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“Home sweet home,” I agree, forcing a smile that feels brittle on my lips. I join him inside the cabin and we both wash up best we can. He then pushes me down on a chair, then calmly proceeds to make some tea even though I tell him there’s no need for him to bother.
”You’ve been through a lot,” he murmurs. ”First time you’ve seen a dead body?”
My intestines twist and I silently nod. ”You?”
But the teapot whistles and he forgets to answer, pours me my cup then fetches blankets and pillows. ”Drink your tea,” he rasps and kisses my forehead, his lips soft and warm. ”It’ll make you feel like yourself.”
Part of me wants to sink into his care, to let go of the uncertainty that gnaws at me. But another part of me remains on edge, unable to shake the suspicion that Asher isn’t telling me everything.
I cradle the warm mug of tea in my hands, watching Asher move about the cabin. His demeanor is relaxed, too relaxed after what we’ve just been through. I try to act as if everything’s fine yet, beneath the surface, my mind races with unanswered questions.I take a sip of tea, the soothing warmth spreading through me.
Asher joins me at the table, his eyes searching mine with concern. “Cat got your tongue,” he observes softly. ”You’re usually not this quiet.”
“I… It’s not every day you witness a bloodbath,” I murmur, avoiding his gaze.
He reaches across the table, taking my face in his hand. “I understand,” he says quietly. “But I need you to know—I never would have brought you here if I had known that would’ve happened .”
I don’t doubt that. What I doubt is his explanation of what went down in the shed.
“I know,” I reply but I avert my eyes and squirm my face out of his grip. The warmth in his eyes fade, smile turning frozen and suddenly I struggle to breathe. Things have changed between us, and I think it’s because someone here is not telling the truth. And that someone is a man I’ve put all my faith and trust in.
8.
Asher
I watch Solange from across the table, her quiet demeanor niggling at me like a persistent ache. Her eyes are distant, her replies barely audible. My annoyance simmers beneath the surface, frustration mounting as I struggle to understand what’s going through her mind.
“Alright,” I finally break the silence, my voice tinged with concern when I can’t take it anymore. “What’s wrong?”
She looks up, meeting my gaze briefly before lowering her eyes again. “Nothing,” she whispers.
But I know better. I’ve seen the doubt flicker in her eyes, the suspicion that I’m not being entirely honest with her. It stings, this lack of trust, and my frustration boils over into a surge of emotion.
”Tell me what I’ve done wrong and I’ll fix it,” I say, my throat burning like acid and I feel as if things are escalating out of control.
”Ash…,” she begins, her voice too frail, too lacking in the feelings I know she has for me. Even if she’s trying to bury them.
“You’re mine.” The words spill from my lips before I can stop them, my voice thick with raw emotion. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”
She freezes, her cup suspended halfway to her lips. Her expression is unreadable, a frozen mask that pierces through me like a knife. I reach across the table, my hand trembling slightly as I seek to bridge the distance between us.
But when my fingers brush against hers, she flinches, pulling away as if she doesn’t want my touch. Hurt flares within me, a bitter knot forming in the pit of my stomach. I withdraw, my heart sinking as I realize the depth of her mistrust.
“I… I should start dinner,” I mutter, my voice thick with disappointment. I rise abruptly from the table, needing to escape the suffocating tension that hangs between us. She’s still in the kitchen with me and yet I feel alone. Lonely.
Solange remains silent, her gaze fixed on the chair where I just sat The rejection weighs heavily on me as I turn away from her and grab a knife. The sound of chopping vegetables fills the air and I clench the back of my teeth. There’s a bitter taste on my tongue-bitter as fuck-and it’s there because she rejected me.
And all I’ve ever wanted is to protect her.
***
Solange
The sound of a knife cutting through vegetables, makes my senses on high alert, every nerve tingling with unease. Asher’s attempts at making dinner causes a clatter of pots and pans to rattle in the pressed silence. I watch him from the corner of my eye, his movements slow and measured as if he’d rather be doing something else, but I don’t offer to help. I can’t focus on mundane tasks when my mind is racing with suspicions.
He’s stopped trying to make small talk with me at least, sensing that I’m trying to put distance between us. I rise, roaming aimlessly around the cabin, my eyes scanning the familiar surroundings as if seeing them for the first time. Coming here I didn’t really know who I was coming here with, and I didn’t care-because I blindly trusted him but now I wish I’d been more cautious. Asked more questions. My fists clench.
What happened in that shed?
