His jaw tightens at the mention of his brother's name. "Caleb panicked yesterday. He came at me full force. I lashed out. I think I hurt him."
I smile softly at the idea that Asher could cause any physical damage to his brother. I don't doubt that Asher can defend himself, but I've witnessed Caleb pushing men up against walls with just one hand. "He's fine. You didn't hurt him."
"He called the police." He motions towards the two chairs that are sitting in front of my desk. "Can we sit?"
"Yes." I point towards the door. "I'll close my door. You sit."
I glance down the corridor in the direction Caleb took before I softly close my office door. I can tell that my words stung him. Years ago, I would have raced after him to explain things. Today, although a part of me wants to do that, I can't. Asher needs me and Caleb needs to have some time to absorb what I said.
"You're sure that you're okay?" I tap Asher on the shoulder before I take a seat in the chair next to him. "Do you want anything? I can get you some coffee or a bottle of water?"
"I'm good, Bell," he says my nickname with the same ease he always has. Asher and my father are the only two people who call me that. Caleb did at one point, but as we grew older, and he took on a more serious stance, he dropped it.
"I spoke to my lawyer yesterday," I pause to study his face. "I thought you may need a lawyer, so I went to see mine. She's not a criminal lawyer but she was able to find out that you weren't charged with anything."
His gaze meets mine for a brief second. "You've always been one of my best friends. You know that, right?"
I feel a sudden lump in my throat. "You're one of my best friends too."
"I remember when Tom overdosed." He exhales audibly. "I still remember everything about that day."
Until a few months ago, the mention of my former boyfriend's name would bring a flash of tears to my eyes. I loved Tom. He was brilliant, fun and caught within a world of deep depression. We had met in class during my senior year in college. He had a mess of blonde curls on his head and eyes that were a pale blue. He was introspective, romantic and wore eyeglasses that would always slip off the bridge of his nose.
"I do too." I rub at my chest trying to ease the growing tightness I feel.
"I think about that day whenever I feel the urge." He leans back in the chair. "I've been thinking about that day a lot lately."
Asher had been with me the day I found Tom passed out on the floor of the apartment we were sharing. We'd moved in together after I graduated and as Tom continued his studies towards his Master's in business, he found an ally in cocaine. Asher had warned me twice that he thought Tom was using, but it was easier to ignore the signs and bathe in the good moments. My relationship with Tom was filled with passion and when the dust had settled and he was released from the hospital, he made a choice. He chose the drugs and he's never looked back.
"I think about it sometimes too," I offer back. "I thought about it yesterday."
"I haven't touched anything since I left rehab." He crosses his legs, pulling at the material of his pant leg. "I wasn't on anything yesterday."
If he said those words to Caleb I know that they would be met with disbelief, but Asher wouldn't mask the truth from me. Not about this. He saw, firsthand, how devastated I was when I found out he had been using last year. My instinct then was to abandon him. I hadn't. I'd gone to visit him when he was in rehab and I cried when he told me that he'd let me down.
"I believe you," I say it with conviction. "Caleb said you were angry. He said you were lashing out."
He leans forward to rest his hands on his knees. "Caleb and I are a lot alike. He can't see it. He won't see it."
"You're not that alike," I say jokingly. "Caleb's changed so much. He's not the same person he used to be."
"None of us are." His fingers brush lightly against my knee. "Do you remember how shy you used to be? You'd hide behind the oak tree in front of your parents' townhouse when we called you over to play baseball. I don't think you said two words to me before you hit your tenth birthday."
I'd cowered behind my parents when I was a child. I was painfully unsure of myself. I had only one friend in school but when I'd come home, I'd often find the Foster boys sitting on their front stoop. Gabriel is seven years older than me and back when I was a child, he was the one who would bring me a package of gum from the store or make promises about how he'd run a huge company one day and I would be his second-in-charge. He would tell me that I was the smartest girl he knew even though I doubted the words.