Page 61 of Bleeding Hearts

Asher’s smile stays glued to his face, but his body is stiff where it’s normally relaxed. I can tell in the way he forces a laugh and his eyes shoot from side to side that he’s uncomfortable, that he wants out of this hospital and this situation.

“That doesn’t surprise me even a little.” I smile back at the doctor. “We should really get going, we’re here for the culinary convention so I need to get back over to the classes. But it was so nice to meet you,” I say, nudging Asher for us to get moving.

“Yeah, I’ve got to get her back, but it was great seeing you, Dr. Thomas.” Asher reaches his hand out to shake the man’s hand again before leaving.

“Great meeting you.” He smiles politely at me. “And so wonderful to see you, Asher. Will the two of you be coming to the dinner party at your parents’ house on Sunday?” He looks to Asher, who looks frozen to the spot, unsure of how to respond.

“We’re not sure yet,” I jump in, speaking for him. “It depends on the convention schedule.”

“Oh, of course.” He nods. “Well, I hope to see both of you again soon.” He smiles before turning to head back the way he was going before spotting us.

I turn to Asher, prepared to ask him what that whole thing was about. What did he mean by star patient? Was Asher injured as a kid? Or sick? Also, what about his parents’ dinner party? Does that mean his parents live here? My mind spirals with so many unanswered questions.

“Let’s go,” he says before I have a second to ask anything at all. He places his hand on my lower back, gently guiding me toward the parking lot and into the car.

The ride back to the hotel is silent, he doesn’t offer any explanations and I don’t ask, giving him the space to process.

I can tell he’s tense by the way he grips the steering wheel and keeps his eyes firmly on the road. A distinct contrast to the easygoing persona he normally has.

We get back to the hotel and after checking the time and seeing there’s another half an hour until the next lecture, I follow him to the room.

Neither of us speaks as we walk inside and he sits on the edge of the bed. He runs his hand through the top of his hair and lets out a deep breath as he does, steadying himself.

I sit down next to him, angling my body to him and wait for him to speak.

The words he says next are some that I never would have expected.

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

Asher

Anxiety surges through me at the speed of light as I sit next to Demi, prepared to lay out all of my biggest secrets. Being sick as a kid isn’t necessarily a secret, I guess.

I mean, it’s not something I’m ashamed of, just something I hate talking about because talking about it forces me to relive it all.

Nobody in my new life knows about my past. Not even Kade or King. It’s not something you just bring up in a random conversation. It’s not something I’ve ever known how to breach the topic of, even if I wanted to.

But after how confused I’m sure Demi is after the interaction with Dr. Thomas, I know I have to. I also know that if I really do ever want to try for something more with her, she deserves the truth.

“When I was fifteen years old, I was diagnosed with osteosarcoma,” I say, looking over to Demi.

“Cancer?” The word comes out as barely a whisper, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and concern.

“Yeah, cancer.” I let out a breath, steadying myself to get the rest of the story out. “I thought it was growing pains when my mom insisted on taking me to get checked out. After a couple of scans, they found a tumor on my femur.”

Demi reaches out, clasping my hand in hers. I look down to where our fingers intertwine. The warmth of her skin against my own gives me the comfort that I need in this moment.

She gives my hand a small squeeze, just letting me know that she’s there. That she’s listening.

“My whole life got turned upside down after that. I went from running across the field playing high school football to having bone cancer. I started chemotherapy pretty much right away to shrink the tumor. As a fifteen-year-old boy, I thought I was tough as shit.” A hollow laugh escapes my lips. “The chemo proved me way wrong. It was awful from the start. I was sick, I felt weak, and let me tell you, I do not look good bald.

“After the chemo, I had surgery to remove the rest of the tumor, followed by more chemo to kill whatever was left. The chemo was even worse the second time around. Eventually, I got through it, though. I was declared cancer free. That was about ten years ago now.”

“Asher…” She lets my name trail off her tongue, probably at a loss for what to say to all my history that I just dumped on her. “I’m so sorry you went through that. I had no idea.” She shakes her head, tears forming in her eyes.

That’s the thing about Demi. She cares so deeply and genuinely about other people that the tears don’t surprise me. She feels other people’s pain as if it’s her own. She’s overly kind in a way most people would see as a weakness, but I see it as her greatest strength.

“Thank you.” I squeeze her hand in mine. “And nobody does. It’s not something I really love to talk about,” I say, and she nods, understanding.

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