Rebound (Seattle Steelheads #1)(79)

I can live with your nightmares.

I just don’t want you to leave.

I didn’t even care how pathetic it was. It was the truth, and at least for tonight, I wasn’t apologizing for it.





Chapter 23


Geoff



That was one long, miserable night. Asher didn’t sleep for shit. I didn’t sleep for shit. By the time the sun came up, I was a ball of exhaustion and frustration, and even though I had no idea how I was going to consume enough caffeine to make it through the day, giving up on sleeping was a relief.

He was out cold, so he must have finally dozed off. Lucky him.

Careful not to wake him, I slipped out of bed and into the shower.

I wasn’t sure how many nightmares I’d had last night. Enough that I remembered waking up several times, at least three of those with Asher also startled awake beside me, and it had taken forever for both of us to get back to sleep each time.

It figured that when I was stressed out—when I desperately needed sleep so my head would be together enough to deal with that stress—was when the nightmares crashed down on me the hardest. During my pre-war days, I’d struggled to sleep if things were off between me and Valerie, but at least we could usually push through the fatigue and sort everything out by the light of day.

Now? Fuck, I wished. The stress made the nightmares worse, and by morning, I was an exhausted, shaky wreck with a head full of combat memories, and I was worse than useless at things like sorting out relationships or emotions. I couldn’t think clearly.

Except this morning, I could think clearly about some things. Specifically, about every goddamned thing my asshole ex had said the other night about the man who was still sleeping in the next room.

What if Marcus is right?

For days, my brain had fixated on that, and I’d known it would go away as soon as I saw Asher again last night.

Except it hadn’t. And last night had been a struggle because I’d wanted things to be normal with Asher, but they’d refused to be because of Marcus’s voice in my ear, and then there’d been nightmares all fucking night, and now I didn’t know which goddamned way was up.

It hadn’t bothered me to talk to Asher about Marcus. What bothered me was how much Marcus was on my mind all evening and all night. The things he’d said had burrowed under my skin, and every time I told myself they were lies, some part of me asked, “You sure about that?”

Asher isn’t going to use money or my kids against me.

You sure about that?

He isn’t out fucking other guys while he’s on the road.

You sure about that?

He isn’t just a fling who’ll run out before my mid-life crisis does.

You sure about that?

I wanted to say I was sure, but I’d been so sure about Marcus too. That he loved me. That he was devoted to me and to my kids. That he wasn’t out cheating. That he wasn’t using his money or my kids as weapons to control me. But I’d been wrong about him. What if I was wrong about Asher too?

Against my will, my mind kept circling back to the idea that I was a forty-something cop without a whole lot to offer a twenty-something millionaire athlete.

“You’re going to have a harder time holding on to a twenty-something who can have anyone he wants,” Marcus had said. “Once a man has access to something younger and hotter, why would he stick around for something that’s over the hill?”

It didn’t matter that I was aware Marcus had been trying to get under my skin and fuck with my head. That was the thing with people like him—the manipulative shit they said worked because it made sense. Even knowing what I did, I couldn’t tell myself for sure that he was wrong, because it did make sense.

So how much of that was genuine concern about my relationship with Asher, and how much of it was Marcus’s voice in the back of my mind? How much of this was my ex putting poison in my ear, and how much—if any—was real?

Son of a bitch. I’d thought my encounter with Marcus had brought all my insecurities back to the surface. Reopened all the wounds he’d left.

But it hadn’t. Because they’d already been there. They’d never closed in the first place.

And there was one question I couldn’t answer or avoid:

If I’m this insecure, am I ready to be with anyone?

I wanted to be with Asher. God, I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anyone. But was I ready for this? Was I ready to be Asher’s boyfriend? Or was I still too busy being Marcus’s ex? How many of my feelings for Asher were really for him, and how many were for the novelty of not walking on eggshells, not being manipulated, and not feeling like I deserved to be treated like shit?

I didn’t have an answer, and with a sinking feeling, I realized that was my answer. If I couldn’t tell where my freedom from Marcus ended and my feelings for Asher began, then I wasn’t being fair to him or to myself by pretending I could.

Sighing, I rubbed my neck with both hands under the cascade of hot water. That was what it came down to, wasn’t it? I wasn’t ready for a future because my past wasn’t done with me yet? Because of Marcus, I wasn’t ready for Asher, no matter how much I wanted to be. Pretending otherwise wasn’t fair to Asher, to my kids, or to me.

I guess I know what I have to do.

Asher was gone when I got out of the shower, so I assumed he’d gone downstairs to make coffee. After I’d dressed, I went down to the kitchen, and sure enough, there he was.