CHAPTER 22
Asher
I tuck my pencil behind my ear and climb down the ladder off the roof just as Olivia backs out of her driveway.
There’s a part of me, a big part, that wants to follow her to work just to make sure she gets there safely.
Not because I think she’s weak—she’s resilient as fuck—but I have an innate need to be near her right now and it’s fucking crushing.
Every second I laid awake in bed last night thinking about her and my baby was a fight as I wrestled with my thoughts.
Men like me don’t get to be regular dads, playing catch with their kids in the front yard.
Men like me have been raised to train their sons to be ruthless.
They marry their daughters off to the heads of other families to secure business dealings.
Men like me cheat, steal, and lie their way through life.
They don’t love; they don’t feel. Because of that, all these foreign emotions are running through me.
I have to give Liv and our baby everything they deserve, but the idea of letting someone in makes me feel completely out of fucking control.
If I bring them closer, I might lose them.
“How’s it looking up there?” Wade asks when I come through the front door of one of the wedding cabins he’s working on.
The smell of pine hits me as I enter; the cleaners are doing their best to get the place dust-free and we’re pretty much complete after months of work.
Soon we’ll be starting on the outside, working on decking, landscaping, and driveways.
Wade, Walker, and I laid the hand-planed four-inch maple boards as flooring—with cabinets to match—and did the same in pine for the ceiling.
The kitchen is simple with quartz counters and stainless-steel appliances, and the front and bedroom windows have been designed to allow the natural light to stream in as bridal parties get ready and take wedding photos on their big day.
“It’s looking pretty close to a finished cabin,” I say, picking up my water. “The roofers did a great job where that flashing meets the trough.”
“Thanks for having a look for me,” Wade says, surveying the space and placing his hammer on top of the tool bag. “Fuck, I can’t believe we’re getting there. Just wish my dad were here to see it. He always wanted to work on a hospitality side to the ranch.”
“You should be proud.” I look out the front window to the open space and bubbling creek beyond. “This will be a pretty sought-after spot once it’s done.”
“You all good?” Wade asks, his dark brow furrowed as he examines me. I don’t know if it’s the fact that I’ve gotten to know him a little better over these last months, or because he has a small child of his own, but the need to talk to someone hits me like a ton of bricks.
“Fuck, not really,” I say, taking a seat on an empty pallet in the center of the room.
Wade’s eyebrows shoot up. “I didn’t expect you to answer honestly.”
“Yup. Trying something new.”
“Any particular reason?”
I breathe out a deep sigh. “Olivia is pregnant. And the baby is mine.”
Wade’s mouth falls open in shock and we both sit with the statement between us for a beat.
“Holy fuck.” He flips a pallet over just across from me and takes a seat. “Holy … fuck.”
“Right?”
“Is this serious?”
“What’s good, boys?” Nash pushes the door open just as I’m about to answer Wade’s question. He’s carrying a box of outlet covers. “Had to drive to Fallon Ridge for these. They don’t stock black ones at the local hardware store.”
Nash looks between Wade and me and his expression clouds over. “What’s wrong?”
“We were just having a little talk,” I offer. Wade stays quiet, knowing this is my story to share.
“Talk?” Nash’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“Yeah …” I begin. “Hell, I’m going to need all the help I can get for this one.”
Nash folds his arms over his chest, unsure what to expect.
“Olivia is pregnant.”
It takes Nash all of five seconds to make the connection between this statement and why it’s significant to me.
“Holy fuck. ” He bites out the same response as Wade. “When did you two …? Wait … is this serious ?”
I shake my head, scrubbing my beard with my hand and looking down at the scuff of my work boots. “I don’t know what it is. My head is fucked.”
Talking to other people about my personal shit doesn’t come easily. But, for this, I need some advice.
“I take it, seeing as you’re telling us now, that she’s decided to keep the baby?” Wade asks now as Nash leans back onto the kitchen counter.
I nod. “And I’m all in. But, fuck, I’m so out of my element here. I want to do the right thing by her. I just don’t have a clue what that is.”
Nash pulls some covers out of the bag and moves around the room, placing them at each outlet. “I’m eight months in and I still don’t know if I’ve done enough,” he admits.
“And I’ve been a dad for a year almost and I don’t know either,” Wade adds.
“ Christ, ” I mutter under my breath. “I’m fucking doomed then.”
“Do you have feelings for her? It always kind of seemed like you had a thing for her.” Nash side-eyes me.
I revel in a moment of silence before answering.
“There was a connection when I first met her. A draw. Like she’s the goddamn sun and I can’t help but want to be near her.” I struggle to get my thoughts out. “I’ve always felt, I dunno, protective of her. And maybe that’s not normal. But the way she fucking injures herself isn’t normal either.”
Nash chuckles. “I followed CeCe to Seattle once because I was worried about her safety. So no judgment here.”
He raises his hands in surrender and I quirk an eyebrow, though he offers nothing more as I stand. So does Wade.
“After the fire, we went our separate ways. But not because I didn’t want to know her better. I’m just not the man she’s looking for. She’s the town sweetheart, and I am … well, not that. Plus, I’ve never seen myself as the type to settle down.”
“Neither did I,” Nash says, “not until CeCe. With her it was different.”
His words resonate with me. Because in a way, that’s how I’ve always felt around Olivia.
“You must have some feelings for her?” Nash assesses.
I start cleaning up because I can’t sit still.
“How can you tell?” I grunt out as I load my drills into their cases.
“You wouldn’t be talking to us if you didn’t,” Wade pipes up.
I stop cleaning for a moment. “I have this nagging need to take care of her, to make sure she’s settled and happy. And, fuck, when I see her …”
Nash chuckles, moving closer to pat me on the shoulder. “That, my friend, is feelings.”
“Feelings or not, it’s best for her if we just stay friends.”
Nash doesn’t question my motives, just eyes me slowly. “A man’s past doesn’t define him, Asher.”
I nod curtly. “And I won’t let it hurt her either.”
“When is she due?” Wade cuts in. It’s the thing I like most about these guys. They never pry about my past.
“February.”
Quick calculations line his face. “Well, that tells me you’ve got about seven months, give or take, to figure all this out.”
I carry my drills and tool pouch to the door.
“In the meantime, just let yourself get to know her,” Nash offers with a shrug. “In case you haven’t noticed this about yourself, you aren’t exactly the easiest guy to get close to.”
I don’t answer. And for good reason. “We know you keep to yourself,” he continues. “And you keep your past buried under that prickly exterior. But this situation? It’s something entirely different, so maybe you need to do something different.”
I turn to face him.
“Let your guard down a little. It’s not easy, but take it from me: Demons from the past will haunt you if you let them.
” Nash grabs a water from the fridge. “They’ll stop you from forming relationships, from living.
And then the demons win.” He cracks the lid on his bottle as his words sink in.
Something tells me he is speaking from experience.
“Let my guard down …” I repeat, registering his advice.
“Yeah. Just take as much off her plate as you can and the rest will work itself out,” Wade adds. “We’re all here for you both.”
I nod; no one has ever “been there” for me, and the offer of help feels foreign.
“Thanks.” I look between them. “Before I moved to Laurel Creek, I never had any friends who didn’t want something from me.”
“Aww shucks, bring it in,” Nash says exaggeratedly with a deep laugh. He pulls me in for a hug, clapping me on the back, and the contact causes me to stiffen. I rarely have people try to hug me.
“Congrats, man! You’re gonna be a father!”
Hearing him say it out loud makes it that much more fucking real. Holy fuck.