“It’s not about the race or even the promise.” Every word scraped like rusted nails against tender flesh on their way out, but I forced myself to continue. “It’s about the pattern. It’s about compulsively choosing to do something that leads to self-harm. You said the race was the only way to settle things with Holchester, but what about all the times before that? You’ve crashed before. We talked about it in Japan. You understand the danger, and you know how”—my voice broke—“you know how it would kill me if anything happened to you.”
Asher didn’t respond, but the rise and fall of his chest quickened like he couldn’t quite get enough air into his lungs.
“Do you know how I felt when I first saw the news? There was a period of time when I was convinced you were dead, and it tore me apart.” Another tear spilled down my cheek and salted my tongue. “You say that was the last time, but what happens when someone challenges you again or your emotion gets the better of you?”
“It won’t.” A thread of panic infused his response. “The race with Bocci really was the last time. I…” He faltered.
“Promise?” I finished with a sad smile. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that actions speak louder than words. I want to believe you, Asher. I really do. Because I…” I love you. The words hovered on the tip of my tongue before I swallowed them. They went down like jagged pills. “I care about you, and that’s why I can’t—I can’t be with you.” The realization tore at me with vicious claws, making me stumble and turning my voice into a shredded version of itself. “I can’t stand by and watch you self-destruct.”
I couldn’t force him to change nor did I want to. The change had to come from him, but if I stayed knowing he was still on that path of self-destruction, I would be silently condoning his actions.
I loved him too much to do that.
Asher went deathly still. He stared at me, his eyes a firestorm of emotion that scorched every inch of bare skin. “Are you breaking up with me?” The shock, the pain in his voice was so raw that it almost undid me.
“I…” Just say it. Finish what you’ve started. “I’ll always care about you,” I repeated. I sounded like a broken record, but I was too exhausted and drained to scrounge for new turns of phrase. “But until you exhibit the same care for yourself, we can’t be together. It’s not…I…it’s not possible.”
The tears were falling fast and hard now. I tried to wipe them away, but there were too many of them, and my efforts were futile.
So I let them fall silently, though their release did nothing to ease the suffocating pressure in my chest.
Asher hadn’t moved. He hardly breathed. If it weren’t for the tiniest tremor of his muscles, I would’ve thought him a statue, frozen in disbelief.
“Scarlett.” When he finally spoke, his voice cracked on my name. The two halves of my heart splintered into a thousand more pieces. “Don’t do this. Not after everything we’ve been through.”
“I’m sorry.” I held on to the barre for strength, but it felt cold and impersonal—an indifferent observer to my suffering. “I’ve made up my mind.”
“You said you cared about me, and I care about you. More than anything else in this world.” A rough plea hoarsened his words. “Please, darling. I know I broke my promise once, but I’ll never do it again. Not when I know it means losing you.”
It would be so easy to give in. To collapse into his arms and let him sweep us away from this excruciating torment.
On the surface, his reasoning made sense. Why shouldn’t we be together? There was nothing holding us back now but ourselves.
Except we were often our own biggest obstacles, and if I papered over our issues now, they would only fester and grow in the future.
“That’s the problem,” I said, my voice just above a whisper. “I can’t be the only reason you don’t race anymore. The fact you don’t understand that is why I…why we need space.”
“Scarlett.” This time, my name wasn’t a plea; it was a prayer.
Asher reached for me, but I instinctively pulled away. I was already treading a shaky line; if he touched me, it would be over.
My lungs knotted into a messy tangle. I couldn’t be near him. Not right now. I needed…he needed…
Oxygen thinned, making me lightheaded.
“Please leave,” I begged. His response might not have been a plea, but mine was.
Asher remained silent. I could barely see past my veil of tears, but I could feel his anguish.
It seeped through my defenses like acid, eating through resolve and determination to reach the vulnerabilities shielded beneath.
I forced myself to harden against the offense. “Do you remember the favor you owe me? When I agreed to watch the horror movie that first night I slept over at your house?”
Asher’s breaths were heavy and ragged in the otherwise silent studio. “Don’t.”
“I’m calling it in now.” I hated tainting that night with today’s poison, but I had no choice. “Please go.”
My last sentence was nearly inaudible.
For a second, I thought he wouldn’t leave, but Asher kept his word.
“If you need me,” he said, so softly and rawly I almost didn’t hear him. “I’m here.”
Then he left, taking his warmth and promises with him.
I waited until the sound of his footsteps faded before I sank onto the floor and pulled my knees to my chest. I buried my face in my elbow and finally gave in to my grief.
It gushed up, bitter and acrid, to pour out of my throat in silent, heaving sobs. My shoulders shook, and the tears flowed so endlessly that I was sure I wouldn’t survive this. I couldn’t have that much moisture left. I would simply dry up and wither away into a husk of my former self.
I wasn’t a stranger to pain. I lived with it every day, and some days were worse than others.
But I’d never experienced pain like this—like thousands of metal teeth were gnawing through my ribcage, tearing flesh and bone into shreds. When they reached their bounty—the beating, vulnerable organ responsible for their existence—they feasted on it, mangling it beyond recognition.
Soon, even my sobs hurt, but I could no more stop them than I could stop the agony marching through my chest.
This wasn’t the pain of my muscles rebelling or my body protesting against overexertion. It wasn’t even the despair I fell into after Rafael left. I thought I’d loved him at the time, but what I felt for him was mere infatuation compared to what I felt for Asher.
No. This? This inescapable, indescribable torment?
