Page 64 of Winging It with You

Asher opens his mouth to say something else but quickly decides against it, his cheeks burning red behind his glasses. I’m glad he swallowed whatever sentence was going to come out of his mouth next, because I don’t know if I can temper my frustration that much more.

“Do me a favor and watch my bag,” I try to ask evenly, shoving my hands in my pockets. “You know,” I add, the second the thought pops in my brain, “with everything you’ve been through, you’re thelastperson I thought would put people in boxes.”

“Theo, hold on,” he says quickly, an urgency—and a hint of frustration—behind his words. But I don’t want to fight or even argue with Asher right now. I just need to clear my head.

“And keep them there,” I add, feeling the weight of my own words.

His face falls as I leave him and turn toward the quiet terminal.

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When I get back, Asherand our bags are nowhere to be seen.

Neither are Jo or Arthur, actually.

I was only gone for maybe ten minutes. Fifteen tops. I’m notusually some heated Neanderthal that needs space or to cool down mid-argument, but there was something about the wordnormalthat struck a nerve, and the last thing I’d want to do is say something I couldn’t take back.

But obviously I owe Asher an explanation.

Checking the electronic monitor at my gate to make sure I didn’t accidentally miss our boarding announcement—I didn’t—I plop down in a nearly empty row of seats facing the window to wait for him and our bags.

“Hey, you,” his voice says from behind me a few moments later. Asher takes the empty seat next to me, tucking his long legs underneath himself. “Here,” he says, passing me a bottle of water. “I got you this.” He also lobs something cold in my direction and I catch it against my chest. “This too.”

I look down at the rectangular white stick covered in plastic. “A cheese stick?”

A small smile makes its way from the corner of Asher’s mouth. “It’s the closest thing I could find to a mozzarella stick,” he says, his voice just louder than a whisper.

“Is this your subtle way of letting me know you’re instituting Rule Number Four?” I ask, peeling back the cheese stick’s wrapper. Picking at the top corner of the snack, I pull a cheesy strand and offer it to Asher. He shakes his head, so I plop it in my mouth. “Thank you for this.”

He nods, seemingly unsure of what to say or how to proceed.

“I’m sorry,” he says at the same time I do, which causes us both to laugh. Laughing with Asher feels so much better than anything else.

He puts a warm hand on my thigh, and suddenly, I’m hitwith the realization of just how much his touch has become a source of comfort for me.

All of him, really.

Which leads me to the next realization, that it’s probably time for a little honesty.

He deserves that, after all.

“What you said earlier…” I start, but like a jet shooting off an aircraft carrier, Asher all but leaps forward.

“I’msosorry,” he says, genuinely apologetic. “I shouldn’t have said or implied…I’m just really sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I put my hand on his. “Truly, Ash. I’m fine. We’re good. For some reason, the whole thing really reminded me of Ethan.”

“Your ex?” he asks. Now that I think of it, I don’t know that I’ve mentioned him by name.

I nod.

Asher’s eyes gleam at my sudden vulnerability. “Theo, we don’t have to talk about this.”

“No, it’s okay,” I say, and I think I actually mean it. Hehasbecome a safe space for me, so now feels like as good a time as any to open up. For real. “I don’t really talk about my time in the Navy. Or why I left,” I add, feeling the need to choose my words carefully. This stuff isn’t something I enjoy rehashing. “Well, it wasn’t by choice. Ethan was one of those people you couldn’t help but be drawn to. He was daring and bold and treated everyone around him with an unnerving warmth and kindness that you wouldn’t expect to find from someone in the military. He was instantly my best friend and from our very first day of flight training, we were…inseparable.”

I can’t remember the last time I publicly, and voluntarily,talked about Ethan, but now that the can of worms has been opened, it seems I can’t stop myself. There’s also something about Asher and the way he’s giving me the space to share that makes me want to confide in him. The trauma train has left the station and whether Asher wants it or not, he’s getting a front-row seat to the mess that is my life. But as far as I can tell, he’s engaged. Nodding his head here and there, positioning himself more comfortably in his seat so his entire body is facing me attentively.

“He was my firstrealally in the military. Someone I knew was in my corner, regardless of what else was going on. We’d work out, grab a few beers at the on-base bowling alley after work, and spend every free moment together.”

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