Page 95 of Gravity

“He doesn’t even know when the funeral is!” I roar. Taking a deep breath, I drop my head between my shoulders. I need to calm down as the burn of my own emotions for Pete and the void that he’s left claw at my chest.

Lowering my voice, I say the words we both know are true. “When you called Jackson and asked him to bring Asher back, nothing was arranged for Pete then. You know that as much as I do. For all Asher knows, his dad could be in the ground already.”

Silence settles around us as I continue to look out of the window to regain my breathing. It’s funny how a place like Chesapeake can look so bright and sunny on a day like today when I feel anything but that inside.

“The question is, what do you want to do now? Because I think it’s time Fiona and Nora know what’s going on.”

I close my eyes. I don’t like this one bit. How do you even tell someone that their son or brother clearly doesn’t want to come home and say goodbye or pay his respects to a man he once looked up to because he’s most likely getting shitfaced in a bar someplace else.

Fucking bastard.

I know he can be selfish. I know his head isn’t in the game and hasn’t been for a while. I know of late that when Asher is troubled, he’s driven more to drink, and this is clearly his only escape. But this. I never thought he’d do this—not to the family and the sister he’s always so eager to protect. Where is his protection now when she needs it the most?

But Mark is right, I can’t say nothing anymore. I need to tell them what’s going on. But I hate the fact it’s me who’s going to shatter their hearts that are already broken at the expense of my friend who clearly can’t see the importance of family right now.

With a heavy exhale, I let the words fall out of my mouth, knowing that everything will change once I’m home. “I don’t want to give them anymore heartache than they already have. But you’re right, it’s time they knew.”

* * *

As I enter the tree house, the anxiety in my chest eases when I see Nora sleeping amongst the beanbags. She looks so peaceful, but I can see from her pale face and red eyes that she’s been crying again while I’ve been gone. Makenna has not long left and said that Nora had been asking for me, and I loathe myself for not being here.

After my conversation with Mark and the news of Asher, I’d decided to take some time out and went to the beach to clear my head, trying to work out how I was going to tell her about Asher.

Walking over to her, I lower myself onto the beanbags to lay beside her, placing Scuttle between us because I know it gives her comfort. Her delicate breathing brushes against my face as I move close to her, stroking her nose like I love doing.

I love her so much it hurts, and I can’t wait for the moment to tell her, but today is not it. I can’t break her with one bombshell then try and patch it back together with my adoration.

When her eyes flutter open, her fatigued gaze holds mine. I long to see the spark that was once in it. Her skin is pale, and dark circles are cast under her eyes from exhaustion. But even in the evidence of her struggles, she is still beautiful to me.

“Hey,” I murmur, stopping stroking her nose and instead moving to stroke her hair. “You okay?”

She nods, and I feel her hands move before her eyes fall between us.

“I have Scuttle,” she whispers.

“I thought it would give you comfort while you slept.”

“How long have you been back?”

“A while. I’ve been talking with Makenna. She didn’t want to leave you until I was back as your mom is out.”

“Any word on Asher?”

The blade of guilt slices my stomach in two with her question, and she instantly sees my reaction that I failed to hide.

Fear clouds her eyes, and I sense her grip tighten on Scuttle. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Panic causes her to sit up before I can even try and reassure her as fresh tears fill her eyes. “Tell me, Grayson. What’s happen to him?”

“Nothing. Asher is fine.” As I face her, the heaviness in my chest almost crushes me as the words leave my mouth. “But I do need to tell you something. And you’re not going to like it.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Scrubbing my hand over my face, I look at her straight on, hoping she can see in me the weight of what I have been carrying—not because I want sympathy, but because I need her to know how much I fucking hate this.

“Asher is still in California. Jackson is trying to get him home, but it doesn’t look like he’s wanting to come back just yet.”

She stands, shaking her head as she starts to pace the wooden floor of the tree house. “No. No. You’ve got it wrong. Why would he do that?”

I can’t say I don’t know because I damn well fucking do know, but how can I tell her that?