Page 59 of Defending You

“And trying to have me killed? No way.” She couldn’t help the defensiveness that seeped into her tone. Forbes was practically part of her family now, soon to be her brother-in-law, if his relationship with Brooklynn progressed the way everyone guessed it would. “Forbes risked his life to get justice for his parents’ murders. He’s not playing some kind of game here. He wants that necklace back, and he wants the person who stole it to face justice.”

Her irritation must’ve seeped into her tone because Asher raised his hands. “All right, fair enough. Just brainstorming. You never know with rich people.”

What? What was he talking about?

She’d been trying not to argue with him, but that remark had her irritation flaring. “Money doesn’t make a person trustworthy or untrustworthy. Generous or greedy. Kind or cruel. My mom comes from old money, and she’s the kindest, most trustworthy, most generous person I know. I’ve met plenty of selfish rich people, but I’ve met a lot more selfish middle-class and poor people.” Though, to be fair, those were much larger groups. “You can’t judge someone’s character by their bank account.”

His gaze hardened, something bitter flickering in his eyes. “Maybe not, but it builds walls. You of all people should know that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Asher’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “We were ‘friends.’” The word dripped with scorn, his finger pointing from her to him and back. “But only up to a point. You knew who I was, where I came from, and that knowledge separated us.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t remember. You and your sisters and your mom on your little charity run, bringing Christmas gifts to my family. You saw where I lived, the rusty trailer.”

Her heart stuttered, shock washing over her.

The Wrights had always sponsored a local family at Christmastime. Mom would get a wish list from the church, and Cici and her sisters would have a blast shopping, crossing off every item on that list.

And then, every year, they’d deliver the wrapped presents. It was her favorite Christmas tradition.

She remembered the year they’d ventured into that rundown trailer park. She remembered dingy siding and a dilapidated front porch. She’d been sitting in the back seat of the SUV as Mom and Alyssa carried the gifts to the front porch. Cici and her sisters had wanted to go, too, but Mom insisted they wait in the car.

She hadn’t understood at the time, but she did now. What for them was an act of love and generosity was, for the recipients, a moment of shame.

Not that it should have been. Not everybody was blessed with financial resources. And people went through hard times. Her parents had drilled that lesson into Cici and her sisters, reminding them often that money didn’t make them who they were.

“You knew where I came from,” Asher continued. “So our friendship was always just you feeling…sorry for me. I never measured up.”

Cici visualized the situation from a different perspective. From inside the trailer, behind the windows. “I didn’t know… You lived there?”

“Oh, come on, Cici.” His eyes rolled. “Don’t lie. You knew.”

“I wouldn’t lie.” She pushed back her chair and stood. “And I didn’t know.”

“You saw me in the window.”

“I didn’t. If I saw someone—and I don’t remember that I did—I had no idea it was you. And I don’t appreciate your assumptions. Even if I had known, it wouldn’t have changed anything. You were my friend.”

He scoffed. “Right. Friends don’t laugh whenfriendsask them to prom.” He clamped his lips shut, and she had the distinct feeling he hadn’t meant to say that.

The memory hit her like a slap, and her cheeks burned.

She dropped back into the chair, afraid to look up and meet his gaze. She’d buried that moment, tried to forget how cruel she’d been. “I…” Her voice caught. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever done to another human being. I thought…I hoped you’d forgotten.”

“Forget?” His laugh was humorless. “I still have nightmares about it.”

Tears welled, and she pressed a hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Asher. I was young and selfish. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ve replayed that moment in my head a thousand times. It’s my penance. My…punishment for being so self-absorbed. Can you…?” She forced herself to meet his eyes. “Can you forgive me?”

His expression went from hard to worried in about half a second. “Oh, uh… I didn’t mean to… Look, I wasn’t trying to make you cry. I’m just?—”

“I deserve it.” She hid her face. “You’re right.”

“I didn’t say that.” He scooted closer and slipped his hands around her wrists, tugging them downward.

She didn’t fight him, just lowered her hands to her lap, letting him see her tears. Her shame.