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Chapter Eleven

ASHER

I should be asleep. I should be curled against him, warm and boneless and content, the way people are supposed to be after sex. But instead I’m wide awake.

He’s next to me.

Blake.

His body is still warm from what we just did. His breath is steady. And mine isn’t.

I can feel him watching me from the corner of his eye. I don’t turn. I just stare at the ceiling like it has something to offer me.

Everything feels heavy.

My skin still hums from the way he touched me. The way he moved over me like I was something precious and ruined at the same time. He kissed me like he meant it. Fucked me like he owned it.

And maybe he did.

Maybe I let him.

But even now, as silence settles between us, I know something’s off.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

I don’t answer. My throat’s too tight.

He shifts slightly, reaches over, brushing his knuckles across my jaw like he thinks it’ll help. It only makes my chest tighten more.

Then he says it.

“Bambi.”

Soft. Thoughtless. Like it’s second nature. Like he’s said it a hundred times before.

I freeze.

“What did you just call me?”

Blake goes still. Completely still.

I sit up, slowly. Turn toward him.

He’s watching me like a man who knows he’s just stepped off a cliff.

“I—”

“No. Say it again.”

He doesn’t.

“Blake.” I straddle him, not to be close. Not to be sweet. I plant my hands on his chest and lean down, fire roaring through my chest. “How the fuck do you know that name?”

He says nothing.

So I slap him.

It’s not hard. Not yet.

But I want it to hurt.

He doesn’t flinch.

When I raise my hand again, he grabs my wrist.

“Enough,” he says.

“Enough?” I pull back, eyes narrowing. “Answer me, asshole.”

I wrench my arm from his grip and bolt off the bed. His phone is on the nightstand. No password. He’s too cocky for that.

My fingers fly across the screen. And there it is.

The truth.

The messages. The recordings. The receipts. The username.

Kaleb.

Blake.

Kaleb.

It’s him. It’s always been him.

“Oh my God.” My voice shakes. “You fucking knew me.”

I don’t wait for a reply. I’m already running. I storm down the stairs, phone clutched in my fist like it’s proof of the betrayal, the lie, the sick game he’s been playing since day one.

Behind me, I hear him call my name.

I had never run so fast in my life.

My feet pounded the floor as I flew down his stairs, Blake’s unlocked phone clutched in my hand. I didn’t even care if I tripped or fell at this point. I just needed to get out. Away from him. Away from that house.

From him.

Kaleb.

I knew it. Somewhere deep down, I knew. The way he touched me, the way he talked to me in sessions, the little smirks he tried to hide when he thought I wasn’t looking. But seeing the proof spelled out in his texts, the photos, the goddamn usernames, it shattered something I didn’t know I was still trying to protect.

He knew me. He knew me before I ever stepped into his office.

“You piece of shit,” I muttered, shaking, scrolling through message after message. “You knew me. You fucking knew me.”

I hit the bottom of the staircase and yanked open the front door. I didn’t even grab my jacket. My hands were trembling and my throat burned like I’d swallowed gravel.

He followed. Of course he did.

“Asher, baby, wait. Please let me explain.”

“Don’t call me that.”

I turned to face him, wild-eyed, heart hammering. He had the audacity to look concerned, like I was the one who’d just flipped reality inside out.

“You’ve been Kaleb this whole time?”

His mouth opened, then shut. “Yes.”

My voice cracked. “You were watching me? Talking to me? You sent me fucking gifts. You told me to wear a collar. You jerked off while I—”

He flinched. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“No. No, it’s really not.”

I hurled the phone at him. He didn’t catch it. It hit the carpet with a dull thud and slid.

“I hate you,” I said. “I hate you so much.”

I wanted him to bleed. I wanted him to suffer under the weight of the truth he’d buried while smiling at me across his big, perfect desk.

But instead of screaming, or hitting me back, or throwing me out, he stepped forward: slow, careful. Like I was a skittish animal.

“I didn’t plan to fall for you, Asher.” His voice was quiet now. “But I did. Long before you walked into my office. I didn’t even know it was you at first. I swear.”

“Bullshit.”

“I swear,” he repeated. “But once I knew... once I saw you in front of me, sitting across from me in that chair... I didn’t know how to stop.”

I backed away, not because I was scared, but because I didn’t trust myself not to break something.

“You watched me,” I said. “In my room. In my bed.”

“I never watched you without your consent. You knew the camera was on.”

I doubt it, highly doubt that he's telling the truth.

“That’s not what I mean.”

He looked down at the floor. His silence told me everything I needed to know.

I crossed my arms tightly, trying to hold myself together.

“What is wrong with you?”

He looked up. His expression was unreadable, but the pain in his eyes was sharp enough to pierce through my anger.

“Everything,” he said. “But so is everything about you. That’s why we match.”

The words caught me off guard. I stared at him. My brain refused to register what he just said as anything other than manipulation.

But it didn’t feel like that.

And that terrified me.

“You can’t keep doing this,” I said finally. “You can’t play both sides. You can’t be my therapist and Kaleb. You can’t say you care about me and then fuck me like I’m—like I’m—”

“I know,” he said. His voice cracked. “I know, Asher.”

He stepped forward again, slower this time. He didn’t reach for me. He didn’t try to touch me.

“I’ll quit,” he said. “I’ll step down as your therapist. Officially. I’ve already started the process. I couldn’t keep going after… after last night.”

That stopped me.

“You’re serious?”

He nodded. “I don’t want you in my life because you’re assigned to me. I want you in my life because you choose to be there.”

I shook my head. The world tilted under my feet. I hated him. I needed him.

I felt like I was going to puke.

Blake…Kaleb, whoever he was, ran a hand through his hair. He looked tired. Not the neat, controlled therapist I’d first met, but a man barely holding his mask together.

“I did horrible things, Asher,” he said. “I crossed lines I never should have crossed. I broke my own rules for you. And I’ll probably never forgive myself for how I did it.”

I hated how honest he sounded.

“But I didn’t lie about how I felt,” he said. “Not once.”

A silence fell between us. I didn’t know how long it lasted.

The street outside was quiet. The wind had picked up. I could hear the rustle of trees and my own uneven breathing.

I sat down on the steps, burying my face in my hands. “I don’t know what to do with you,” I mumbled.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said softly. “You can walk away. I’ll respect that. But I’m here. Not as your therapist. Not as Kaleb. Just as me.”

He stepped forward. Sat beside me on the step. He left space between us. Too much space.

We sat like that for a long time.

I don’t know what made me lean toward him. Maybe it was the quiet. Maybe it was the way he didn’t reach out, didn’t grab me or press his body against mine like before. Maybe it was just the fact that for the first time since everything exploded, I finally heard him breathing like I was.

Ragged. Uneven. Human.

I turned to him. He met my eyes.

“Do you remember what you said to me?” I asked.

His brow furrowed. “When?”

“In the room. When you thought I didn’t know who you were.”

He hesitated. “I said a lot of things.”

“You called me perfect,” I whispered.

His eyes softened. “Because you are.”

I should’ve hated it. Should’ve rolled my eyes or made some snide comment. But instead, I leaned in.

And he met me there.

The kiss wasn’t like the ones I’d imagined. It wasn’t hot or frenzied. It wasn’t Kaleb. It was Blake. Real. Still. And I could feel his restraint, the way he held himself back from devouring me.

It made my chest hurt.

When we finally pulled apart, I didn’t speak. Neither did he.

I just leaned into him. Let his warmth settle into me.

And for the first time in days, I let my eyes close without wanting to cry.

I don't know how much how much of what he was saying was truthful and which part was just him covering his tracks…

…but what really scared me was knowing how deep down, I didn't care .

I should care. A lot.

A lot more than this.

I shouldn't let him lie to me with this pretty words.

But fuck…what's the harm?

Right?

Jesus, I really was stupid.