The first drawing was one he recognized. It was the self-portrait that he had seen when he’d first taken Asha’s things, the picture of her yearning for a man, and the man’s face in shadow. Moving on to the next, he recognized himself right away, and he identified Asha as the woman with her head resting against his shoulder. A woman who appeared incredibly happy and satisfied.
Two pictures.
Both subjects the same.
But the emotions were completely different.
Holding them up, Kade looked at them side by side. He understood her message immediately. He’d have to be a complete idiot not to comprehend that she was telling him that he’d satisfied her needs. He replaced the pictures, his heart thundering in his chest, happy beyond belief that Asha was saying he’d made her happy. ’Cause really, that was all he wanted.
There was a note next to the pictures, and he picked it up and opened it. There was only one paragraph:
Dearest Kade,
I wanted to say good-bye in person, but I guess I’m a coward. Maybe that’s one of the many things I need to work on about myself. I couldn’t go without thanking you for everything you’ve done for me. You saved my life, but I can’t stay. I’m not strong enough for this right now, and I’m confused. I need time and space to work on my problems. You don’t deserve a woman as messed-up and broken as I am right now. Please forgive me for not telling you this in person, but I think it’s better this way. I called the hospital in Nashville to get the total of the bill. My work doesn’t cover the full amount, so I’ve left a check for the rest on your dresser. You’ll never know how much I cherish our time together, and I’ll never forget everything you’ve done for me.
Be Happy,
Asha
Kade walked to his dresser in a daze, unable to process what Asha had written. He picked up the check, absently noting that she needed to charge more for her work. It was nearly the full amount of her hospital bill. Next to the check was the phone he’d given her, and the reason that she had left it was obvious.
She wants to make sure I can’t contact her.
“She can’t really be gone,” he assured himself in a disbelieving voice.
Walking into the room across the hall, he found the clothing that Maddie and Mia had bought her. The room looked the same, but it felt different. The laptop he had gifted her was gone from the desk. The dresser drawers where she kept the clothes she wore were empty, and her suitcase was gone.
“No,” he denied emphatically, shaking his head as he stared blankly at the empty drawer he’d just opened. “She wouldn’t leave me. She said she wouldn’t.”
Ultimately, reality crept in, leaving him rooted to the carpet on the floor of her room, his whole body shuddering.
His disbelief turned to frustration and disappointment…and finally desolation. “Why? Why would she go?” he rasped, already knowing what the answer was to his question. She simply didn’t want to be with him.
His fist crashed down on the dresser hard enough to make a mark. “Fuck! Did I really think she’d be happy with me?” he shouted loudly, devastation eating at his soul. “I’m a lame bastard with nothing to offer except money, and she doesn’t need that anymore.” Completely destroyed, he kicked out with his damaged leg, slamming it into the dresser. It hurt like hell, but the agony of losing Asha was still more acute, a fiery pain in his chest that threatened to consume him.
Limping to the bed, he sat, staring at the picture Asha had painted on this accent wall. It was a beach scene, waves crashing to the shore and a sky that seemed to stretch to infinity. Right now, Kade wished he could be in the drawing, let it swallow him up and devour him.
You can’t let this destroy you.
He tried reaching inside himself for some last reserve of strength or endurance, but he found none. There was nothing left.
Kade slept in Asha’s bed that night, the light smell of jasmine torturing him until it slowly faded away, taking any glimmer of happiness he’d had along with it.
Chapter 12
The first six weeks of Asha’s total freedom turned out to be one of the most difficult times of her life. Not talking to Kade, not seeing his handsome face every day was agony, and the desire to call him was almost irresistible. She picked up her new phone several times a day, only to shove it back in her purse again with a sigh. Those ties were broken, and chances were that she wouldn’t get a positive reaction from him. She’d burnt that bridge in an effort to give Kade a chance to find a better partner, and she needed to stay out of his life.
Finally, she’d admitted to herself that she hadn’t really been confused about the way she felt about him. She loved him. Probably always would. Most of her fears arose from the uncertainty of how he felt about her, and her certainty that he deserved a much better woman in his life than her.
Christmas came and went, and she had put up a tree, but she decided against the stocking. It would end up as empty as her life on Christmas morning.
She continued her therapy with Dr. Miller, trying to free herself from the invisible chains that had held her immobile her entire life. She worked nearly every day, and had bought a used compact car to get around. Driving was a challenge. Although she had a license, she had driven very little in her life. She cursed other drivers often, but she was a little afraid that it was really her skills that were lacking.
However, every day she grew more confident in everything new that she was doing, and started losing her fear of life. Sometimes trying to shed the guilt and shame that plagued her seemed like an uphill battle, but she kept taking small steps up the incline. She’d get there…eventually.
“I have a small confession to make,” her neighbor, Tate Colter, told her as he poured himself another cup of coffee.
His voice jolted her out of her musings. Tate had been a glimmer of light for Asha. She’d met him a week after she’d moved into her apartment. He lived directly across the hall, and on the day he’d moved in, they had literally bumped into each other. She was getting into the elevator as Tate was getting out. He was on crutches from a broken leg, but she’d failed to see him because she was in a hurry and had literally bowled him over, leaving the poor guy on the floor of the elevator. Mortified, she’d helped him up and followed him to his apartment, trying to make sure she hadn’t damaged his leg. He’d assured her he was fine and invited himself over for coffee.
“I’m not really g*y,” he admitted, his voice just a little guilty.