Page 55 of From Asher, With Love

“It’s fine,” he cuts me off. He grips the box, his fingers tightening around the hard edges. “I know you were with him. You don’t need to lie.”

I swallow again, and this time the growing lump in my throat swells. I clasp my hands in front of me, wringing my fingers until I feel my knuckles rolling with the movements. “Dad, I don’t think you understand how much I love Asher.”

“That boy has been trouble for you ever since he stepped into our lives.”

“How? What did he do to make you hate him this much?”

His jaw ticks as he inhales a deep breath, and his body turns rigid. “His mother has been nothing but a stain on this town, and Asher only enables her. He’s sure to follow in her footsteps. The last people you need to be involved with are Asher and his mother.”

“Dad.” I sigh, exhausted from having to defend Asher to my father. I would never stop defending him despite my father’s reluctance to listen to me. “I’m telling you Asher is nothing like his mother.”

“You have no idea what kind of person his mother is, the messes she creates.”

I knit my eyebrows, confused. What does he mean by the messes she creates? Maybe he’s referring to her addiction to alcohol, but the way his anger is raging like a pot of boiling water, threatening to spill over, I know there’s more to his statement.

“Asher is trash, Charleigh.” He looks up from the box, his eyes focused sharply on me. “I raised you better than this. You won’t go anywhere in life being with a boy like that. He will hold you back, dragging you down to the trailer park with him.”

I bite back the tears welling behind my eyes. “He’s not trash. It’s not his fault his mother is the way she is. Asher’s incredibly smart and ambitious. I really think if you got to know him you would see that.”

I’m begging my father to understand, but I can’t help feeling as if my entire life is about to get sucked out of me.

I keep my mouth shut about Asher moving away from his mother to be with me at NYU. My father is wrong. Asher isn’t dragging me to the trailer park. We’re barreling straight toward the richest city in the country—both of us, together. I consider if sharing that bit of information will make a difference to my father. Probably not. At this point, I don’t think it matterswhat Asher does. He will always be the poor boy from the trailer park, tainting the Keeler name when, in reality, it’s my father who is bringing shame to our family. The remaining shred of respect I had for him has completely dissolved. There is nothing left between us now.

“What is this?” He lifts the lid of the box, sifting through the small scraps of paper.

My chest twists in pain, watching as my father’s fingers graze every single one of Asher’s words. He moves through them slowly, then quickly, then slowly again. The sickness in my stomach is heavy. My father was digging around my bedroom, searching for any sign that I’m still with Asher. He grabs the flower from my mother’s garden and twists the stem between his fingers. The petal dances in a circle, then bends over. Before, the flower was frozen in time. Now, it looks as if what life it had left has been sucked out by my father’s touch.

He drops the bloom into the box and snaps his head up. “What are these, Charleigh?” He’s yelling now, the veins popping in his swollen neck.

I take a step closer, releasing my hands. My palms sweat and my fingers shake. I’m worried about what he’s going to do with the box.

He stands, noticing me drawing nearer. I stop, not wanting to get any closer to him than necessary.

“I picked the flower in Mom’s garden.” My voice wobbles, a tear already spilling over my lashes and onto my cheek.

“I don’t give a fuck about any stupid flower.” He grits his teeth. “I was asking about the shreds of paper.”

“Those aren’t shreds of paper, Dad. They’re notes from Asher.”

He stands from my bed, still holding the box. He looks down, hiding his face from me, but I know exactly the thoughts going on inside his head. His body is rigid, and if I were to use acolor to describe him, it would be red. A deep, dark, frightening red.

I’m still holding my breath, unsure what he’s going to do with the box. My chest twists with pain again, fearing he’s going to toss them in the trash.

At one time, I adored my father. I looked up to him, thinking he was the most intelligent man in the world… but all of that turned to dust when I found out about my father’s infidelity. Most days, it’s hard to even look at him. He has become a man I no longer admire. He became the exact opposite of the person I want to become.

When he looks up from the box, his eyes cloud over like a storm hitting the shore. I know my father will never feel any different about me than he already does. To him, reputation is more important than family. It always will be. Even if his is turning to absolute shit.

Another tear spills down my cheek as my father quickly lifts the box and turns it over. Every piece of paper falls to the floor, scattering across the carpet. Some dart straight to the floor. Others drift in the air like feathers before softly landing on the carpet. He waves his arm in front of him, ensuring every last one is emptied out of the box.

I’m still crying when my father tosses the empty box onto my bed. The dried, damaged flower I picked from the garden is now buried beneath the hundreds of hearts from Asher.

My mouth falls open, and a shuddering sob rattles my chest, breaking it into pieces. I’m unable to look away from the mess my father has created.

“You’ll stop seeing that worthless boy, or you will no longer be a part of this family, and you can say goodbye to your tuition.”

I’m finally able to break my gaze away to stare my father in the eye. My vision is blurred by my tears as he slowly turnsaround and leaves my room. I fall to my knees, crawling across the carpet in a sobbing mess. I gasp for air, releasing it from my lungs, then breathe in again. Once I’ve reached the pile of hearts, I start shoveling them across the floor with my hands. They’re shaky and unsteady, the reality of my father’s words hitting me. If I don’t leave Asher, I will be left with nothing. But if I choose to leave Asher, I will still be left with nothing.

There is no winning when it comes to my father. In some ways, I think he knows what choice he is giving me. I know he is carving me and molding me to become the person he expects me to be—a hollow human being with no heart. Just like him.

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