Chapter 117 Part 117
Asher
Christmas morning arrived bleak and cold. It had snowed the previous night, and Asher remained lying in his bed. It was still early, but he felt tired and restless. He finally got up, pulled on his clothes from the previous day, and headed out to the barn. He mucked the two stalls, fed and watered his horses, and gave them their treats. It was barely 7 a.m. when he was done with his chores, and the rest of the day loomed ahead of him. He trudged through the snow, back to his house, and stomped his feet before he stepped into the mudroom. He switched the coffee machine on, a gift he’d bought himself, and went to the living room to start a fire.
Emerson’s gift to him still stood on the foyer table under the ridiculously small tree. He ignored it, and headed back to the kitchen. He heated up some leftover food, and took that along with his coffee back to the living room.
He made himself comfortable on the couch and switched the television on. He scrolled through the movies and selected one. He ate his food, and drained his coffee, his gaze inadvertently going back to that present.
With a loud sigh, he stood up, and grabbed it. He sat down on the couch again, and carefully unwrapped it. It was a sketchbook, similar to the one he’d bought her weeks earlier.
He turned the first page and looked at it. He was hauling hay with the ranch hands. At the bottom of the page she’d written, ‘Asher Fitzgerald is strong.’ On each page, she’d sketched him, and each page she’d written one sentence.
‘Asher Fitzgerald is brave.’
‘Asher Fitzgerald is honest.’
‘Asher Fitzgerald is caring.’
‘Asher Fitzgerald is inspiring.’
‘Asher Fitzgerald is my hero.’
He closed the book and clenched his eyes shut. She’d captured the moments perfectly, sketching him like he mattered. He turned to the last page and the sketch was of him standing on the porch, staring off into the distance.
‘Asher Fitzgerald brings light to my darkness. Asher Fitzgerald matters.’
He wiped the stray tear from his cheek, and closed the book again. He’d never thought of himself as the light, only as the darkness. He grabbed his phone, and typed a message to Mark, asking for Emerson’s phone number.
His foot tapped a dysfunctional rhythm on the floor as he waited for Mark to reply. It was the longest eight minutes of his life. He clicked on her number and the phone dialed it.
There was a clicking sound, and he frowned as a voice started to talk. “The number you have dialed does not exist.”
The phone rang in his hand, and he answered it quickly. “Hello.”
“Merry Christmas, Asher!”
“Thanks, Eden, you too.”
“Lunch starts at noon, please make sure you’re hungry,” she said.
“I’m sorry, Eden. I’m going to stay at home today. I need to clear my head.”
“No! It’s Christmas, and that means family time,” she said.
“I’m not in the mood, Eden!” His voice was harsh, and he regretted it immediately.
“Fine!” The call ended, and Asher closed his eyes. He’d need to apologize to her. It wasn’t her fault he was damaged. It was just one lunch. He owed Eden.
He clenched his jaw when he realized Emerson had changed her number.
At noon, he went to the main house, and apologized to Eden. He ate lunch with his family, then retreated. He sat in his dark living room, the television flickering, but he wasn’t paying attention to the movie. He’d used Blair’s social media account and searched for Emerson Reid. None of them were her, and he knew it was a sign. He should let her go because it had been his choice.
Nine days later, the furniture he’d ordered arrived, and Finn helped him assemble the beds. Two days after the furniture arrived, it looked like a bedroom. Asher was pleased with the end result and he asked Finn to check if there had been any incidents with Jeff Crowley, anything that could help him take those boys.
He’d done everything he could, and Blair was right. He had to forgive himself, otherwise he would be no good to anyone. Emerson was gone, and that was his fault. There was only one other thing he could do, and he called Mark.
“Hey, Asher.”
“I know this is going to sound insane, but I need you to give me Emerson’s address,” he said.
“Why can’t you get it from her?”
“She changed her number, the one you sent me doesn’t exist.”
“Asher…what happened between you two? She was a mess when I dropped her off in Minneapolis.”
“Minneapolis? I thought she lived in New York.”
“She has a friend there. She said there was nothing left for her in New York. So tell me, Asher, what the hell happened?”
“It’s complicated. Are you going to give me her address or not?”
“I’ll give you her email address, from what I know, she doesn’t want to see you or speak to you,” Mark said.
“She said that?”
“She was pretty upset. She didn’t want to talk about what happened between you two, but she did say that you broke her heart, and that Eden had been wrong.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I don’t know, Asher. Maybe you should just let her go.”
They talked for a few minutes before ending the call and Asher knew he was right. She hadn’t done it on purpose, but he basically threw her out, and now she was gone. He should leave it alone.
On New Year’s Eve, he made his own resolution. He was going to live. He would stop moping, stop excluding himself, and he would live. He knew that if he was meant to find Emerson, he would, but until then, he was going to live his life to the fullest.
He owed it to his family, but most of all, he owed it to himself. He put the sketch book in the drawer of his dresser, beneath a hoodie he rarely wore. It was time to stop pining over her.