Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Asher

I step off the plane, the familiar hum of LAX enveloping me in its chaotic embrace.

The smell of jet fuel and fast food mingles as I weave through the crowds, my heart pounding with anticipation.

It's been a week since I last saw Polly, and every minute since I've been away from her feels like an eternity.

"Taxi!" I shout, waving down one of the yellow cabs lined up outside the terminal.

The driver nods, and I slide into the backseat, rattling off my address.

"How long you in town for?" he asks, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.

"Just a couple of days," I reply, staring out the window as the city blurs by. "Here to see my daughter."

"That's nice," he says, turning his attention back to the road. "Family's important."

"Yeah," I mutter, feeling a pang of guilt twist in my gut.

I haven't told Rachel about running into Polly.

I sure as hell haven't told her about what we did. But I can't keep it inside any longer. I need answers.

I need to know why she told me what she did, which is why I invited her over to the house. I shoot her a quick text and let her know I'll be back home within the hour.

The traffic isn't too bad and we pull up to the house. I hand the driver a wad of bills before stepping out onto the sidewalk.

I make my way to the gate that blocks off my driveway and input my key code. Within a few seconds, the gate's opening.

I don't waste any time getting in the house and plop on the couch, grateful to be home.

But, while I sit here I can't help but think about what Polly said. It keeps repeating in my mind, and I'm going to grill Rachel the first opportunity I can.

I sit back and close my eyes, hoping to relax for a little while until Rachel gets here. But, relaxation doesn't last long.

The front gate buzzes, signaling she's here.

I fumble for my phone, just to make sure it is Rachel.

Unfortunately, some fans know where I live and I have had to deal with stalkers in the past.

Thankfully, Rachel's car fills the screen.

"Hey," I say into the intercom button on my phone, trying to sound casual. "I'm buzzing you in right now."

"Okay, cool." Rachel replies as I click the button to allow her access.

Only a couple of minutes later she walks in, Tilly in her arms, all sunshine and smiles.

My eyes lock onto my daughter, a small smile breaking through my stressed demeanor.

It's like she doesn't feel the weight of what's going on between me and her mom hanging over us. I envy that. I really do.

Tilly's chubby arms reach out toward me, and I feel a tug at my heartstrings.

"Hi, Tilly-Bear," I say softly, taking her into my arms. Her giggle music to my ears. "Missed you so much."

"She missed you too," Rachel says, her tone neutral but her eyes revealing the chaos underneath.

She shifts uncomfortably, glancing around the modern mansion that feels more like a cold museum than a home.

"Want something to drink?" I offer, trying to keep things civil. "Coffee? Water?"

"Water's fine," she replies, following me into the kitchen.

The silence between us is almost deafening, broken only by Tilly's babbling.

I set Tilly down on the floor with some toys and grab a bottle of water from the fridge, handing it to Rachel.

Our fingers brush, a fleeting contact that sends a jolt through me, but it's not a good kind. Instead, it reminds me more of anxiety.

She takes a sip, watching me over the rim of the bottle.

"How have you been?" she asks, her voice softer now, almost hesitant.

"Busy," I admit, leaning against the counter. "But good. How about you?"

"Same," she says, glancing at Tilly who is engrossed in her toys. "She's growing up so fast."

"Yeah," I agree, my eyes softening as I watch Tilly. "Too fast."

"Are you—" Rachel starts, but then hesitates, biting her lower lip. "Are you seeing anyone?"

The question hangs in the air, loaded and heavy.

My mind flashes back to Polly, to the electric connection we still share despite everything. But I push those thoughts aside.

"Not really," I say finally. "Just focusing on work and Tilly."

Rachel shifts nervously, "How have the shows been going?"

"Great," I reply, forcing a smile. "Crowds are insane. Sydney's tour got extended, so I'll be in and out of LA for a while."

She looks at me, something sad flickering in her eyes. "So, you won't be around much?"

She takes a seat a few feet away from me, and I think this is the perfect opening.

I take a deep breath. "No, I won't. It's why I want to spend some time with Tilly while I'm here. Maybe take her to the park or something."

"That sounds nice," Rachel says, her eyes meeting mine. There's something there—regret, maybe? But it's gone before I can fully grasp it.

"Rachel," I start, my voice low, serious. "Rach, I need to know something," I begin, my voice low and urgent. "What you said to me all those years ago about Polly... why did you say that?"

Rachel's eyes widen in surprise, and she shifts uncomfortably in her seat. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb with me, please," I snap, the frustration boiling over. "You told me she went willingly into that bedroom with that guy. Why?"

"Because that's what I saw," Rachel retorts, crossing her arms defensively. "She looked pretty willing to me. Why are you even bringing this up now? What does it matter?"

"Don't play dumb," I scoff. My fingers tighten around the edge of the kitchen counter. "I ran into Polly at a show last week."

"Polly?" Her tone is dismissive, almost mocking. "So what? That was years ago."

"Yeah, it was." My chest tightens as I recall the conversation. "She didn't willingly go into that bedroom with that guy."

"Well, she wasn't," I say, my voice trembling with anger. "She was drugged and raped, Rachel. If I had known I would never have done anything the way I did."

Rachel's eyes meet mine again, and there's a pain there that I haven't seen in years. "You mean you wouldn't have been with me, or had Tilly."

"That's not what I meant," I say, closing my eyes briefly to collect myself. "I don't regret our time together or having Tilly. But I wish I had known the truth. I made choices I can't take back."

"Save it, Asher." She stands up and goes over to Tilly, lifting her up and placing her on her hip, her eyes cold. "Go run back to Polly if that's where you want to be."

"Wait," I say, stepping forward as she turns away. "What about my time with Tilly?"

"Your attorney will be hearing from mine." She doesn't look back as she heads for the door.

"Rachel, wait!" I call after her, desperation creeping into my voice.

She hesitates for a second, but doesn't turn around. Tilly's small head peeks over her shoulder, her innocent eyes wide and confused.

My chest tightens, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Rachel pauses at the door, her hand on the knob.

She takes a deep breath and finally looks back at me.

Her eyes are cold, shielded by a wall of anger and betrayal that I've never seen before. "My attorney will reach out to yours, Asher. I think it's best everything go through them from this point on."

With those words, she opens the door and steps out, leaving a gaping void in her wake.

The silence that follows is deafening.

I stand there, feeling like the ground has been pulled out from under me.

The mansion, once a symbol of success and security, now feels like an empty shell.

I slump down onto the nearest chair, running a hand over my head.

The weight of what just happened crashes down on me.

Rachel's parting words echo in my mind, each syllable a stab to the heart.

There's no mistaking what's going to happen between us—custody battles, legal fees, and more time away from Tilly than I can bear to think about.

All because I didn't choose my words wisely. Fuck.

And Polly... The thought of her brings a fresh wave of confusion and regret.

If only I'd known the truth back then, maybe none of this would have happened.

But now, it feels like too little, too late.

I look around the room, taking in the luxurious furnishings, the state-of-the-art technology, the sweeping views of Los Angeles.

None of it matters. Not without my daughter, not without some semblance of peace with Rachel.

I grab my phone and stare at the screen, contemplating calling Polly, trying to make sense of it all. But what good would that do?

She's part of the past, a chapter I thought I'd closed. Yet here I am, haunted by ghosts I can't seem to escape.

"Dammit," I mutter under my breath, tossing the phone onto the couch.

I bury my face in my hands, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

I was supposed to see Tilly, spend time with her, maybe even find a way to mend things with Rachel.

Instead, I've managed to tear everything apart even more.

"How did it get to this point?" I whisper to the empty room.

There's no answer, only the oppressive silence that seems to mock me.

I have to figure this out. For Tilly's sake, for my own sanity. But right now, all I can do is sit here and try to make sense of the mess I've created.