“Asher, I can’t…I can’t breathe.”
“You can. You’re doing so good, Grace. Please, don’t die,” I start to get choked up because out of all the people in my life that are assholes, she’s the one person I consider a friend. Police sirens sound outside, but I haven’t even put the phone up to my ear yet.
How the hell are the police here already?
I lay my phone on the ground, then sit down next to her. I take the hand that doesn’t have crooked and broken fingers and gently hold it. I lean down as her chest rattles and whisper in her ear. “You have to be okay. You have to. You can’t leave me here. You live. You tell me who did this to you, and I’ll bring you justice. I swear.”
She doesn’t answer back. Her eyes are closed, and her chest isn’t moving. “Grace? Hey, Gracie, answer me.”
I wait for her to moan, to breathe, but nothing is happening. “No! No, no, no!” I push her onto her back, and I place my ear against her chest, listening for a heartbeat. I sit up, inhale a sharp breath, and my mind goes blank on what to do. Her heart isn’t beating. She isn’t breathing. My hands have blood on them. I’ve never seen so much blood.
I’m going to be sick.
I lay my hands on her chest and think about what I’ve seen in the movies. I don’t know what I’m doing. Fuck! I brush my forehead on the back of my arm and press her chest. “Please, breathe. Please.” Tilting her chin back, I part her lips and immediately taste blood while I breathe into her mouth. “Come on Grace, don’t let who did this to you win.”
She gasps but doesn’t open her eyes. A scared chuckle leaves my mouth as I tilt backward, collapsing on my ass. My hands are covered in blood, no doubt I have some on my face too, and my shirt is ruined.
The door bursts in, police officers and paramedics rush in, and people from the party linger.
“Oh, thank god, you’re here—”
They draw their guns and point. “Don’t move! Get on the ground. Lay down on the ground right now.”
“Woah, okay. Hey, I didn’t do this. I found her like this. She’s my friend. She needs help,” I say, and the cop shoves me down by placing his boot between my shoulder blades. “I didn’t do this! What the fuck?”
“Asher, don’t say a word. We will take care of this,” my dad says from the doorway.
“You have the right to remain silent…” the cop reads me my Miranda rights as he slaps the cuffs on me. This can’t be real. I can’t be getting arrested for something I didn’t do. The cuffs are tight, biting into my skin, and they shove me through the crowd. I look behind me to see the paramedic placing an oxygen mask over Grace’s face.
God, I hope she is okay.
“Grace! Is it Grace?” Heather parts through the crowd, mascara dripping down her cheeks from the tears, and when she sees me, the hate she has for me turns to daggers. “What did you do to her?” she shoves me in the chest. “What did you do!”
“Nothing. I swear, Heather. I didn’t do a thing. I found her like that. I tried to help her,” I explain as the cop pushes me forward.
I’m crushed when I hear Heather scream as they wheel Grace out of the room. My ears ring from the deafening noise and the stares I’m getting from people…
I’ve never felt so small.
This is really bad. Really fucking bad.
Looks like being rich and famous doesn’t matter at all.
One
Heaven
Present Day
In each arm, I have a newborn twin. They are brand-spanking-new. Three days old and their mom Quinn is resting, along with Jaxon, and since I’m the proud new owner of the Uncle title, I’m going to watching Shrek with them.
“Do you know the muffin man?” the gingerbread man asks the short prince on Shrek. I mouth every word since I’ve seen it a hundred times, but every time I watch it, it’s like the first.
I bounce Holland in my right arm, pretending she’s talking to Holt, her brother. “The muffin man?”
“The muffin man,” I lift Holt up next, saying the words in a lower voice that I think would be his.
I chuckle when the twins don’t move. Holy crap, they are cute. They look just like Quinn, thank god. One of Jaxon’s ugly mug is good enough.
“You realize they don’t can’t watch tv yet, right?” Owen says from behind me, crunching down on something.
“I know. It is never too early to get introduced to the classics.”
“You consider Shrek a classic?” he asks, leaving me gasping.
“I can’t cover their ears right now, but they don’t need that kind of negativity in their life.”
“They can’t understand what I’m saying. They are a second old, Heaven.”
“Owen, you never know what their tiny brains can process. We are going to have a movie marathon today. Julia is going to bake us muffins and all kinds of stuff.” I glance down at Holland as she croons, and it melts my heart. “Aw, isn’t that right, little girl? You aren’t allowed to date until you’re thirty— no— make it thirty-five. The only muffins you eat are going to be the ones cooked for you.”
“And you’re telling me to watch my mouth, really? Muffins?”
“What? You don’t know. She might be gay.”
“She’s a baby, Heaven. A baby.” Owen pinches the bridge of his nose, exasperated with me.
I love making him crazy. I readjust the babies in each arm and wince when the stitches pull in my chest.
“Shit, are you okay? Do I need to take them for a second?” Owen hears me grunting in pain and kneels on the ground next to the couch. I can see the guilt written on his face as he stares at my chest.
Owen was in a blind rage, pushed me through the sliding glass door, and a shard of glass pierced through my back and chest, missing my heart by centimeters. I don’t blame him. I don’t hold any anger toward him, and I think it bothers Owen. He is holding himself accountable. He is making himself feel guilty enough. Why would I add to that? Owen is a good guy, fighting for something he loved.
I know what that is like, and I know what it is like to feel fucking horrible about something that you feel like is out of your control. Owen is a good friend. Why would I punish him more when he is punishing himself enough?
“Actually, could you take them? I need to get up and walk around. I don’t trust myself to walk with them yet.”
“Yeah, of course. Anything you need. I’m your guy. I got this,” Owen reaches for Holt, cradling him in his giant arm, then Holland and his face softens when he is holding them. He’s about to be a dad too.
For the second time.
Owen had something truly fucking awful happen to him twenty years ago. His pregnant wife got murdered, along with their little girl, and he was a frozen man ever since.
Until he met Jolie.
And now she’s pregnant, and I haven’t seen him so happy. He’s a natural father. It’s like he already knows what to do. He’s going to be great. I couldn’t be happier for him.
I’m the lone wolf, the bachelor of the house, the single man.
I hate it.
I’ve been stuffing my face with muffins and anything else I can get because I’m stress-eating. It’s hard to see everyone so damn happy and in love, and here I am, the playboy, the youngest of the group.