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the prologues
Dakota
He has no idea I’m in town.
This could either be a really bad thing or a really good thing. But either way, something needs to be done. He hasn’t talked to me in over two weeks and something just doesn’t feel right anymore.
I accepted an invitation to watch my best friend get engaged, and that’s why I flew in from North Carolina. But I knew the moment I landed in Colorado that I’d be at the front step of his house the second I got the chance. Though, now that I’m here, I see that his stupid, white Tesla—compliments of daddy’s money—is parked in the garage, which tells me that he’s home, and I just can’t seem to shake the nerves.
Asher and I have been together for almost five years now, engaged for about six months of that. I had to leave Colorado to support my family, and I’ve only been gone for about seven months. I was upset when he didn’t want to make the move to my hometown with me, but I couldn’t blame him too much because he had things going on. Though, I did expect for us to be able to manage a long distance relationship or at least a phone call for crying out loud.
Maybe, if I can calm my shaking and unsteady breathing, us seeing each other again will reignite that spark and he’ll realize that he needs to try a little harder. Especially since he’s been pretty much ghosting me, and I have no idea why. Maybe I can even convince him to move back with me.
I form a fist, tighter than I intend to, and knock as calmly as I can on the front door. The October air sends a chill across my back as the sun sets behind the mountains. I pull my jacket a little tighter as I wait for the door to open, but it never does.
I knock again, mentally berating myself for giving back the key before I left. And this time, I hear something.
Someone.
Does he seriously have people over? I shouldn’t be surprised. Asher has always been known as the party boy in his friend group, which is why they were shocked to see him get down on one knee at my birthday party. No one ever thought he’d be the one to settle down, myself included—even after all the time we’d been together. He was always so content on partying and living off his trust fund, I was genuinely shocked when he actually took the plunge and proposed.
I lean a little closer into the door to see if I can make out the sounds or guesstimate how many people he has in there. Maybe this isn’t the best time. I could come back tomorrow morning, but my flight leaves at noon. And though I’d rather not have this conversation with him while he has a group of friends over, I know it needs to be done now.
As I shuffle to the side, my footing slips and I accidentally fall into the door. To my surprise, it opens and without consciously knowing, I’m welcoming myself into his home.
But when I step inside a bit and look around, I don’t see or hear anything.
Until I do.
Squeaking.
Lots of odious squeaking.
Then…a moan?
Don’t freak out, Dakota.
He loves you, it’s probably just one of his buddies screwing around. Yeah, he wouldn’t do this to you.
But my feet move me before I can think about what I’m doing, because even they don’t trust him enough for me to just stand around and underthink this.
I find myself at the end of the hallway where his room is, where the door is closed, where the noise is coming from.
Squeak, squeak, squeak.
“Yes, right there!” The words echo in a woman’s voice. And my heart drops.
Suddenly, any ounce of courage I had when I made my way to the front door of his house has dissipated now that I’m at the door of his room. This doesn’t feel right.He wouldn’t really do this, would he?
I turn the knob quietly and slowly, not wanting to witness what I’m about to see.
“Please, Asher. Not you,” I whisper to myself as I slide the door open unhurriedly, my eyes squeezed shut as another sex noise surfaces.
That’s when I hear his voice and instantly my eyes are met with his ass. Pounding into another female. The back tattoo is unmistakable. An eagle in mid-flight.
I remember holding his hand as he cried when he got it because it hurt him too much. He said he wanted the eagle for me, told me it’s because I make him feel like he can fly.God, someone stick a fork down my throat.I suddenly feel unmistakably sick. Bile crawls slowly up my burning throat, my stomach flooded with nausea.
Should have gotten a chicken tattooed instead. Seems more accurate considering his ass fled the coop the moment he had that chance.
