I appreciate that it’s a statement and not a question.
“Yes.”
“Well, on the worst day of your life, what you need is your people. I know Jules sent you one of your people earlier today.”
“Three of them, actually.”
Rachel nods, smiling. “Those boys have always run in a pack. And have you spoken to your family yet?”
I shake my head slowly. “I haven’t. I didn’t…I mean I can’t…” I blow out a breath, shaking my head before trying again. “I wasn’t ready to tell them yet. I needed to get it straight in my head and work out what comes next for me before I try and explain it to them. Especially over the phone. This is one of those times when it’s really hard to be so far away.”
“You take however long you need, Asher. This is an earthquake right in the middle of your life. It’s going to take some time to get your feet steady under you. Now I love seeing your face, but I know it’s not me you’re here to see. She’s out back. She’s always liked sitting outside when it snows.”
I smile a little at that. “We have that in common.”
Rachel leads me through the kitchen, and when I get to the sliding glass door to the back yard, I see Julie on the covered deck curled up on a couch in front of an outdoorfireplace, staring out at the snow. Even just seeing her from the back, her blonde waves spilling over her shoulders, has my entire body relaxing. My shoulders drift down from where they were hovering somewhere close to my ears, and my jaw unclenches. My fingers stop digging into my palm and my breathing slows.
“Love looks good on you,” Rachel says quietly. “On both of you. I’m glad you found each other. You go ahead out, honey. She’s been waiting for you, and I think you’ve been waiting for her too.”
With that, Rachel pats me on the cheek and leaves the kitchen while I slide open the glass door and step outside.
Julie
I turn as soon as I hear the door slide open. Asher stands in the doorway, and for a few heartbeats we look at each other. His face is sad, but the love in his gaze steals my breath.
“Juliette.” He steps outside and is across the deck and around the outdoor couch where I’m sitting in a few long strides. He doesn’t join me on the couch, but kneels down in front of me, his hands pushing under the blanket I have tossed over my lap to bracket my hips. I lean forward, sliding my hands around his neck, my thumbs drifting over his jaw. He kisses me, soft and gentle, before resting his forehead against mine. We stay that way, breaths mingling in the cold air, bodies warmed by the outdoor fireplace that roars in front of the couch.
“You didn’t go home.” His voice is low, laced with both pain and gratitude, and I’m fascinated by the way I can pick out theseparate emotions in his voice. Yes, I know this man. Every single inch of him. There is a remarkable sort of comfort in that thought, and it settles me down to my core. Right here is the steady, rock-solid kind of love that lasts lifetimes. And it’s mine.
“I couldn’t. The thought of going to my house after spending time in yours wasn’t appealing, and I hated being that far away. Even if you didn’t need me, I liked knowing I was right down the street in case you did. I wanted to stay close to you.”
I’ve barely finished my sentence before Asher’s breath hitches. His eyes slam shut. I can feel his body start to shake with the effort of holding himself together, and watching him try so hard not to break has my own heart breaking.
“I’m going to…I need…I can’t.” His breath is coming in fast pants, and I can feel his heart pounding. Without looking at me, he stands from his crouch to sit next to me on the couch, and I lift up the blanket so he can scoot in closer. I slide an arm around his back and put my other hand on his cheek to turn his face towards me. When our eyes meet, his are covered in a sheen of tears.
“I’m ready fall apart now,” he manages. “I can’t hold it in anymore.”
“You don’t have to hold it in anymore, Asher. You can fall apart right here. It’s just you and me out here, and I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe with me too.”
That’s when he breaks. Tears flood his eyes and spill down his cheeks, and he leans forward, a gut-wrenching sob coming straight from his chest. I guide him sideways, so his head is on my lap, and I hold onto him while he cries. His shoulders shake and his chest heaves as his grief pours out of him. My own eyes water as my strong, funny, always cheerful man cries out his heartbreak at the untimely loss of the game that has meant so much to him and the uncertain future ahead.
I keep one arm locked around him and I stroke my other hand through his hair while he cries, whispering things like, “I’ve got you,” and “let it out.” I don’t know how long we stay like that, Asher’s head on my lap, his tears falling onto the blanket while the snow swirls beyond the deck and the fireplace warms us. Eventually Asher’s sobs quiet and his breathing slows. When he sits up, swinging one leg up on the couch so we can face each other, his eyes are red-rimmed and exhausted. He weaves our fingers together, picking one of my hands up to press a kiss to my knuckles.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Asher. This is part of the deal.”
His mouth quirks up on one side, like he’s trying to smile but can’t quite get there. “Part of what deal?”
“You know, the relationship deal. You sat with me and held me through a panic attack on my office floor when you barely knew me. You helped me face some demons that have haunted me for my entire life. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to help you when you need it. It’s not all road trips and gummy worms and Big Gulps and giant barbershop polls in small town America. Sometimes everything goes to shit and you’re sitting on your office floor thinking you’re going to die or crying your eyes out in the freezing cold in the middle of a snowstorm.”
“If I have to cry my eyes out, I guess doing it outside during a perfect snowfall isn’t the worst way.”
I smile, thinking about that day in my office when he used the snow to distract me from my panic. “I love being outside during the snow. My family thinks I’m crazy, but I’ve been sitting in this exact place watching the snow since I was a kid. It’s the reason my parents covered the porch when I was eight or nine—to give me a place to watch the snow and stay dry. It always makes me feel better, even when things are shit.”
“I love it too. And everything has definitely gone to shit,” he says, with a tiny bit of amusement in his voice. Then he takes a breath and blows it out slowly. “I’m ready to talk about it now.”
“Tell me,” I say, drawing our joined hands into my lap.
