Chapter 110: Asher
It’s been half an hour since anyone last interrogated me.
They’ve moved on–back to talk of the trip. Sleeping arrangements. Weather forecasts. Who’s driving which car. Someone brought up snacks and now there’s a debate about trail mix versus kettle chips. The usual noise.
I’ve said maybe three words in the last twenty minutes.
No one seems to notice.
Except her.
Or–they would. If she were awake.
Penny’s curled up against Tyler’s side, head on his shoulder, eyes closed, lips parted just slightly.
She fell asleep maybe five minutes ago. No one really noticed at first.
But I did.
Her hand went still on the edge of the blanket. Her lashes stopped fluttering when people laughed. She stopped blinking.
And then she drifted.
My’eyes haven’t left her since.
“Oh, poor thing,” my mom says, catching sight of her. “She must be exhausted.”
Tyler looks down at her, like he’s surprised to find her asleep.
“I’ll wake her,” he says, already adjusting his arm to move.
But Penny’s mom shoots up from her seat like someone lit a match under her.
“Wait, honey–no. Let’s not wake her.”
She turns toward me.
“Asher, would you mind bringing her upstairs?”
Tyler frowns slightly. “I can lift her too.”
“Of course you can,” she says sweetly. “But I want you to show me those photos of the cabins you mentioned earlier. You said you saved them, right?”
That’s all it takes.
Tyler lights up, pulling out his phone. “Yeah, yeah–here, I’ll AirDrop you the folder. You’re gonna love this one spot-”
“Asher?” my mom says, smiling. “Would you?”
I nod once. “Yeah. I got her.”
Tyler glances at me. “Thanks, bro.”
They’re already bent over his screen by the time I stand.
I cross the room quietly, kneeling beside the couch where she’s tucked against him. I lift the blanket first, slow, careful, trying not to let the air wake her.
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Chapter 110: Asher
She doesn’t stir.
One arm under her back, the other under her knees.
1 lift.
She folds into me effortlessly. Weightless. Warm. Her head falls slightly against my chest, breath soft against my neck.
No one watches me leave.
They’re too busy laughing about the angle of the hot tub view.
“I’ll be back,” I murmur, though no one hears it.
I carry her through the hallway, past the quiet hum of the dishwasher, and up the stairs in the dark. My foot nudges the door to her room open.
It gives easily.
The room is quiet, dimly lit from the hallway light behind me. I step in and nudge the door closed behind us with my foot.
Then I walk to her bed and lower her down gently, letting her head find the pillow. Her brows twitch slightly, a tiny frown, but she doesn’t wake.
I crouch at the foot of the bed.
Slide her socks off one by one, her toes wiggling in her sleep. I lift her legs just enough to pull the blanket out from under her, tuck it around her carefully.
Then I sit there.
Just for a second.
Her face is turned slightly toward me. The bruising on her temple is still there. I don’t know what was expecting, it’s not like it would go away in twenty- four hours. But I was hoping. Her hair fans across the pillow, still damp from that long shower she probably took earlier. I stare at it – at her I should.
longer than
I reach out.
Brush a strand of hair behind her ear.
Then let my fingers linger for just a second longer.
She’s so soft.
I clench my jaw and force myself back.
One last look.
Then I rise. Quiet as I can. I cross the room, hand on the doorknob.
One final glance.
Then I open the door.
And I walk back down the stairs.
Back to the noise.
Back to pretending.
I take the stairs slow, one at a time, still hearing the soft sound of her breathing in the back of my mind. Still feeling the weight of her, pressed against my
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Chapter 110: Asher
chest like she belonged there.
“Thank you so much for having us,” my mom says warmly to Penny’s parents. “Really. It was so lovely to catch up.”
“We’re excited about the trip,” my dad adds. “We’ll text about the final plans?”
“Yes, definitely,” Penny’s dad replies.
There are hugs at the door, promises of desserts next time, jokes about bringing more wine and fewer questions.
I stay quiet through it all.
Once we’re in the car, the cold night air brushing through the crack in the window, I let the silence settle,
Tyler rushes for the shower the second we get home.
And I’m finally alone with my parents.
I lean against the kitchen counter, cross my arms, and raise an eyebrow at both of them.
“What kind of ambush was that?”
My mom looks up from rinsing out a mug, all wide–eyed innocence.
“Ambush?”
“You threw me under the bus and signed me up for seven days in the woods.”
“Oh please,” my dad chimes in, walking past me with a smirk. “You’re acting like you were drafted.”
I stare at them, deadpan.
My mom dries her hands and gives me a cheeky smile.
“You’ll survive,” she says, walking past to hang the towel.
“You knew exactly what you were doing,” I mutter.
They say nothing.
Just exchange a look.
And then
my mom winks.
I shake my head and push off the counter.
“Unbelievable,” I mutter.
“You’re welcome,” my dad calls after me.
And I don’t answer.
Because I don’t have to. They’re very happy with themselves right now and, to be honest, I’m not that mad at it.
