Chapter 114

MADDISON

Asher stays true to his word about taking me horseback riding. Unfortunately, I can’t ride Black, Violet’s horse. I recall Violet’s fearful warning from a few months back.

Her eyes were filled with sorrow, her voice trembling at the thought of losing her cherished companion. Horses have always been my sanctuary. There’s something magical about them.

The entire experience of riding, of merging with the horse—it gives you a sense of liberation. Freedom is all I’ve ever yearned for.

But now that I have it, I find myself missing…missing who I used to be. Without any rules or directions, I feel adrift.

This was one of my fears about leaving therapy, but Carmen assured me that I would grow to appreciate my newfound freedom. I guess that’s why I willingly mounted a massive white horse named Boux, who belongs to Asher’s sister.

We’ve ventured far into the meadow, amidst wilting flowers and falling leaves. The scenery is breathtaking, and I lose myself in the moment, urging the horse beneath me to keep going.

Boux carries us dutifully, while Asher walks beside us with his horse. The silence is comforting—the kind that brings peace.

It’s the kind of silence that’s filled with contentment. We’re just two people, relishing the view, experiencing life from the horse’s perspective.

Somehow, our hands find each other, stretching out between us as the horses walk side by side. I’ve never seen horses walk so close together. They’re usually skittish creatures, but I suppose there’s a first time for everything.

Sadly, the time comes for us to return to the stables as dinner is approaching. Violet wanted to check on me earlier, but she was too occupied, and I sort of avoided her, hiding while waiting for Asher to finish his session.

Truth be told, I harbor resentment toward Violet. She forced me to confront my inner demons, to dredge up buried memories, reopening old wounds.

Sure, it was “for my own good,” but shouldn’t that decision have been mine? I guess I wouldn’t be here if I had chosen my own path.

If it weren’t for Callum, I might be six feet under, decomposing alongside my mother down south. The thought is almost unbearable.

I stay close to Asher as he tends to the horses, feeding them and putting away the gear. He asks me to refill their water.

I’m secretly relieved that he insists on leaving everything as we found it, as it means spending less time inside the house with his family. Don’t get me wrong, I know his family, but there were no pretenses before.

I had a purpose then, and that formed a relationship based on necessity. Now, why would they want a relationship with me? What use do they have for me?

Carmen tells me that relationships aren’t transactional, but I disagree. For me, relationships have always been about give and take.

One party always gives, the other always takes… It makes me wonder about Asher and me.

Who’s the giver and who’s the taker in our relationship, and how will that shape our future?

“Coming?” Asher asks, extending his hand to me.

I glance at his large, mud-streaked hand. Despite the dirt, I hesitantly place my hand in his, marveling at the connection between us.

Touch has always been a transaction for me, and right now, I’m using him to help me feel at ease as we head toward his family’s home. I nod, because of course, I’ll follow him. I wouldn’t be here without him, so why would I refuse?

He smiles at me, his eyes gentle, and he leans in to kiss my temple before leading me out of the stables and toward the large barn. We cross the yard to the house, entering swiftly.

The house is filled with sounds, a stark contrast to the eerie silence of this morning. The sound of piano keys fills the air, accompanied by the sweet giggles and singing of Asher’s little sisters.

It’s a sound that’s so pure, so innocent, it brings to mind an old saying my father used to repeat: “Children should be seen and not heard.”

He’d said it countless times, but here, in this house, the children are heard and not seen. It’s a stark contrast, really. Violet and her husbands encourage the very thing my father found repugnant.

How I wish I could have grown up in a family as loving as Asher’s. One of Asher’s older sisters descends the staircase, a child who looks a lot like his younger sisters perched on her hip.

Her joy at seeing Asher is clear as day as she beams at him. The little boy reaches up to play with her brown hair as she wraps an arm around Asher in a side hug.

I can’t quite recall if she’s Ella or Tilly, but she flashes me a warm smile, greeting me as she passes by. She then walks between the grand staircases and disappears into a room on the left.

“Wow, she didn’t scowl at you,” Asher observes, pulling me closer to him as we continue our journey.

Turns out, it’s Violet who’s playing the piano in the room on the right. Lorelei and India are running around, wands in hand, singing a nursery rhyme.

Asher’s face lights up, and he lets go of my hand to scoop up the two girls. He lifts them high in the air, completely lost in the moment.

The girls squeal with delight, their arms outstretched as Asher parades them around the large sofa. I find myself lingering in the doorway, a smile tugging at my lips as I watch this beautiful scene unfold.

It’s a glimpse into a future we could have. Maybe one day, our children would be the ones on Asher’s shoulders, squealing with joy as their Daddy plays with them.

But then, the memory of the surgery that took away half of my reproductive system comes crashing down on me. The doctors had warned me about the reduced chances of getting pregnant and the increased risk of another tubal pregnancy.

And then there’s the fact that maybe I shouldn’t become a mother for reasons that are all too clear. My mood plummets, my smile fading into a frown.

I can feel it—the onset of a panic attack. It’s something I can’t escape from yet can’t let take over either.

I’m not prepared to deal with this, not outside of the center. So I stand there, frozen, my eyes wide as I try to hide the hyperventilation that’s threatening to consume me.

My mind races with the uncertainty of it all. I can never have that; I can never give Asher that life.