33. Isla & Asher
Chapter 33
Isla & Asher
Isla
I ’m done letting Kyle or my past define who I am.
I straighten my shoulders. The old Isla would have nodded along, apologized for existing, and then gone home to stress-clean the whole day while overthinking every word.
But that Isla is officially retired. Effective immediately.
I might not be enough for some people, but that’s not stopping me from living the life I want or loving the way I was always meant to.
Asher’s body is still rigid behind me. He protects me all the time. But today, I will be my own shield.
I take a deep breath. The gym falls silent, everyone watching.
“Thank you, Kyle,” I say, my voice steadier than I expected.
His smug expression falters. Clearly not the response he anticipated.
“You’ve taught me a lot—mainly about what I don’t want to be.” I glance at Claire, who shifts uncomfortably beside him. “You taught me how easy it is to lose yourself trying to please someone who was never going to be satisfied.”
Kyle’s face darkens. “You don’t know what you’re—”
“I’m not finished.” My index finger rises, pointing directly at Kyle’s chest, not touching him, but close enough that he actually leans back. For once, I’m not the one shrinking away, making myself smaller to accommodate someone else’s ego. “Because I let you define me, I forgot how to love myself. I was so desperate for someone else to fill that space, I let others take the lead.”
Asher’s warmth radiates behind me. My chin tilts up. For once, I’m not borrowing someone else’s courage. And knowing he’s there makes it easier to own it.
“Maybe I’ll never be enough for you. Maybe I’ll never be enough for some people. But that won’t stop me. Not from doing what I love. Not from living the life I want. Not from loving the people who matter. I decide who I am.”
The gym is so quiet I can hear the hum of the air conditioning. Kyle’s face has gone from smug to stunned to furious.
“I know why you’re trying to tear my business down. Why you want to make me doubt myself.” I take a step back, finding Asher’s hand. His fingers intertwine with mine immediately, warm and steady against my palm. “But I’m not announcing it to everyone here because I refuse to be like you. Still, I suggest you stop your little sabotage game before it backfires.”
Asher turns to me, his eyes shining with something that makes my heart skip. Something that’s warmer, deeper.
Pride.
He leans forward and kisses my forehead, so gently, right in front of everyone. His lips linger for just a moment, warm against my skin, and I swear the time stops.
“That’s my girl.”
Heat floods my cheeks as I hear Mrs. Patterson’s delighted gasp from somewhere to my left. Harold from the coffee shop is elbowing Betty so hard she nearly topples over, both of them wearing identical “I-told-you-so” grins.
My brother still has his arm around Elaine’s waist, like he’s afraid she might launch herself at Kyle any minute. But surprisingly, Elaine seems almost comfortable there, grinning like she’s a proud parent watching her kid win the spelling bee. Conner catches my eye and gives me a subtle nod.
Claire tugs at Kyle’s sleeve, but he shakes her off. “You’re just—”
“Woof!”
Asher’s mom bustles through the door, holding a squirming Mochi in her arms. The puppy’s ears perk up as he spots me, then swivels his head toward Kyle. His little body goes rigid.
“I found this little troublemaker wanting to join the party here,” Margaret announces, oblivious to the tension. “I thought he might—”
Mochi erupts into a storm of high-pitched barking, lunging forward in Margaret’s arms. His tiny body vibrates with each yap, aimed directly at Kyle.
“What the—” Kyle steps back, his face twisted in disgust.
“Mochi!” I gasp, half-mortified, half-trying not to laugh. Our rescue puppy might be small enough to fit in a purse, but apparently, he’s got the protective instincts of a Rottweiler. And the uncanny ability to detect jerks from twenty paces.
Margaret struggles to contain our furry little defender. “My goodness, he’s never done this before!”
“Dogs can sense character,” Betty calls out, earning a ripple of chuckles.
Mochi’s barking intensifies, his little paws paddling the air as he strains toward Kyle. Margaret’s grip slips, and in a blur of brown fur, Mochi leaps free. He lands on the floor with surprising grace before charging straight at Kyle and Claire.
I should feel sorry that my dog is causing a scene in the middle of Asher’s professional event, but honestly? There’s something deeply satisfying about watching my ex get barked at by a puppy who barely weighs ten pounds. I bite my lip to keep from smiling as Mochi continues his tiny, righteous tirade.
“Control that mutt!” Kyle demands, backing away. But Mochi has already set his sights on Claire, who’s tottering backward on her stilettos like she’s playing an impromptu game of Twister.
“Oh my goodness, it’s going to bite me!” Claire wails, clutching her designer purse to her chest like it’s a shield.
Margaret darts between guests, arms outstretched like she’s playing some geriatric version of tag. “I’m so sorry! He’s normally such a good boy!” Her silver curls bounce with each lunge as Mochi expertly dodges her grasp.
Betty, meanwhile, has abandoned all pretense of helping and is openly cackling from beside the punch bowl. “Run for your life, honey!” she calls to Claire, raising her glass in a mock toast.
The portrait stand wobbles dangerously as Harold tries to steady it with one hand while filming the chaos on his phone with the other. “This is going straight to the town newsletter!” he announces gleefully.
Mochi, drunk on freedom and justice, zigzags between startled guests who’ve formed an impromptu circle around the spectacle. Someone knocks into the refreshment table, sending napkins fluttering through the air like confetti.
Asher’s eyes crinkle at the corners, the telltale sign of his barely contained amusement. His lips press together in that way they always do when he’s trying not to laugh. In a split-second decision, I grab his arm and tug him toward the stairwell.
“Come with me.”
Asher
I’m barely through the office door when it slams shut behind me. Isla’s hand pushes it closed with such force that the blinds rattle against the glass.
“Isla—”
But before I can say another word, her hands grab my face, pulling me down to her, and she crashes her lips into mine.
I freeze. Every thought slams to a halt.
Yesterday, she ran from me, and now she’s kissing me like her life depends on it.
But Isla doesn’t stop. If anything, my hesitation makes her more determined. Her fingers slide into my hair, gripping tight as she presses closer, her kiss deepening with an urgency that knocks the air from my lungs.
Something inside me snaps. My hands find her waist, fingers digging into the soft fabric of her blouse. I spin us around, backing her against the wall with more force than I intended. Her gasp disappears into my mouth as I lift her up, my grip tightening on her hips, pinning her between my body and the wall.
Her legs wrap around my waist instantly, her arms circling my neck, like we’ve done this a thousand times before. Like our bodies have always known what our hearts couldn’t admit.
I taste mint on her tongue, feel the rapid flutter of her pulse. Everything about this moment feels both brand new and achingly familiar. It’s the final piece of a puzzle I’ve been trying to complete my entire life.
My lips break from hers only to trace a path along her jaw, down the column of her throat. She tilts her head back, her breath ragged in my ear. The sound of it—knowing I’m affecting her this way—nearly brings me to my knees.
When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, I keep her pinned against the wall, unwilling to let even an inch of space between us. Her forehead rests against mine, our noses brushing.
Isla pulls back slightly, her breath mingling with mine as she searches my eyes.
“I have to say this before I lose my nerve.” She still sounds a bit breathless, her chest rising and falling against mine. I want to memorize this moment. The way her eyes are wide and bright, how her lips are slightly swollen from my kiss.
I’ve imagined this so many times, but nothing compares to the real thing. To hold her like this, finally.
I nod, unable to form words. My thumb brushes her back, encouraging her.
“Sorry to run away like that yesterday.” Her fingers tighten around my neck. “Or correctly, running away all the time. I thought I could bury my feelings for my whole life, and it would be enough—safe—to just be friends. As long as I didn’t lose you.” She pauses, staring into my eyes with an intensity that steals my breath. “But I was wrong. I already fell. I fell so hard that not having you at all . . . is worse than losing you.”
The words I’ve waited years to hear hang between us. My heart hammers so hard I’m sure she can feel it through my chest. For a moment, I can’t speak. Can’t even breathe. This woman who’s been the center of my universe since we were kids is finally saying what I’ve dreamed of hearing.
My Peachie. My Isla.
“My dad left my mom because he didn’t think he deserved Mom’s love. He ran because he was scared. But now, he regrets never letting himself love her with his whole heart.” She swallows hard. “And I realized I’ve been doing the exact same thing with you.”
I shake my head, wanting to interrupt, to tell her she’s always been more than enough, but she presses a finger to my lips.
“Let me finish, or I’ll never get through this.”
I kiss her fingertip, and she smiles through her tears.
“But I’m done being scared. Done running from my heart.” She meets my eyes. “Thank you for waiting for me. For choosing me, even though I’ve pushed you away so many times. For still looking at me like I’m someone special after seeing me mascara-streaked ugly crying, or that time I threw up all over you when Mike dumped me by text. Thank you for never making me feel silly for my romance novels. For listening to me ramble about matchmaking like it’s the key to world peace. For cooking my favorite pasta while eating every failed muffin like it’s a five-star dessert.”
I can’t help but smile as she lists all these little things that make her perfectly Isla, the woman I’ve loved for as long as I can remember.
She takes my hands in hers, her eyes never leaving mine. “Thank you for not giving up on us, Asher. I love—”
I press my finger gently to her lips, stopping her words. Her eyes widen, questioning.
“Let me say it first,” I whisper. “I’ve been waiting fifteen years to tell you.”
I lower my hand, tracing the curve of her jaw.
“It’s my privilege to be the one by your side when you’re mascara-streaked. To cook your favorite pasta and pretend your muffins are five-star, because I love being the reason you smile like that. It’s my favorite thing to be the one who watches your nose scrunch in concentration when you read those romance novels, and knows you secretly love it when I demonstrate them for you.”
I brush a strand of hair from her face and kiss her cheeks. “Do you know how many people get to see all those different sides of you? The matchmaker, the dreamer, the woman who cries at dog food commercials but pretends she doesn’t? That’s been my favorite secret to keep all these years—knowing the real you when everyone else only gets pieces. Not because you’re perfect, but because you’re perfectly you. I love you .”
She laughs softly, tears welling in her eyes. I rest my forehead against hers, our noses touching.
“I was afraid for a long time, too, afraid of messing up, afraid of losing you. But holding you in my arms feels like having all the courage in the world. Like everything I’ve ever been afraid of doesn’t stand a chance against this—against us. You make me brave, Peachie. Loving you is worth every risk I was too scared to take before.”
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. “I brought our friendship pact,” she said, unfolding it carefully. “I think it’s time we destroy it. What do you think?”
“Please.” I say, smiling as I take the paper from her hands. “I already burned my copy.”
I put her onto the edge of the desk, like our first kiss yesterday. My body leans into hers as I cradle her face between my hands. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer.
“Let’s continue what we started yesterday.”
“I love you,” she whispers. “I love you, Collybear.”
And just like that, everything clicks into place. The world rights itself on its axis. I’m home.
She pulls me in, fingers threading through my hair, and our mouths crash together again. We take our time, pouring years—what feels like a lifetime of longing—into every touch. She sighs against my lips, and I feel the curve of her smile. This kiss is different from our first. There’s no uncertainty, no holding back. Just us, finally taking what we’ve both been too scared to reach for.
“I told you so!”
The muffled voice freezes us both. Isla’s eyes fly open, wide with alarm.
“Did you hear that?” she whispers, her breath warm against my lips.
I nod, already turning toward the door, keeping one arm protectively around Isla’s waist. There’s shuffling on the other side, followed by urgent whispers and what sounds suspiciously like giggling.
“Someone’s out there,” I mutter, narrowing my eyes at the door.
Isla’s face flushes a deep pink. “Please tell me it’s not who I think it is.”
Only one way to find out. I stride to the door, Isla still tucked against my side, and yank it open in one swift motion.
The tableau that greets us would be comical if it wasn’t so mortifying. Eight faces stare back at us with expressions ranging from sheepish to downright gleeful.
My mom and Isla’s mom are front and center, not even attempting to hide their matching grins. Behind them stand Victor and my dad, Elaine, Roxanne, Conner, and Xander, each caught in a different version of pretending they weren’t eavesdropping. At their feet, Mochi sits wagging his tail, the only one honest about his intentions.
“We were just . . .” Elaine starts, looking around for support.
“Passing by,” Roxanne finishes lamely.
“All eight of you? At once?” I raise an eyebrow.
My mom clasps her hands together like she’s just witnessed a miracle. “We have waited for this for too long!”
“Far too long,” Isla’s mom agrees, nodding vigorously.
Isla makes a small sound against my chest, where she’s buried her face. I can’t tell if she’s laughing or dying of embarrassment. Probably both.
“About time, you two!” Elaine steps forward, completely unrepentant. “I think I just won twenty bucks.” She holds out her hand to Xander, who reluctantly pulls out his wallet.
“Twenty?” Conner scoffs. “The pot’s up to a hundred and fifty by now. Half the town’s in on it.”
I groan, running my free hand through my hair. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Nope.” Xander counts out bills into Elaine’s palm. “Betty’s been collecting since high school. The odds shifted dramatically after the flambé incident.”
Isla peeks out from my chest, her face still flushed. “You’ve all been betting on us?”
Mochi barks once, tail wagging frantically, clearly sensing the joy in the air. He jumps up, paws on Isla’s legs, demanding attention.
“Even Mochi was in on it,” I mutter, reaching down to scratch behind his ears.
“He was the most invested,” Dad says.
“Dad!”
Isla’s mom’s eyes are suspiciously misty. “We’re just happy for you both. It’s been a long time coming.”
“Too long,” Isla agrees softly, looking up at me with a warmth in her hazel eyes that spreads through me like sunlight hitting frozen ground, that I forget to be annoyed at our audience.
“Well,” I say, clearing my throat and addressing the crowd, “now that you’ve all confirmed what you clearly already knew, maybe we could have a little privacy?”
“Oh, of course,” Elaine says with a wink. “We’ll just leave you two alone.”
None of them move an inch.
Isla laughs again, shaking her head. “Subtlety isn’t really Frosthaven’s strong suit, is it?”
“Never has been,” I agree, pulling her closer and dropping a kiss on her forehead, not caring who sees.
For twenty years, she’s been my best friend, my Peachie, my favorite person. And now, she’s mine. I’m hers.
Just like it was always meant to be.