Page 13 of Poison's Promise

“You’re a shit liar, you know that?” he mutters, but I can’t muster a response.

My focus is glued to Asher, who stands center stage next to Sydney, his presence commanding as ever.

Asher flashes that cocky grin of his out to the crowd. It’s like no time has passed at all, and yet, everything has changed.

My heart pounds so loudly, I’m sure Dex can hear it.

“Focus, Poison,” I tell myself, clenching my fists. But it's easier said than done when your past is standing right in front of you, singing his heart out.

“Why’d it have to be him?” I snap, feeling the weight of old wounds reopening.

“Because life’s a bitch,” Dex answers, hearing me. “And you’re saying him, so I know you know him. Who the fuck is he to you?”

“He’s my ex.” I reply, my voice shaking with more emotion than I’d like to admit.

On stage, Asher and Sydney are electric, their voices melding perfectly.

They move together like they’ve been doing this for years, and I hate how natural it looks. How natural it feels.

“Shit,” Dex says, more serious now. “That sucks and all, but don’t get distracted. We’ve got a job to do.”

“I’m not gonna let this get to me,” I mutter, forcing myself to scan the crowd.

But my eyes keep drifting back to Asher, to the way he commands attention without even trying. To the way his voice wraps around every word, making it impossible to ignore him.

Dex puts a hand on my shoulder, forcing me to look at him. “Want me to switch places with you? Might make it easier.”

“Thanks, but no. I can handle this.” But even as I say it, doubt creeps in. Can I really handle this? Handle him?

Dex pulls his hand off my shoulder. “All right, but if you need a break, just say the word.”

“Will do,” I promise, though I know I won’t. I can’t afford to show weakness. I’m not that kind of woman. I’ll handle whatever life throws at me, and I’ll do it with my head held high.

Sydney finishes her introduction, and the music starts up again.

Asher takes the lead, his voice filling the venue with a richness that’s always captivated me.

The crowd eats it up, swaying and singing along, lost in the magic of the moment.

“Keep it together,” I remind myself, though it feels like I’m trying to hold back a tidal wave with a paper cup.

Asher glances back toward backstage, his eyes scanning the shadows until they land on me again.

For a split second, our gazes lock, and the air between us crackles. God, there’s so much unresolved shit between the two of us.

All I got was a fucking text message from him saying we were over.

No call. No meet up. Nothing.

It showed just how much he didn’t respect me, and that hurt. It hurt me so easily.

I even tried to call him, but by the time I did, his number was no longer in service.

Asher’s gaze is hot on my skin, even from this distance.

His eyes seem to be searching for something. Maybe he’s trying to spot the differences in me. Maybe he’s just as surprised to see me as I am to see him.

A familiar melody begins and I see him strumming his guitar. His fingers moving effortlessly over the strings, plucking out notes that ring out over the drunk, cheering crowd.

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