Chapter 8

Asher

I told myself countless times that it would be like seeing an old friend again. That's all. An old friend. But now, it's like it was all for nothing. I don't know how I'll cope with this.

Reece lifts his eyes to mine. He needs to look up three inches. The tilt of his face always made me feel protective of him. I wanted to always be the one to keep him from whatever tried to hurt him.

His forehead creases in a frown and his mouth opens. Nothing comes out. Between us there had been no secrets. We kept plenty of secrets, yes. But not between us. Now, as if a thousand miles and eleven years never existed between us, he looks up at me like I can fix whatever has broken in his life these last several years.

"Asher." His voice is a croak, a shadow of the loud, free boy he'd been when it was just the two of us.

I gather air into my lungs, pulling in deeply to steady my heart. "Hello, Reece."

Another attempt to calm the thump thump thump inside my chest. Easy, Asher. Nothing has changed between now and ninety seconds ago. "Come in," I say with a strong, confident voice.

I step aside, and Reece Carter steps back into my life.

Now that he's here, I realize it should've felt more epic. A happy reunion. A hug, maybe. Because we really are old friends seeing each other again after a long time.

And if not that, then maybe there should've been more anger. He's a Carter, after all, and I owe it to my parents to refuse to have anything to do with any of them.

But . . . this is Reece. My mother's favorite, and all there is, is a suffocating yearning for an innocence we will never again have.

Inside, he stares at the wooden floor, clutching his suitcase close to his body. His dark brown hair curls over his forehead. It's not as long as he used to keep it but still long enough to notice how curly his hair can get when left to grow out. He still wears a diamond earring in one ear.

Remnants of youth remain strongly on his face. Soft pink lips. Deep brown eyes – sometimes almost black under the right lighting – that dip downward at the outer corners. The feature gave him a permanent sad-boy look, dispelled only when his eyes sparkled with happiness and his cheeks lifted with his smile. His soft features have sharpened over the years. His jaw, more pronounced. His high cheekbones are more defined. His nose, straight and perfect. His flawless tan skin, thanks to his mother's genes, should be illegal, I always told him.

He's filled out too. Broader. Slightly heavier. Lightly muscled, from what I can make out through the jeans and black jersey he's wearing.

Well. I'm the host. I'd better start acting like one. "May I take your luggage? I can leave it in the hall."

Reece clears his throat. His unwillingness to look at me is obvious, but he tries. "Yes, thank you."

The awkwardness is unavoidable, even though I've prepared for it. But now that the initial shock is over, I can use my brain more rationally. We're not seventeen anymore. Despite the discomfort, I need to behave like an adult.

"Thank you for agreeing to see me. To you and – and – your . . . husband." He drops his gaze on husband , like he can't stomach the word. I would've been offended on Sawyer's behalf if I didn't know what sadness looks like on Reece's face. He doesn't mean to offend me. He's just lost.

"I prepared dinner. Sawyer will join us later."

He does look at me now, turning his body fully, openly staring. My stomach dips. I set it aside. It's nothing to worry about. The situation is what it is. It was Reece I used to dream of marrying. It was with Reece I came to know true love. We were ripped away from each other without notice.

It's perfectly natural to feel at odds with yourself under these circumstances. Sawyer talked me through all of it only last night. Don't deny yourself your feelings, he said. This needs to be done. It should've been done a long time ago.

"I – I – look forward to meeting him."

"He's a good man. The best person I know." I don't know why I said that last part, but isn't it true? I reach over to take Reece's suitcase, careful not to stand too close to him. I don't know what kind of man Reece has become. I don't know if he might be as good a man as Sawyer is. As of now, Sawyer is the best person I know.

He dips his head, his smile tight. He remains rooted to the spot while I wheel his suitcase to the hall.

When I return, I offer him a drink and ask him to take a seat in the living room.

"Just water, please," he says, taking a seat on the armchair opposite the sectional.

I grab a bottle of water from the fridge, empty it into a glass and take it to the living room, placing the coaster and glass of water on the side table to his right. "Thank you," he says.

I take a seat across from him. He removes the satchel from around his neck and takes out a glass jar from it. "Prickly pear jam," he says. "Uh, your mom said to never visit someone empty-handed. So – so I got—" He holds the jar out and I reach over to take it. "I hope, uh, Sawyer, likes it too."

"He's never had it before. I'm sure he'll like it. Thank you."

He rubs the palms of his hands over the front of his jean-clad thighs. "Thank you again. For agreeing to see me."

"You said there were things you wanted to tell me. Questions you had? I suppose you're right. Considering – considering the last time we saw each other." The degree of discomfort is fast escalating. The familiarity is at odds with the strangeness of the present moment. I'm not sure how to feel. Looking at Reece, it's hard not to be pulled into the part of our past that didn't hurt.

"Yes. I wanted to tell you that I got married too. Three years ago but we got divorced a few months ago."

"Oh. Okay. I – I'm sorry." I don't know what to say.

"We had a baby."

My heart lifts for him. A family of his own, finally.

Buddy Carter was big on legacy and carrying the family name forward. It was one of the big reasons he refused to accept Reece's sexuality with such absoluteness. I'm happy for him. That he gets his own family, even if he's no longer married.

"She died. Four months ago. She was fifteen minutes old." The outer corners of Reece's eyes dip further down, but he smiles. "She was beautiful. Just like Julie. We never got to see the color of her eyes. She never opened them. We named her Abigail. My father said I'm better off not being a father."

I should express some emotion. Cross the floor and give him a hug. Tell him how sorry I am to hear about his loss.

What rises to the surface instead is an old rage, reserved for Reece's father. The hatred I have for that man, no one will ever understand. Maybe Sawyer. Yes, Sawyer understands. Sawyer knows what it feels like to be looked down upon and treated unkindly because he had nothing. But he chose differently. He used his awful past to build a ladder and climb out of his pain. I covered myself in my hatred like a second skin.

And it's that rage that keeps me motionless in my seat, unable to empathize with Reece. He stares at his hands. Then, when the silence persists, he reaches for his glass of water.

"I'm sorry, Reece," I say finally. How can I keep the softness from my voice? How can I tell him how sorry I am for him without wanting to gather him in my arms and make it go away?

He accepts my sympathies with a small nod of his head. "Julie asked for the divorce before we found out she was pregnant. We tried to make it work after that for the baby. For Abigail. But she knew the truth about—"

My eyes remain on his face. When Reece's father found his journal, he denied everything. It was the first time I truly understood how afraid he was of that man. I denied it too after that, but the evidence was overwhelming. He didn't believe us, but that didn't mean he accepted us.

"I told her the truth. I told her two years after we got married. I came clean with my father too. He still won't accept it."

Pride swells in my chest. "One day he'll be brave," my mother used to say.

"But I don't regret it, you know? Marrying her? We got Abby. It was only for a little while but it still counts, right?"

"Yeah, Reece. It does." He looks so lost. "I'm so sorry for what happened."

He shakes his head. "No. I'm sorry. That was just the backstory. I wanted to give you some context for why I'm here."

"Your daughter can hardly be considered backstory , Reece, but thank you for telling me."

"After you left—"

After I was forced to leave, is what he should have said.

"The last time I saw your mom she said it was for the best that we didn't see each other. All I ever wanted was one last conversation with you. Even if we hadn't been. . . other things . . . we were best friends and I felt so alone. I couldn't deal with the unfinished business, so here I am. I have a few questions if – if that's okay with you."

"Ask them."

"What happened to you when you left? Did you keep playing football?"

"No. I graduated from the local high school. Went to college. Got a degree in Kinesiology and Physical Education, and I coach football now at Linksfield High."

"Why didn't you keep playing? You should've been in the NFL by now. In your prime. Someone would've snatched you up."

I shrug. "I didn't—" How do I tell him that I didn't even want to live after they took me away from him. Every dream I ever had about playing college football meant nothing after that. How do I tell him that I raged and raged for months that people could treat others the way his father treated us simply because he had money. "It was a new school. Less than a year to graduation. Didn't seem worth the effort."

"And the offer from Notre Dame. Did my father really cause you to lose it?"

"A few people told my father off the record. That's all I know."

"And your dad was really fired from my dad's company?"

"Yes. You already know all of this, Reece."

"Yes, but I never heard it from you. Did he hurt you or your parents in any way?"

"Physically? No. But he did real dirt to them. Blackballed my dad so he wouldn't get hired at other construction companies. We left with nothing."

I don't have to tell Reece how much I fought and begged to see him before we left. How I refused to speak to my parents for months after we returned to Iowa. How I didn't want to walk away. I wanted to stay and fight.

It doesn't matter anymore.

None of it means anything now. We got over it. All of us.

"How are they? Your parents."

"My mom lives across town in a nice, gated community. She likes it there. She's doing good."

Reece smiles. "That's good to hear. I really missed her, Ash – Asher."

My throat is thick. For the memories of the smile on his face now? Or is it that he corrected himself after using my shortened name? "Yeah, she missed you a whole lot too."

"And your dad?"

I lock my jaw. "He died, Reece."

It's almost like someone called for a moment of silence. Reece picks at the thread on the glove he still has on with his ungloved hand. When he picks his head up, there are tears in his eyes. I swallow around the thickness in my throat.

"When? How?"

"He got sick. We didn't have enough health insurance. Five years ago."

He blinks his tears away. "I'm so sorry. He would've had good health insurance if he'd still been working for my father."

And then, when the silence becomes too much, and it's clear I can't be trusted to break it, Reece speaks again. "I wish you'd played college football. It was all you ever wanted."

He was all I ever wanted, but like I said – we all got over it.

"I didn't want to live in a world where decisions about my life were made on a golf course by people who would dispose of me at the drop of a hat," I say. "I never wanted to be controlled like that. I'm still involved in the game. I just try to help others now and I look out for them. Teach them to never let people push them around no matter how big and scary they seem."

He drops his gaze, staring at his lap. "I'm sorry for everything, Asher. I'll never forgive myself for making you lose your chance to play football."

"You didn't do anything, Reece. It was your father. I'm smart enough to know the difference. My parents were too. No one blames you."

It was always my job to look out for him. It's one of the things his father loved about me the most before they threw us out. I was a good influence on Reece. He was a better person because he had a best friend like me. Until I became a ‘predator' overnight. A ‘disgrace'. And ‘stay away from my son'.

"He told me that you were safer if I never contacted you again. That if anything happened to you it would be my fault. That's why I never called you."

I laugh. The bitterness in my response can't be helped. "Threats. Yeah. I guess it worked."

"Why didn't you ever call me?"

"Same reason. Your father said he'll throw you out and you'll end up penniless like us if we ever got in contact."

"You seem . . ." Reece says, after he's stared at me for too long.

I give him a curious look.

"Happy."

"I am happy."

"You got over . . . everything."

"Didn't you?" The conversation is getting too personal. I should text Sawyer to tell him to come home early.

Reece doesn't answer. He doesn't need to. Unfinished business , he said just now. He looks like he wants to say something else. I wait him out. Reece will tell you what's on his mind if you're a little patient with him. Most people weren't. Especially his father. Just speak up, his father used to demand.

He spits it out eventually.

"I uh, don't have a job anymore. As of this afternoon. And I'll be broke soon. I have enough money in my bank account to last me a few months. What do you think about – about—?"

He stops. Tries again: "What if I stayed out here and, you know, found some work? I'm an accountant by profession but I'll do any kind of work. Is that a bad idea? I have nothing to go back to now. The house is on the market to be sold and Julie's in California. Abby – Abby – Abby's here with me." He taps his chest lightly.

"You want to move here? Permanently?"

His face is pink. The attractive blush moves all the way to his ears. He lets out a short laugh. "No. No. Of course not. I – I wasn't thinking. That was stupid. I didn't come here to disrupt your life. I'm sorry. I really only just wanted to see you again to talk about the way we left things and to tell you about Abby."

He rises. "I know it's not polite to have come back into your life like this. You have a husband, I know that. I just wanted to get away from Arizona for a while. I'm sorry. I know it sounds like I came here with ulterior motives, but I swear, it's nothing like that. I should go."

Where are my manners? "No. Don't go. I made dinner. Stay. Sawyer will be home soon. I'll set the table."

"Are you sure?" His eyes are filled with worry.

"I'm sure." And then, to get rid of any potential undercurrent, I add, "I don't regret the life I ended up with, Reece. I love Sawyer. He's an amazing man. You'll see when you meet him. And – and he loves me too."

His eyes flash. It's a fraction of a moment but I catch it. He can't fool me, not even after all this time. "I loved you first," he says. There's a bite in his voice but also a hint of defeat. He knows none of it matters now. I loved him first too. I don't think I'll ever not love him. I wouldn't know how. But I love Sawyer too. I love Sawyer now .

He lowers his eyes, but the deadly impact of his words has already smashed through the defensive walls where only Sawyer is allowed. "I'm sorry," he says. "That was inappropriate. Forgive me, Asher."

I give him a curt nod but oh, I remember how beautiful it was to be loved by Reece. So completely and unwaveringly. "Excuse me a second. Let me put this away," I say, holding up the jam jar. I head to the kitchen, set the jam on the counter and send Sawyer a text, asking him to come home. Reece can live wherever he wants. He can move right next door if he wants. What will it change?

We don't talk for the remainder of the time Reece and I are alone in my home. I busy myself between the kitchen and the dining area. The air tinkles with glasses and plates being set up. I watch the back of his head while I work. I don't regret my life. If Reece's father hadn't sent us packing back to Iowa I would never have met Sawyer. And not knowing Sawyer in any version of reality is inconceivable.

But what about all the what ifs that lie so heavily between me and Reece now, in this moment, and all the years before this, before Sawyer, when I pined for the man seated in my living room like a madman, drunk on love? When things hurt us and we can't understand why it has to be that way, we put them at the back of our minds and move on with life, but the questions are still always there.

What if Buddy Carter had just accepted his son? And me?

What if the Notre Dame offer hadn't been taken away?

What if Dad hadn't lost his health insurance? Would he still have been alive?

Sawyer will be here soon, and everything will be fine. We'll have dinner, the three of us, and Reece can stay in Iowa and find work or he can go back to Arizona. Whatever he decides, I'll wish him well and thank him for visiting with us.

Everything will be fine when Sawyer comes home.

.