Page 74 of Because You Loved Me

It had been two days since Noa had driven away with his truck, leaving him alone. The days had been long and lonely—not that he was about to admit it.

He’d filled his time splitting wood and restocking the pile in the house for the fireplace and in the woodshed next to the house. Winter was long and cold in the mountains; he’d need a lot of wood to keep the cabin warm.

Especially without Noa in his bed.

The thought, like all the thoughts he’d had for the last few days, popped unwelcome into his mind. He lifted the axe and brought it down hard, again.

And again.

Hard, physical labor was the only way he could keep her out of his head for longer than a few seconds at a time.

If he could only exhaust himself completely, then maybe he would stop thinking about where she was. What she was doing. Whether she was with herfiancé. Or whether she was thinking about him. Whether she hated him.

Although, he was pretty sure he already knew the answer to that one.

Of course she hated him. How could she not? He’d been cruel. The way he’d treated her had been inexcusable.

Yes. She definitely hated him.

He hated himself.

It was better that way. At least that way she could go on with her life and not waste even one more moment of her time on him. She deserved at least that much.

It was laughable that he’d entertained, even for a second, that he could be enough for a woman like Noa. He didn’t have anything to offer her. Beyond a secret little, shitty house in the woods, he had nothing.

His father had seen to that.

Michael Carlson had single-handedly ruined his life. From the grave, no less.

Asher laughed out loud. The hollow sound echoed in the cold. “It takes a special kind of skill to fuck over your kids from beyond the grave, Dad. Then again, I probably shouldn’t be too surprised.”

Asher bent to retrieve another log from the stack and set it on the chopping block.

He lifted the axe and brought it down hard. The wood split into two pieces with a satisfying crack.

He reset the wood and lifted the heavy steel again.

“I wasn’t good enough then.”Thwack.He brought it down with a grunt.

“And you made sure I knew that.” He swung the axe again. “Didn’t you, Dad?”

Instead of resetting the wood, Asher grabbed a piece in his free hand.

“I was never good enough for you,” he yelled into the crisp quiet of the day. “All I ever did was try to make you proud.” He heaved the wood with all his might into the forest, where it struck a tree. “I worked my ass off for you.” Asher picked up another piece and hurled it, too. “No one else wanted what you built. Only me.” He threw another piece. “But you didn’t care.” And another one. “You’ve made that perfectly fucking clear.”

He bent to pick up another piece, this one bigger than the last. “Fuck. You.” With a guttural scream, Asher flung the log into the trees before dropping his head and folding over himself with a sob that rose up from deep inside him.

Bent over in the cold, wintery day, for the first time since his father had died, Asher gave himself over to the grief he’d never let himself feel.

He’d been too busy trying to keep everything running in the wake of Michael’s death. There’d been no one else to do it. Without Asher, Carlson Corp would have struggled. Sure, Michael had his assistant Steven Larson and his attorney, but they didn’t have the experience Asher did. He’d prepared for taking over the company almost from the time he was old enough to first ask his father for a part-time job in the office.

Asher couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever wanted anything else from life. He’d watched everything Michael did, both in business and in the community, with pride. He gave so much of himself to the town of Trickle Creek, and many would argue that Michael Carlson was responsible for saving the livelihood of the town. Everyone loved him.

His loss had been felt keenly.

By everyone except Asher.

It wasn’t something he’d admitted to anyone. Not even his siblings. But the only way Asher had been able to get on with the work of running the business and making it through the days without Michael had been to pretend, at least in a small way, that he was only on vacation.

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