Page 62 of His Gentle Omega
“Yes, it fucking matters,” I growled, annoyed. “I want to know. All the paper said was that there was a workplace accident. What the fuck does that even mean? He was a mechanic, for fucks sake.”
“He was working on his truck and the jack fell.” Asher looked away from me as he said the quiet words. “The truck fell on him and crushed his chest. It was just a freak accident.”
His words washed over me, while my brain tried to make sense of them. Emotions slammed into me from all sides.Confusion, regret, and most of all, pain for so many things I couldn’t change.
“I should have been there.” The ragged words hung in the air between us.
Asher shook his head. “It wouldn’t have mattered, Shay.”
“I should have been there!” My raised voice caused heads to turn in our direction from the handful of people milling around.
“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Asher repeated, his words clipped and sharp. “Justin and Miguel were both there and it didn’t matter. I saw the M.E.’s report. His chest was crushed. He held on…” Asher’s words became strangled, before he swallowed hard, shook himself and seemed to regain his composure. “He held on until they got it off him, and then he was gone pretty quickly. The pressure was–” he closed his eyes, before opening them, “likely the only thing keeping him alive, and when it was gone–”
Asher was a doctor, so he knew more than I did about these things, but that didn’t make it any easier. Picturing it in my head, imagining what had happened, was gut-wrenching.
“I could have–” I didn’t know what I could have done, honestly.
Made sure he wasn’t using his old jack, that I had told him a hundred times needed to be replaced because it had slipped on me more than once. Made sure he used one of the bays, with the fancy hydraulic jacks, that he said didn’t give him the same feel as sliding on his back underneath a car.
“You know what you should have done, Shay?” Asher asked me sharply, and before I could open my mouth to form any sort of reply, he said, “You should have shown up at his funeral. You should have let me into that fancy ass house you were living in, behind an iron gate, like you were a fucking princess.”
Flinching from my brother’s words, I sucked in air so fast I made some kind of squeaking noise. He might as well have slapped me across the face, because that’s what his words felt like.
Asher looked equally angry and horrified at his outburst. Holding a hand towards me, he shook his head, “Shay, I–”
“Don’t.” Whispering, I shrank back against the bench, “Don’t say you didn’t mean it. You did. You have a right to say it. Because you’re right, I should have been there. I wanted to be there.” My voice trailed off, and it hurt to push the words past the lump that had formed in my throat. The tightness of my chest. The fire burning behind my eyes, for the hundredth time that day.
“I couldn’t, Ash, I couldn’t.” The whispered words were barely loud enough for me to hear myself. “You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me,” Asher demanded, his dark brown eyes stormy. “Make me understand this one thing. Because I don’t. I didn’t then, and I don’t now. Don’t get me wrong, Shay, I’m happy as hell you are here. Back in my life. But I’m mad as hell at you, and I need you to start talking to me. I need you to make all of this–” he spread his arms wide, “I need you to start making it make sense for me.”
He was right. I owed him that much. Maybe I owed myself that much. I didn’t even know anymore. This entire day had been exhausting and emotional. I didn’t want to fight with my brother, knowing what I was going to have to deal with later. I had just wanted a few minutes of peace in a quiet place, before I picked up Lucas and we took the first steps to making a new life for ourselves.
But this was Asher. My big brother. If we had any hope of getting past all that had happened, I would need to start talking.Maybe not to the entire world, but to him. A little bit, here and there. Maybe once I started telling my story, it would get easier to talk about. Easier to admit the things that had happened. Talking to Tessa had ended up being cathartic and I had felt better afterwards.
“I planned to go to the funeral,” my voice was quiet, shaky, and I took a steadying breath before I continued. “Even though I hadn’t talked to Dad, or you, in months, I planned to go. To be there. For you, and him. And well, for me. Things were already getting rocky with Edward. He–we’d–lost the baby–” Asher’s head jerked up at the mention of a baby, his eyes wide.
That was a story for another time. We’d get there, just not today. “And Edward’s moods were all over the place. We fought. About me going to the funeral. And yes, when you came to the gate afterwards, I instructed Albert not to let you in. To say I didn’t want to see you.”
Asher’s lips formed a tight, thin line in his face, but he didn’t push me, didn’t demand answers. I had always told him he was too bossy, too demanding, wanting everyone to do things his way. I knew it was killing him to stay silent and to just listen.
“It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see you,” I whispered, not able to meet his eyes any longer. Instead, I focused on the merry-go-round that I could barely see in the distance. It spun around, faster and faster, until it and its occupants were just a blur of colors. I kind of felt like that merry-go-round at that moment, spinning out of control, my colors all blurry. “I didn’t want you to see me.”
Blinking rapidly, I tried to stop the tears from escaping out of my eyes, over my lashes. But like most times today, I failed miserably, and swiped at them angrily. Goddess, I was sick to death of crying today. It was exhausting. “I didn’t want you tosee me with two black eyes and a nearly broken jaw.” Shaking my head, jaw clenched, I whispered, “I couldn’t let you see me like that.”
It was out there now, and I couldn’t take the truth back.
In fascination, I watched as all the air left Asher’s body at once, and he nearly crumpled onto the seat next to me. His arm snaked out, wrapping around my shoulders as he pulled me into him tightly. His hand stroked my hair, and for the first time in longer than I could remember, I cried into my brother’s shoulder. He held me, his arms tight and safe, like they always had been, and whispered words I didn’t even try to make sense of.
Finally, when I had nothing left inside, no more tears, I pulled away from him. His own face was wet, and he looked wrecked by my admission.
“I would have taken you with me, Shay,” he whispered, his arm still around my shoulders. He pressed his forehead to mine, like we used to do when we were kids, and I closed my eyes against the memories that swarmed me like a hive of angry bees. “I would have taken you out of there.”
“I wouldn’t have gone, Ash,” I whispered, knowing it was the truth and hating myself for it. Not sure I would ever be able to explain it to him. “It wouldn’t have mattered what you would have said, I wouldn’t have gone. Probably would have just gotten angry and kicked you out.”
It was the truth and I needed him to know it. Like him telling me it wouldn’t have mattered if I had been there the day of our dad’s accident; I knew I wouldn’t have left that day with Asher.
“Why, Shay? Why did you stay then?”
