Chapter 60

I wasn’t terribly impressed with Aimee’s ex, Brent. He was handsome enough, I supposed, and had nice, long blond hair. But the obvious greed in his gaze was off-putting, and I didn’t much care for the calculating way he sized up Asher.

Asher, for his part, seemed thoroughly disinterested in anything Brent was saying.

“Well, good luck,” Asher said, clearly dismissing himself from the group.

I hurried to catch up with him, stopping him a few steps away.

“Wait,” I whispered quickly. “Keep talking to Brent.”

Asher lifted a brow at me. Yet before he could say anything, Brent also left the group to track down Asher.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Brent started.

Crossing his arms, Asher first looked at me, then at Brent. “Alright.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while, but you are a difficult man to get alone. Everyone knows you are one of the top athletes on campus. I’m hoping to get there myself.”

Brent looked at Asher as if he was expecting some acknowledgement. Asher just stared at him.

Brent’s smile twitched, but he continued undeterred, “I was hoping we could spend some time together and you could give me some tips. I’m serious about this. You could be like an advisor to me.”

Asher blinked slowly. “No.”

Quickly, I jumped in. “Oh, Asher! Hear him out. The guy is clearly talented, and motivated.”

Brent startled when I spoke, like he hadn’t noticed me before.

Asher narrowed his eyes at him.

I spoke faster. “I bet he’s also totally responsible, and would own up to any mistakes –”

“I don’t make mistakes,” he said, glaring.

His sudden change in attitude surprised me, but maybe it shouldn’t have. For him to abandon Aimee, to claim she cheated, he had to have a darker side than he pretended.

Or a more cowardly one.

Irked by his curtness and my own thoughts, I asked, “Say, didn’t you used to date Aimee?”

His entire face paled. His eyes went wide. The overconfidence vanished under a sea of panic.

“Aimee and I broke up a long time ago,” he said and retreated so quickly, I thought he might trip over his own feet. He maintained his footwork though, which made me wonder what sport he played. Soccer?

Asher watched me closely. He lifted a brow, as if asking, Well?

“I’m curious about him,” I admitted, quietly so no one else could hear. “After what Aimee said about him.”

“You are speaking with Aimee?”

When I looked around nervously rather than answer, he understood instantly, and led me back to his room to continue the conversation.

I explained to him how I told Aimee a bit of the truth and what she shared in return.

“I could help you with this,” Asher said. “That guy wants to leech off my popularity. I could let him, for a while.”

“Thank you, but no,” I said at once. Asher shouldn’t have to do that. Besides, what I was doing wasn’t particularly dangerous. “Aimee and I have a lot on common. I want to help her on my own.”

Helping her felt a lot like helping myself.

Asher stepped closer. “You’re different than her, Cynthia.”

“Am I?” I didn’t feel different. At every moment, I felt like I was only one step away from being as ostracized as her.

I couldn’t hide my pregnancy forever. When the truth came out…

I didn’t want to think about it.

“You have me, Cynthia,” Asher said. “You aren’t alone.”

Later, as I walked to a restaurant to meet with Joseph, I remembered Asher’s words and felt guilty. There were things I couldn’t trust with Asher yet, like my truest fears of becoming an outcast like Aimee.

Asher wouldn’t be able to protect me from the whole world. He would only hurt himself.

I’d been thinking about how in the hotel closet, he had wanted to protect my reputation, but here I was, so willing to drag his through the mud.

Asher didn’t owe me anything.

But as the father of my baby, Joseph did.

I had agreed to meet with Joseph to set things straight. I still felt bad for what happened the other day outside of the bus. He had said horrible things to me, but… he might have been right about my feelings for Asher.

I had been taking way too many liberties with my sworn protector.

When I arrived at the restaurant, Joseph was already waiting for me at a table for two. He looked nice in a clean, button-down shirt, with his hair slicked back. And his boyish smile helped soothe some of the more hurtful memories.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said as I sat across from him.

“I’ve been thinking, too,” I admitted.

“I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I was angry and irrational. I couldn’t believe that you had… well, we don’t need to rehash it now.”

“No,” I agreed.

“I think we should make a fresh start.”

I wondered how many fresh starts this would make for us, and how many more were yet to come. I was beginning to see that if I made Joseph my future, his bursts of anger with following apologies would happen again and again in a loop.

For our baby, I had to be strong. I could learn to navigate his moods properly, in time, and maybe break the cycle.

“I got you something.” He reached into a bag beside him then placed a square velvet box onto my empty plate.

“You shouldn’t have,” I said, because this looked like jewelry, which meant it was expensive. He might have been able to afford it, but I had no hope of returning a gift of similar quality.

“Let me spoil you.” He motioned toward the black velvet box. “Open it.”

Not seeing a way out, I slowly opened the lid. Inside was a beautiful silver pendant in the shape of a waning crescent moon. In the curve of the moon sat a gemstone, black as night. Strung through the pendant was a silver chain.

It was beautiful. Expensive.

“I don’t think I can accept this,” I said, trying once more.

He wouldn’t listen. “When you wear it, and see yourself in the mirror, you’ll think of me. I want you to think of me, Cynthia.” He glanced down at the openbox. “Like, next time you are in a hotel room with Asher.”

Guilt crushed down on me once again.

When he put it like that, what could I do but accept the gift?

“Okay,” I said, pulling the box closer. “Then I accept it. Thank you.”

Standing, he came beside me and plucked the necklace from the box. Moving behind me, he placed the necklace around my neck, with the pendant at my bosom, and fastened the clasp in the back.

As he returned to his seat, he stared openly at the pendant, or my breasts, or both.

I touched my fingers to the necklace, half-hiding my chest from his gaze. The pendant was heavier than it appeared. Its weight tugged at the chain so it dug uncomfortably into the back of my neck.

“I want you to always wear it,” Joseph said.

A deep twist of dread curled in my stomach. What had felt like a generous gift of new beginnings started to feel like something else, something darker.

Something like control.

Possession.

Suddenly the necklace wasn’t quite so beautiful anymore.

It became a collar, branding me as Joseph’s.

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