He'd gone beyond his player ways for her.
She'd grown beyond her traumatic past for him.
Together, their love was beyond.
Until one fatal accident.
__________
When she loses the love of her life in a car crash, Althea has nothing left in California...
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*ALTHEA'S POV*
October 28, 2023.
"Good morning, Peachy." Asher welcomed me on my first step through the door, his grin seeming to replace the sunrise, half hidden into the horizon but still bright enough to make you blink, as I didn't remember glimpsing it on my way here.
Was it because of the morning fog or the haze of my thoughts, though?
Probably the latter as I hadn't caught the bird chirping either, only Asher's smoky voice being able to pierce through my cloudy mind.
"So what PT exercise are we starting with today?" He nodded at the seat across from him and the table, where his progress tracking sheets were set with a pen and all the necessary accessories.
"You're already... ready?"
How? It was the question probably written all over my ringed eyes as I sat down. How could the muffins on the plate in front of me look so fresh? How could he look so fresh, from his sharply shaven jaw to his styled hair, and even the twinkle in his clear eyes?
Whereas I felt in the same cloud of smoke as I'd been last night when I'd crashed out on my bed, although he'd smoked much more than I had of whatever strong weed Caleb had given him.
"Technically we're 45 minutes late, but—"
"What? Oh no, I'm sorry." My eyes opened wide as I only now checked my watch. "When is your electrodes session?"
"In 15 minutes. We still have some time."
I wasn't sure, but since for once he was motivated, I wouldn't contradict him, my fingers quickly reaching for the progress sheets.
"Okay, let's not waste more time then. Today, we're starting with the... hand exercises?"
Strange, I could have sworn it was the facial PT we'd planned yesterday, though my frown at the paper didn't change the words written there, and I didn't dare peer back through the fresh memories.
Asher had already exercised his mouth enough anyway, his smile appearing too perfectly crooked.
"It'll need some massaging 'cause it's really tense." He placed his left fist on the table between us, and indeed, 'tense' was a euphemism as my shaky fingers traced the protruding veins until his white knuckles, his muscles twitching under my touch.
