for me to invite him to sit down. I pat the spot next to me, giving him the okay. He quickly takes a seat, never taking his eyes off of me.

"What'cha thinking about?" he asks quietly. His voice is still raspy from sleep. Somehow that makes it even sexier than normal. Get it together, girl.

"Just . . . everything," I finally answer. I really want to tell him the truth, about everything, but I'm afraid of his reaction.

"You know, I've been told I'm a pretty good listener. It was my dad that said it but I feel like it still counts," he laughs.

I giggle as I reach my leg out and kick him. Before I can pull my leg back, he wraps his hand around my ankle and grips tightly. I start to wiggle my foot to try to get out of his grasp, but he holds on tighter. He pulls me towards him until our faces are only a few inches apart. My breath catches in my chest.

His eyes are scanning every inch of my face. I try not to squirm under his gaze.

"Tell me," he says in his husky voice that is sending my heart into somersaults.

My eyes drop to his lips for a second before quickly looking back up.

"There's just so much going on right now and, somedays, I feel like I'm going to fold under the pressure," I say in one breath.

I try to read his face, waiting for the typical response that I get from other people. Usually it's about how I should be happy because I'm lucky that I'm living the life that I'm living. That I don't have a right to complain. That I should be thankful for everything I have. That I sound ungrateful to everyone else because people have way less than me.

Those words never come from him though.

Instead, his fingers unwrap from my ankle, and he reaches for my hands, twisting his fingers through mine. He starts to rub his thumb along the back of my hand. With every swipe of his finger, I take a breath, trying to calm myself down.

"I can't imagine how that must feel. I'm sure that you're getting pressure from everyone on everything and no one probably takes a lot of time to check in on you, huh?"

I shake my head but stay quiet, knowing that my voice is going to come out shaky if I try to say anything. I'm just not sure if it's because of how I'm feeling or because of how close he is to me.

"Not to mention everyone wants something from you, right? You kind of alluded to that before," he continues. "It must feel like you never really have any time for yourself."

I nod this time. We sit there for a few minutes before I break the silence again.

"No one gets to know me for me. They just want this perfect image of who they think I should be. Or they ask me questions without actually caring what the answer is. Do you know the last time someone besides my family and Willow have asked how I was doing and actually wanted to know the answer? I'm not even sure it's been so long." All the words come pouring out of me before I can stop them. "It's just been so long since I could really open up to someone and feel safe and comfortable doing so and that's exhausting. I know I have a great support system in my parents and Willow, but it still gets . . ."

"Lonely?"

"Exactly. But I'm not allowed to say that out loud because I have ‘adoring fans that love me.' I'd be accused of being selfish." I drop my head and stare at our intertwined hands.

He reaches up with his other hand and hooks it under my chin lifting my head up until our eyes meet. "It's not selfish. You're human. Everything you're feeling is valid, no matter what your job is and that's what this all is. It's a job. At the end of the day, you're just Alison Quick, and you have a right to feel however you want to feel. No one can negate that. And anyone who tries has no business being in your life."

I continue staring into his eyes in complete awe of this man. This man that showed up into my life unexpectedly. This man that I was so sure was going to ruin my life. This man that I wanted nothing to do with not that long ago.

I never in a million years would've expected I'd be right here, right now, having this conversation with him. In this moment though, I'm so grateful for everything that led me here with him. I smile and give a quick nod. For the first time in so long, I feel seen.

"Thank you for saying that," I say as I lay my head on his shoulder. I want to say more. I want to say what I'm really feeling, but I don't know how.

He kisses the top of my head. "Any time. Like I said, I'm on your team. Always. From here on out, you're stuck with me, whether you want it or not. You can't get rid of me."

I sit up and jokingly punch him in the shoulder. "Oh yeah?"

He just grins at me.

"Well, lucky for you, I've kind of gotten used to your annoying presence now," I say with a completely straight face as I lift up a pillow and hit him in the face with it.

"Annoying? Oh, you haven't even begun to see annoying!" The next thing I know, his hands are on my waist, rolling me to the middle of the bed. He has a knee on either side of my body as he hovers over me. He grabs the pillow from my hands and starts to hit me with it. I'm laughing as I shout at him to stop.

As fun, albeit unexpected, as this is, I can't help but notice that he has absolutely none of his weight on me and the pillow is barely grazing my skin as it hits me. I try not to read into it, but I'm the queen of overthinking and anxiety. Seriously, they should give me a crown.

"Goods secured," Archer announces as he quietly closes the door behind him. "I think I might've woken my dad up, but he pretended he was still sleeping."

"Bless his heart," I answer as I get up off the bed and grab one of the bags from Archer. "I'm starving."

I quickly open the bag and start digging through all of the wrapped leftovers. I hand a few wrapped goodies to Archer. He unwraps one and lets out a moan.

"Steak," he practically growls. "You know," he says, taking a bite out of it like it was a burger. "You bringing this tonight was probably the best idea ever."

I nod my head in agreement, bending over and snagging a quick bite of his steak.

"Hey!" he shouts, pulling away from me. I cover my mouth with my hand and start laughing.

"Sorry, couldn't help it," I say through a mouthful of food. "You made it look so good."

"You're going to pay for that," he responds with a smile as he gently sets the steak in the bag and then turns his body towards me.

He starts to lean over with his arms out like he might attack, but then stops himself mid-move and sits back on the bed. I freeze, unsure of what caused his hesitation.

"Um, anyway," he starts, clearing his throat, and turning slightly away from me. "Tell me something about you that I don't know."

I stare at him dumbfounded for a moment, completely thrown by his random change of pace.

"Uh, well, the first song I ever wrote was . . ." I start.

"Nope, I know that already. Tell me something I don't know. Something that's not in any tabloid. Something about Alison the person, not Alison the popstar." He takes a sip from the can of pop he managed to snag from his dad's room.

"Something no one knows. Hmmmmm." I pause to think for a few seconds. "Well, I've always been a massive bookworm. Even from a young age. I was always reading. When my mom finally let me walk to the local library from my house, it was like she opened the gates of heaven."

I keep my eyes on Archer's face, drawn by his reaction. His eyes are soft and caring. The small smile on his face really could thaw even the most frozen of hearts.

"That summer, I don't think I was ever without a book in hand. It got to the point where my mom was actually yelling at me to go outside and play. Here it was summer vacation and I spent the entire time in my bedroom traveling to far off lands and meeting new people. My parents always encouraged my love of reading, but they also wanted me to get some fresh air. My dad tried to lure me outside by asking me to water our garden while he was at work. So there I was at like seven in the morning, garden hose in one hand, book in the other."

Archer chuckles as he repositions himself on the bed. I can't help but notice he's narrowed the gap between us just a tad.

"Finally, my mom basically tells me I'm grounded and that I need to go outside. I don't think I've ever heard of a kid being grounded and the punishment being to go outside and play. Anyway, I do what she asks but . . ."

"You took the book outside with you didn't you?" Archer chimes in.

"Yup. Grabbed my book and plopped myself on the deck and continued reading my stories."

"What did your mom say to that?" Archer raises his eyebrows.

"Laughed, rolled her eyes, and gave up," I laugh as the memory plays out in my head. "I miss moments like that. Ones that you don't realize at the time are going to stick with you forever." I lower my head. "I miss my parents, too."

Archer rests his hand on my leg. "Don't they come to your shows?"

"They do . . . they try. They used to come to more, but it got hard with them having jobs and a life outside of my career. I totally understand though," I add quickly. "I'm not complaining. I want them to have their own lives as well. Just because I choose this as my career, doesn't mean they have to as well. They would come to all of them if I let them. I put a stop to that after I saw the toll it was taking on them. I don't regret telling them to stop, there are just some days where I really wish they were here. My mom has always been my best friend."

Archer nods, but doesn't say much. He's oddly quiet for him.

"Tell me something I don't know about you," I shoot his question back at him.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," he laughs.

"Something with importance." I turn on the bed so that my entire body is facing his. I cross my legs under me, letting him know he has my complete attention. "Maybe something about your mom? I clearly know your dad." I lightly punch his shoulder, trying to lighten the mood.

"Well, I don't talk about it much, but my mom passed away a few years ago."

My stomach drops. I wouldn't have brought this up if I'd known. "You don't have to talk about it. I didn't know."

"No, it's fine," he cuts me off. "I want to talk about it with you."

He takes a deep breath before he continues. "She was the greatest person I've ever known. She had the biggest heart. The most selfless person I've ever met. I guess her being a nurse made complete sense. Her eyes would light up when she talked about her patients. The same way yours light up when you talk about your music." He taps the bottom of my chin with his finger and pauses for a second before continuing. "When she got sick, I don't think any of us really understood just what that would mean for us. We all just assumed that she'd do the treatment and she'd get better. I don't think any of us could comprehend life without her. Until we had to do just that."

"Archer, I'm . . ."

"It's fine. I'm lucky that I got the years that I got with her. She was always by my side with everything. Even when I started to get into music. When I was nervous about performing, she'd always stand on my . . ." he trails off.

"On your right side," I finish for him as realization hits. "That's why you wanted to stand on my other side. To leave space for your mom?"

He nods but doesn't say anything. It feels like someone punched me in the gut. I spent so much energy hating him at the beginning of all of this. Thinking he was a spoiled brat, for lack of a better term, when in reality, he's still suffering and navigating life without his mom. I can be so dense sometimes.

"Those years were taken away from Juliet," Archer continues, pulling me out of my own thoughts. "She'll never know what it's like to grow up with a mom. And she needs that so bad."

"I think she's very lucky to have you and your dad though. She clearly means the world to you two"

"She does. But I think a girl just needs a mom sometimes." He looks down at his hands. I reach down and wrap mine in his.

"You're right. But you and your dad do so much, I know that doesn't go unnoticed by her." I try to read his face, but he keeps his head down, avoiding eye contact with me.

"I just miss her, you know?"

"I do. I know that I'll never understand the gravity to which you miss your mom, but I understand the surface level of wishing your parent was here."

He nods. Without thinking, I lean forward and rest my head on his shoulders. We keep our hands intertwined as we sit in silence.

"I wish you could've met her. She would've loved you," Archer finally whispers.

"If she is anything like you, I would've loved her too," I answer, a tear rolling down my cheek.