Page 30 of Defending What's Mine

But as the minutes tick by, and sleep continues to elude me, one thought keeps repeating in my mind…

I’m falling for her. And there’s no stopping it.

14

Charlotte

After breakfast, the air is crisp and inviting, the kind of morning that practically begs you to go outside. Asher looks up from his phone and catches me staring out the window.

“Want to take a walk?” he asks, his voice casual but with that ever-present undertone of authority.

I hesitate for half a second, then nod. “Sure.”

We step outside and start down one of the resort’s winding trails. The path is lined with tall pines and soft moss, and the morning sunlight filters through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground. It’s beautiful, peaceful even, but my mind is anything but quiet. Being around Asher tends to have that effect.

For a while, we walk in comfortable silence. His strides are steady and confident, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. I steal a glance at him, noticing the sharp cut of his jawline and the way the sunlight catches the flecks of gold in his gray eyes. It’s infuriating how effortlessly good-looking he is.

“So,” I say, breaking the silence, “tell me something about yourself.”

“Like what?” he asks, glancing at me.

“I don’t know. Start with where you grew up.”

He smirks faintly, like he’s humoring me. “I grew up in a small town in Colorado. Not much to say about it. Quiet, lots of open space, not a whole lot of people.”

“Sounds... peaceful,” I say, trying to picture him as a kid, running through wide fields or climbing trees. “Were you always the strong, silent type?”

He chuckles softly. “Not always. But growing up in a small town, you learn to keep your head down and your mouth shut. Especially when your dad’s the sheriff.”

“Your dad was the sheriff?” I ask, genuinely intrigued.

“Yeah,” he says, his tone a mix of fondness and something heavier. “He was a good man. Tough, but fair. Taught me a lot about right and wrong.”

“And your mom?” I ask gently.

“She passed when I was young,” he says simply, his gaze fixed on the trail ahead. “It was just me, my dad, and baby sister after that.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, my heart aching a little for him. “That must’ve been hard.”

He shrugs, but I can tell the memory is still there, just beneath the surface. “It was a long time ago. But yeah, it shaped me.”

I don’t press further, sensing he’s not ready to go deeper. “What about the military?” I ask instead. “What made you decide to join?”

He’s quiet for a moment, as if weighing how much to share. “I wanted to get out of Colorado, see more of the world. And I guess I wanted to make a difference, in whatever way I could.”

“Did you?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Sometimes,” he says with a small smile. “Sometimes not. But I learned a lot. About people, about myself. It wasn’t easy, but I don’t regret it.”

I nod, filing that away. Asher is like a puzzle, each piece giving me a little more insight into the man he is. And the more I learn, the more I... like him. Which is dangerous.

“What about you?” he asks, breaking into my thoughts. “What was growing up Charlotte Lane like?”

I laugh softly, kicking at a loose pebble on the trail. “Not as exciting as Colorado or the military, that’s for sure. I grew up in a house where appearances were everything. My parents were always throwing parties, attending galas, making sure the Lane name stayed sparkling and untouchable.”

He looks at me, his expression unreadable. “Did you like it?”

“Not really,” I admit. “It always felt... fake. Like we were putting on a show for everyone else while ignoring what was really happening.” And I want to tell him this is the first time in my life where it feels real. This fake engagement is the most real thing that has happened to me.

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