Page 37 of Third Time Lucky

He nods. ‘Wisdom stems from trauma.’

‘That it does,’ I agree. ‘I don’t even know why I expect more from men or why I even bother with this dating game any more. Everyone I love eventually leaves.’

Ash frowns, visibly conflicted on how to respond to that.

Take it all back, Lucy. You sound like a loser.

‘Anyway, Tanner wasn’t a “real” date, he was just Madi setting up another pity date while urging me to use him for my pleasure. But using guys isn’t really who I am and Madi doesn’t have the best taste. Brandon is proof of that.’

‘Another pity date? Who was the first one?’

How could he possibly forget? It’s one of those memories that cling to you, refusing to fade.

‘Come on, Ash. You were the first.’

He grimaces slightly like its unwelcome news. ‘Me? I was your first pity date?’ he asks, placing a hand on his chest. ‘When?’

‘Prom?’ I reply, torn between surprise and hesitation.

He shakes his head repeatedly. ‘That wasn’t a pity date,’ he presses back.

I tilt my head, pointing the knife in his direction. ‘You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you?’

‘No,’ he insists earnestly, ‘I did that?—’

‘For Kris,’ I interject, completing his thought.

His name tumbles out more easily this time, the result of one tipsy phone call. Naming him out loud doesn’t feel as awkward any more, yet it stirs a mix of emotions within me. We share this connection, after all; we should be able to talk about it.

He looks at me puzzled but affirms softly, ‘Mostly, I did that for you.’

He did that for me? No way.

I return my focus to the celery, chopping it meticulously. My mind, however, drifts through a tangled web of memories and emotions, unsure of where I stand.

Sure, Asher and I had seen one another a lot in those two weeks, with the funeral and events that come along with a sudden death. But the last thing I ever expected was for him to call and tell me to get ready; he was taking me to the prom I’d been looking forward to for months.

I was as delighted as a teen in mourning could be not to miss my senior prom. But at the same time, I was torn, feeling like I was doing something I shouldn’t be – cheating on a boyfriend who no longer existed, and afraid the night would be like walking on a tightrope of fragile glass, where every word threatened to shatter and leave us tumbling into a pool of grief-stricken tears. It didn’t, though. If I remember right, Asher kept me laughing most of the night. My God, do I miss green flags too?

‘Why would you do that for me?’ I ask, my curiosity battling with the hesitation in my voice.

His smile is bittersweet. ‘After weeks of relentless tears and heart-wrenching mourning, I knew you needed to find your smile again. And I felt responsible, so I wanted to help you do that.’

Our eyes meet, creating a bubble of shared reflection.

‘You felt responsible? For what?’

His face crumbles, his brows knit tightly, and he nods solemnly. ‘Everything. The accident. Your shattered heart. My shattered heart. All of it.’

My heart sinks through my chest. ‘Ash, that is so much to take on as a teen. You weren’t responsible for any of it.’

‘My mind knows that. But here…’ He presses his hand against his chest with a sense of desperation. ‘My heart refuses to accept it. But enough about that. On prom night, you managed to smile more than you cried and that helped me more than you’ll ever understand. That night transformed me, etching itself as one of those pivotal memories I sometimes despise, because I remember everything.’

He remembers everything? I am at a loss for words. His heart stubbornly clings to the belief that he is to blame, and mine is racked with sorrow at the thought of him bearing this burden for so many years. Yet on prom night, despite his torment, he summoned every ounce of strength to keep me smiling. He wielded humor like a sword, danced with reckless abandon, and mastered the art of distraction with unmatched skill. But I never would have guessed he was feeling this way inside.

I’m tempted to delve into this right now, but my heart screams to leave that Pandora’s box tightly shut until he’s ready – and for now, I’ll heed its warning. It’s time to wield my magic power and steer the conversation elsewhere.

‘Do you like cooking?’ I ask as I dice.

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