The punching bag swung toward me, and I hit it again, harder this time. Thud. My knuckles stung through the thin wraps I’d found outside Asher’s cabin. I didn’t even know why I’d grabbed them. Maybe because my body needed somewhere to release the energy buzzing under my skin. Maybe because my brain wouldn’t shut up. Pierre’s confession. The way the room had cracked open, with years of hurt spilling out. I swung again.
“Claire.” His voice came from behind me, low and rough. I froze mid-punch.
Asher stepped closer, hands in his pockets, shoulders tense in way I’d never seen before. He looked tired. I lowered my fists.
“How are you holding up?” I asked quietly.
He blinked, like the question surprised him. “I should be asking you that.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine.” It couldn’t be farther from the truth, but it wasn’t me who had their whole world as they knew it blow up tonight. He didn’t call me on it. “I’m sorry,” I said instead. “For… all of that. I feel like I opened a whole can of worms tonight.”
Asher exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “That’s not on you.” His voice was firm. “None of this is your fault. Dad keeping secrets… that’s on him.”
I looked down at my hands. “Still. It happened because of me. Because of Sophie.”
He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the warmth coming off him.
“The secrets were always here,” he said quietly. “You didn’t create them. You just… exposed them.”
The bag swayed gently between us. “I don’t get it,” I admitted. “Why now? Why tell you guys after all these years?”
Asher stared past me for a moment, thinking. “I have a theory,” he said finally.
“What?”
He shrugged slightly. “Watching you chase answers. Watching you refuse to let go.” His gaze met mine. “Maybe it reminded him of Mom. Maybe he realized keeping quiet didn’t protect anyone.”
That landed heavily. I swallowed. “How are you and your brothers holding up?”
He laughed softly, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “I don’t know. We spent years hurting after Mom left, and my dad watched us struggle. What does that say about him?”
“It says he was in a very difficult position. He had to choose between appeasing your mom with charges that wouldn’t stick or waiting to get a proper prosecution,” I said.
“After all these years, Bellerose keeps getting off. Harmony gave them enough evidence to put him away, but then there’s technicalities and poof. The man walks,” Asher said with a pain in his voice that hit me in the center of my chest.
“Becket said that something bigger is going on. Maybe this time your mom’s friend will receive the justice she deserved,” I said quietly.
He stepped toward me. “How are you holding up?”
“My head is spinning. Did Sophie really receive justice? Who wrote that note? Was it Nico? My gut tells me it’s him, and I want to go back to see him,” I confessed.
“That’s dangerous,” Asher said firmly. He wasn’t wrong, but I felt like I was close to a breakthrough.
“I won’t go see him. I told Becket I’d stay away while the police investigate and do their job, but it isn’t easy,” I confessed.
I took a step closer to him without thinking. It felt like there was gravity pulling us together.
“That’s a lot,” he said softly, and he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His eyes dropped to my mouth for a second before lifting again.
“Yeah,” I murmured. “We make quite a pair.”
Silence stretched. The night air felt thick. Charged.
“You know,” I said quietly, “you don’t have to pretend you’re okay all the time.”
He smiled faintly. “I don’t pretend with you, Claire.”
Something shifted between us. His eyes locked with mine, and he swallowed as he moved first this time, just a fraction closer. My breath caught.