Page 84 of From Asher, With Love

The elevator stops on my level, and the doors slide open. I don’t let Charleigh go when I carry her through the threshold. She keeps her hands around my neck and lifts herself to bring her mouth to mine again. This time, we don’t stop kissing. I part her lips with my tongue and breath her in. She’s flowers and champagne and beauty.

I carry her through the entryway and am about to lower her out of my arms when I stop, hearing a crunching sound beneath my feet.

Looking down, I quickly lift Charleigh back up before her bare feet touch the shattered shards of glass sprinkled across my floor. They glitter in the darkness. A chill slithers down the length of my spine as I back up toward the elevator before finally putting Charleigh down. I hand her silver heels back to her. On a panicked breath, she slips them back on as I take a step back toward the glass, taking in my apartment. Someone has been here.

“Asher…” Charleigh hisses in the dark.

I push my arm behind me, urging her to stay back, and press my finger to my mouth before holding it out to her. “Wait here,”I whisper.

Her eyebrows knit together, and she presses her hand to her chest. She shakes her head but stays where she is.

I pull my phone from my pocket and dial 911 but keep my finger hovered over the green call button.

I search my apartment in the dark. Every light is off, the only illumination coming from the city. Every single frame mounted on the wall in the entryway is busted. My father’s art pieces and photographs are all destroyed. Glass is scattered across my floor. The cushions of my furniture is upturned, the fabric sliced and torn. The material inside is spilling out, lying in mounds all over my floor. It looks like a fucking animal went rabid in here.

When I get closer to my living room, I realize the damage done to the furniture wasn’t chewed apart, though, it was done by a knife. Clean cuts stretch from one end of the cushions to the other.

I glance back at Charleigh to make sure she’s okay and still standing close to the elevator. With her hand held up to her mouth, she nervously bites down on her nail.

I turn back around to search the living room, getting closer to the piano. The bench is smashed in, practically snapped in half. All the keys are broken, some missing, popping completely off and sitting at my feet.

I start racking my brain as to how this happened. Charleigh and I were only at Julianna’s party for a few hours, and no one can access my floor without a keycard, and I’m the only one with one.

I call my security guard quickly. “Lincoln, I need you to check the security cameras for the last three hours and pull the data from my key box in the elevator to see when it was last used. Email over the footage and data as soon as possible.”

I hang up and call the police.

After giving them the initial info, I check to make sure therest of the apartment is clear. Afterward, Charleigh joins me in the living room, and the dispatcher assures me they’re sending an officer out, but she stays on the line and asks, “Do you have an idea who would have broken into your apartment, sir?”

Charleigh is staring at the piano with tears streaming down her face. My gaze falls on the sticky note taped to the top of the broken pile of wood.

I tear the note off, reading the four words scribbled on it.

LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON

“Yeah,” I sigh, the air leaving my lungs. “I have a pretty good idea who.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

CHARLEIGH

February 12, 2015

“Mom?”

“I thought you fell asleep,” she says softly, stepping into my room. “At least, I was hoping you did.”

I roll over, turning my back on her. I can’t look at her. My heart is too broken, too lost. The bed sinks behind me with her weight, and I close my eyes, feeling another tear slip from under my lashes and down my cheek. All I’ve been doing is crying.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I don’t want to talk,” I whisper, staring at my bedroom window. It’s a silly notion, but I’m secretly willing Asher to come back. Vivid images of him climbing through my window come to me every few minutes, but then they’re gone the second I blink, and my heart breaks all over again.

The wounds are fresh and raw, tearing me apart.

“Please, Charleigh.” She places her gentle hand on my shoulder. “I’m here.”

I stare at the window with nothing but pain.

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