14. Asher
Chapter 14
Asher
“S o, what’s your plan here?” I settle back in my chair, studying my two oldest friends.
The morning light spills through the tall windows of Brewed Awakening, catching on Xander’s Rolex Day Date. He taps the rim of the coffee cup, suit barely creasing.
Conner leans back, crossing his arms behind his head like he owns the place instead of sitting in a small-town café. “Local business opportunities.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Since when are you into small-town anything? I remember you just bought out a tech company in New York. And didn’t you take a major stake in that luxury athleisure line last year?”
He glances out the window for a second, then hooks it back into a crooked grin. “Figured Frosthaven could use some excitement. It’s got potential. Just needs someone to shake things up a little.”
His confidence isn’t surprising. After his hockey career ended early due to injury, he pivoted to business with Xander’s help, building an impressive portfolio of companies in just a few years. The former athlete turned entrepreneur had always landed on his feet.
“Your version of excitement once flooded the high school gym,” I remind him, fighting back a grin at the memory.
“That was a mechanical malfunction!” Conner straightens in his chair, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he tries to maintain an innocent expression. “Besides,” he smirks, looking between me and Xander, “pretty sure you two were right there with me, planning the whole thing.”
“The sprinklers were set to spell out your name, Con.”
“A very sophisticated mechanical malfunction.” He turns to Xander. “Back me up here, X.”
Xander doesn’t look up from his perfectly pressed napkin. “I seem to recall spending three hours helping you program that malfunction while Asher played lookout.”
“Traitor,” Conner mutters, flicking a sugar packet at Xander.
“Some of us grew up,” Xander says, brushing off his sleeve.
“And some of us grew boring. Seriously, X, did your personality get lost in one of your offshore accounts?”
I hide my grin behind my coffee cup. We’re still bickering like we’re ten, just like when we used to cram into my dad’s garage, plotting our next dumb idea.
“What about you?” I turn to Xander, watching him adjust his cufflinks. Time’s turned the kid who used to shoot hoops in my driveway into someone from the Financial Times. “Didn’t expect to see you back here.”
Unlike Conner, who at least dragged his retired-hockey-star self home for holidays and the occasional town festival, Xander had vanished into boardrooms and billion-dollar deals. Hadn’t even shown up when he made partner at Morgan & Stanley, though his face was plastered across every business magazine in the country.
“Thinking of selling the old house,” Xander says, knocking back his espresso like it’s whiskey at a business deal gone south.
Conner’s head snaps up, and we share the kind of look that comes from twenty years of knowing when something’s about to hit the fan. That house has been a ghost in our rearview since he left town.
“Now? What changed?”
Xander leans back, his shoulders rigid against the chair. His jaw clenches, and that old scar by his collar stands out. “Time to clean up some messes.”
“Some messes?” Conner plants his hands on the table, dropping the class clown act. The same intensity that used to make opposing teams back off on the ice hardens his features. “Or some people?”
“Don’t start, Con,” I warn, recognizing the dangerous territory we’re heading into.
Conner holds up his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. Speaking of dealing with things . . .” His expression shifts to something that usually means trouble. “Actually, I’ve got some news of my own.”
I eye him suspiciously. “Why do I already feel like I need a fire extinguisher?”
“Your lack of faith wounds me, brother.” Conner presses his hand to his chest in mock hurt. “Especially since I’m being the responsible adult.”
“You?” Xander actually looks up from the empty espresso cup. “Your company’s doing fine without adding more chaos to your portfolio.”
“Please,” Conner says with a confident smirk. “Some of us can handle more than one venture at a time.”
“And what kind of venture are we talking about?” I ask.
His grin widens. “Elaine’s dad asked me to consider buying Fresh n’ Fluffy.”
I nearly choke on my coffee. “The bakery? You’re kidding.”
“The very one.” His grin turns positively devilish. “And he hasn’t told his daughter yet.”
“Only you would consider buying a business specifically to torment someone.” Xander gives Conner a cold assessment.
“It’s not torment. There are things that need to be handled.”
“It’s a death wish,” I translate. “Elaine will murder you in your sleep and make it look like a baking accident.”
The door jingles as Isla walks in, flanked by Roxanne. Their laughter fills the café, and the place feels ten times brighter. I’m drawn to her warmth like a moth to a flame.
I drag my attention back to my mug. The last thing I need is Conner catching me staring at his sister like some lovesick idiot.
“Well, if it isn’t my dear little sister,” Conner calls out, waving at Isla.
She spots us and waves back. Her smile lights up her whole face, but she purposely looks everywhere but at me. Something in my chest tightens.
Ever since that day at the gym, things have been different. We barely eat lunch or dinner together, and she’s suddenly into making her own chamomile lavender tea instead of letting me bring it. The late-night texts come less often now. No gummy bear debates, no overthinking her pothos plant’s mood. Just polite check-ins. Friendly. Normal.
Too normal.
I reach for my phone, desperate for a distraction, but Conner’s already watching me with one eyebrow raised and a smirk so evil it should be outlawed.
The atmosphere shifts when Roxanne spots Xander. The whole café seems to hold its breath. Xander goes completely still, his fingers tightening imperceptibly around his coffee cup.
“Roxanne,” Xander said.
Roxanne’s smile turns glacial, her eyes burning. “Didn’t realize Frosthaven is accepting corporate jerks now.”
“Still very charming.” Xander’s face remains impassive, but something dark flashes in his eyes.
The café might as well be empty for how intensely they’re focused on each other.
“I see success still costs you everything, Huntley.” Roxanne lifts her chin.
“Only the things I choose to lose.”
Isla catches Roxanne’s arm before she can respond, steering her toward a table across the café. The tension follows them like a storm cloud. Xander doesn’t move a muscle, and his gaze is glued to Roxanne’s back.
Isla and Roxanne settle at a table diagonally from us, perfectly in my line of sight. Every time Isla leans forward to pat Roxanne’s hand, a strand of her hair catches the morning light, and I completely lose track of whatever Conner’s saying about his business plan.
The café door chimes, and in walks Devyn Marshall—Frosthaven’s resident firefighter and the guy who’s been unsuccessfully chasing Isla since high school. He makes a beeline for her table, not even bothering with the coffee line.
“Well, if it isn’t Frosthaven’s very own Cupid,” Devyn says, his voice carrying across the café. “How’s my favorite matchmaker doing today?”
Isla looks up, surprise flickering across her face. “Dev! I didn’t know you were back in town. Where’d you go? I haven’t seen you around in a few weeks.”
Every muscle in my body tenses as Devyn invades her space. He’s working that hero smile of his, the one that’s probably rescued more hearts than people.
“Just got back yesterday,” Devyn claims the chair next to Isla like he owns it. “Was doing wildfire training upstate for a couple of weeks. Couldn’t stay away from Frosthaven’s charms for too long. Speaking of which, how about we catch up over dinner sometime?”
The café’s too noisy to hear more, but I don’t need words to see how Devyn’s practically breathing her air, one arm casually draped over her chair. My coffee turns bitter in my mouth as he leans in to whisper something. My fingers clamp around my mug hard enough to turn my knuckles white.
“Bro,” Conner’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “You planning someone’s murder over there?”
“I’m fine.” I force my eyes back to our table. “Just thinking about work.”
“Work?” Xander’s eyebrow arches. “That’s why you’re about to break that mug?”
“Look who’s talking,” I shoot back, nodding at his death grip on his own cup.
Xander eases his grip on the cup, knuckles slowly losing their edge.
“You remember Devyn?” I ask.
Conner and Xander exchange a look. Xander’s mouth pulls just enough to say he’s amused.
“Devyn?” Conner stretches his arms behind his head. “I remember Devyn used to follow Isla around in high school.”
“Still does, apparently.”
“And that bothers you because . . .?”
“It doesn’t bother me. Guy’s just laying it on thick.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there.”
“No story. He just moved back to town a year ago. Joined the fire department. And now he’s everywhere, helping old ladies cross streets, rescuing cats from trees—”
“And . . .?” Conner cuts in, grinning.
“I’m just being protective. That’s all.” I glance at Devyn. “You know how Devyn can be.”
Xander runs a thumb along the edge of his jaw. “Her brother’s right here, and he’s not murderous. You are .”
I grumble. “Nobody’s that charming without an agenda.”
Xander turns to Conner, acting like I’m not even there. “Looks like someone’s allergic to competition.”
I decide to sign them up for Couples Zumba with Betty.
Another burst of laughter came from Isla’s table. Devyn’s practically glowing with pride, like making her laugh is some kind of achievement. Amateur. Try making her laugh so hard that she snorts hot chocolate through her nose during movie night. That’s talent.
“Just admit it,” Xander cuts in, “you’re jealous.”
Telling Conner feels like signing my own death warrant. This is the guy who’s watched me be his sister’s best friend for years. The same guy who once told me he’d break a guy’s nose just for looking at Isla wrong. And now I’ve got to tell him I want to be more than her friend?
“I’m not-” I start to protest, but my words die in my throat as Devyn leans even closer to Isla, his intention clear. If he tries to kiss her, I might actually commit a crime. You know, for protective reasons.
“Not jealous?” Conner’s grin turns positively wicked. “That’s good. Because she told me she has a date.”
I inhale my coffee instead of swallowing it, and I nearly crack the mug slamming it down. Devyn starts watching us like he’s about to sprint over and save the day.
“With who?”
“Well,” Conner stretches back in his chair, pure smugness radiating off him, “since you’re not interested, I probably shouldn’t say. But I did tell her it was about time she started dating again. Even suggested she try that new dating app everyone’s talking about.”
“You what?”
“Yeah, I told her she should put herself out there more. Stop waiting around, you know?” Conner’s eyes gleam. “Actually, I know this guy from my old team who’d be perfect for her-”
“No.”
“No? Why not? You’re just being protective, right? Like a friend ?“ He practically spits the last word.
My hands are clenched into fists under the table. Xander’s gaze cuts to me. Conner just stares me down, waiting.
“Because I have been falling for your sister.”
The world goes dead quiet.
“Finally.”
Conner exhales, running a hand over his face. “Took you long enough.”
“What?” I grumble.
“To finally admit it to me .“ Conner taps his knuckles against the table. “Now, what are you actually doing about it?”
“I’m working on it.”
“Just tell her already,” Xander says, checking his Rolex as the waitress tops off his espresso. “It’s not exactly closing a billion-dollar deal.”
“When’s the last time you put any effort into a woman?“ Conner rolls his eyes.
“I don’t.” His mouth curves slightly. “They put in the effort.”
“We’ll wait for that day you actually have to. I’m framing it.” Conner claps Xander on the shoulder.
Isla’s voice drifts across the café again. She’s doing that thing where she talks with her hands, nearly knocking over her coffee cup. I want to grab those small hands, run my fingers through her hair, kiss her forehead, her cheeks, and finally claim those lips.
A sharp kick to my shin. Conner’s glare could make a bouncer back down. I drop my eyes to my coffee, hoping he doesn’t just read my mind about kissing his sister.
“Listen, man,” Conner says, leaning forward, voice dropping. “You were there when I couldn’t be. When I was chasing pucks across the country, you were the one making sure she got home safe, checking her car’s oil, being the shoulder she cried on.” He runs a hand through his hair. “You probably know her better than I do at this point.”
He takes a long pull of his coffee, something heavy in his eyes. “Look, is it weird? Yeah. You’re my best friend. She’s my sister. I wanted to deck you when I figured out those protective looks weren’t so friendly after all. And trust me, I figured that out, way before I left for hockey.”
A wry smile tugs at his mouth. “But you’re not just any guy, Ash. You’re family. Have been since you punched Tommy Rogers for making Isla cry in fourth grade.”
His jaw tightens. “I’d break any guy’s face for looking at her wrong. And watching those jerks hurt her while I was away—” He shakes his head. “That killed me, man. Still does.”
His expression softens slightly, though his voice stays gruff. “But you’re the only one I’ve ever seen put her first. Every single time. No questions asked.”
My throat is tight. Hearing this from Conner, Isla’s brother and my friend since we were kids, breaks through years of iron control. Every feeling I’ve locked down surges up like a knockout blow.
“Thank you, Con.”
Xander takes a slow sip of his espresso. “Shame I missed the whole pining show.”
I grunt. “You’re a real support system.”
“Con risks everything and you risk nothing.” Xander leans back in his chair, thumb tapping once against the side of his cup. “Try the middle. Some risks are worth it.”
Xander doesn’t hand out opinions often. When he does, you pay attention.
“Appreciate it. X.” I nod at him.
“Does Isla ever talk about our dad to you?” Conner asks.
“Not much,” I say. “Just that he left after the divorce and never reached out again.”
Conner scrubs a hand over his jaw. “You know she still has that old teddy bear? Dad gave it to her. She used to sleep with it every night, thinking if she held on tight enough, he’d come back.”
He lets out a harsh breath. “Eventually, she figured out he wasn’t. But she never got rid of it. We don’t talk about him much, either of us . . . but some things stick, even when you wish they didn’t. So if she gets stubborn, just . . . hang in there with her a little longer, yeah? If anyone can get through to her, it’s you, Asher.”
“She asked you about Asher’s gym expansion plans, didn’t she?” Xander looks at Conner.
I straighten in my chair. “She has?”
Conner nods, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Yep. Wanted to know all about the logistics, financing, that kind of stuff. She even asked me to fund the new equipment you’d need. You should’ve seen her. She was taking notes and everything.”
Isla’s been thinking about my plans? Thinking about me?
I can picture the way Isla’s brow furrowed in concentration, scribbling away in that leather-bound notebook she carries everywhere. The image sends a warmth spreading through my chest.
“However,” Conner shakes his head, “this whole thing with you letting Isla match you with other people is a mess.”
“She thinks I need help finding someone, and it’s a win-win solution for her business.”
“And you’re going along with it?” Conner turns to Xander. “X, think you can dig into Kyle? See what he’s really about?”
Xander gives a short nod.
“Elaine and Roxanne think it might work,” I say, the corner of my mouth hitching up. “You know, make her jealous, open her eyes.”
Conner chokes on his coffee, and Xander’s entire body goes rigid, his stare locked across the café to where Roxanne is sitting with Isla.
I look between them, suddenly feeling like I’ve stepped into a minefield. These two are even worse at handling their feelings than I am.
“About that date you mentioned earlier.” I clear my throat. “Who’s the guy?”
“Ah.” Conner’s expression sours. “It’s one of Diane’s setups. Isla agreed to it for ‘research purposes’.” He makes air quotes with his fingers, looking disgusted. “You know how she gets when she thinks she has to do better.”
“Con, I need your help.” I lean forward, lowering my voice.
“Yeah?”
“About Isla’s date . . .” A slow grin spreads across my face. “I’ve got a few ideas about making sure it’s memorable .”