Page 71 of Broken
The phone stops for a few seconds, then starts back up. Knowing it won’t stop until I answer it, I slide out from under Asher and make my way to the entryway with no pants on. That should probably be embarrassing, wandering around the apartment in nothing but a T-shirt that’s long enough to be a dress, but I’m past the point of caring about it.
I find my phone in my pants pocket and answer it.
“Yes, Mother?”
“What the hell took you so long?” she demands like she has the right.
“I’m busy. What do you want?” I lean my hip against the counter, smirking to myself at the mess we made just a few hours ago.
“Where the hell are you? Why aren’t there any boxes in here? It’s a seller’s market. You have until the end of the week to get your stuff out.”
She’s in my fucking apartment.
“First, get the hell out of my apartment. Second, I’ve been helping Asher deal with the loss of his father. I’msosorry that’s an inconvenience for you, but fuck off.” My voice rises until I’m shouting. How dare she talk to me like this. I’m done being a punching bag for her, a pawn for her to use to get the public’s attention. Done.
Footsteps sound in the hallway, and I feel bad for waking Asher. Sucking in a deep breath, I force myself to lower my voice. Mother is yelling into the phone, but I’ve pulled it away from my ear.
“You stay away from that boy! Are you really so selfish to ruin his life with your bullshit? You aren’t worth his career! He has no family left. He needs to focus on finding a nice young woman to create a life with. You can’t give him that, Elliot Martin! Leave him alone!” I know she’s wrong, but she sure knows how to feed into every insecurity I have.
Asher stops in the doorway to the kitchen and watches me. He takes in the state of the kitchen and my lack of pants, reads my face like the words are written on my skin.
Self-doubt starts eating at me the longer she rants, pointing out all my flaws and why I’m not lovable, not worth it. It’s so fucking hard to believe that someone like Asher can see past it all. I’m a mess. I have no direction. My mental health is in the toilet. I can’t give him kids, and my family sucks. So, what do I have to offer him?
He stalks toward me and cages me against his body, lifting my chin with his fingers.
“She’s wrong. Stand your ground. I won’t let you fight alone.”
With my eyes locked on his, I bring the phone back to my ear, and even with everything in me terrified to burn the only bridge I have left with my family, I speak.
“I’ll be out in time, and you don’t ever need to call me again.” I end the call, and Asher takes it from my hand, chucking it across the room.
“Good boy.” He cups my face and presses his lips to mine, our bodies melting together as I cling to him.
“Say ‘I am worth it’.” He holds my face so I can’t look away.
“You’re worth it.”
Asher gives me a hard look.
“Elliot.” My name is a warning, and his mouth forms a serious line. “Say it right.”
“I’m worth it.” My voice is so soft it can barely be heard.
“Louder.”
“I’m worth it.” My lower lip trembles as overwhelming emotions start to plague me.
“Again.”
“I’m worth it!” I yell this time with a tear running down my cheek.
“I’m enough,” he prompts.
“I am enough,” I manage to get out around the lump in my throat.
“I am lovable,” he prompts again.
My eyes slam shut, and a sob rips from the tattered parts left of my heart. Most of my life I was taught that I wasn’t lovable. If only I was more like Marcus or Asher, then I would be. Boys have to be tough and not likegirlythings. They can’t get emotional. I was never enough for my parents, never met any of my grandparents or aunts and uncles. The only people who ever loved me were Marcus, Asher, and Jordan.