Page 30 of Moonlit Thorns

I don’t stop running until my lungs burn, and I find myself in a clearing I assume must be the center of the maze. It’s a large square, and in the middle is a bush of some kind. On all four sides are stone benches.

Still trying to catch my breath, I step closer to the plant and realize that it’s a large rose bush, though it appears it’s seen better days. There’s significant dieback on some of the stems, and the few red roses appear withered and unhealthy. The petal of one falls and drifts down to the grass below.

“Anabelle.”

I freeze at Asher’s voice so close to me now. There’s a hint of relief in it, presumably because he found me.

I face him, the instinct not to give my back to a predator strong. He steps forward, and I hold my hand out in front of me. “Please stay there.”

His shoulders sag, and he bows his head, heaving a breath and pushing a hand through his unruly hair. It’s no longer slicked back and styled to perfection, but a mess of waves on top of his head that hang down toward his ears. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

His words sound sincere, but what if it’s a ploy to get me to let my guard down?

“Can we talk?” He gestures to one of the benches. When I hesitate, he adds, “Please?”

I nod and make my way over, being sure to sit at the far end. But the benches aren’t huge, and with his size, when he sits, we’re almost touching.

There’s only remorse on his face.

“You scared me,” I say in a small voice.

Asher’s lips tip down. “I know.” He shakes his head, and it comes off as disappointment in himself. “I’m sorry I lost my temper.”

“I didn’t know it was your mother’s room. Marcel just put me there, but I had every intention to figure out something else for tomorrow night.”

He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, hands clasped behind his neck while he stares at the ground.

“I never would have agreed to sleep there if I’d known it was your mother’s room. I’m sorry.”

“It hasn’t been her room for a long, long time.” There’s so much anguish in that one sentence that I’m not sure how to unpack it.

I know what it feels like to lose a parent before you’re ready. I don’t know many details about his mother or how she died or when, and I find myself wanting to know more. I risk Asher pushing me away with my next words. “When did your mother pass away?”

His hands drop from the back of his neck, and he slowly turns his head to meet my gaze. “She was killed when I was twelve.”

My chest squeezes. He was so young. It doesn’t escape me that he said she was killed, not died. But I don’t dare ask for any further details.

“That must have been very difficult. You were so young.” I know that’s putting it mildly, but I don’t know what else to say.

He straightens up and nods. “Yeah… my mother was one of the only good things in my life, besides my brothers, so when she was killed, I felt… alone.”

I know his dad was still around for six years after his mother died, but they obviously weren’t close. It feels like there’s a lot to unpack there, but not now.

A sad sort of chuckle slips out of him. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

The truth falls from my lips. “I’m glad you are.”

Our gazes lock and hold for three breaths. I know because I count them.

“I don’t have to stay in that room. I can sleep on the couch in staff quarters or something.”

He shakes his head and glares at me before I even finish speaking. “You’ll stay in that room. It’s fine.”

I don’t argue with him. “You said it was your mom’s room… not your parents’.”

I’m digging. I know I am. But I want to know everything and anything about this man. Who knows how long this open dialogue between us will last?

Asher’s jaw tightens. “My parents probably started out sharing a room. I have no idea. No recollection of that time. They didn’t have a good marriage. My father… he was a difficult man.”

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