Chapter 6
Aeron
It had been forever since I'd watched a sunrise without adjusting the aperture. From the terrace, I watched sunlight filter through the trees in Mom’s garden, casting streaks of gold and amber across the sky, almost enough to make me forget I was jet-lagged and sleep-deprived.
A knock at my door broke the moment. Mom stood in the doorway, coffee mug in hand.
“I could’ve come down.” I took the cup and sipped slowly. It tasted exactly like home, even after a year away. Her coffee was still my favorite.
“I hardly ever get to spoil my son. Let me have this moment. Tomorrow you'll disappear again. Honestly, even my Amazon packages stick around on the porch longer than you do.” Her voice had that perfect mix of warmth and guilt-trip, the kind only my mom could pull off.
“Good to know your guilt-tripping skills are still in peak condition, Mabel Ashbourne,” I remarked dryly.
“Don’t mock me.” She shot me a glare, then narrowed her eyes, giving me a thorough inspection. “What’s with this lumberjack look?
“That bad?” Between wrapping up the Savannah Kings documentary and rushing edits just so I could make it home today, I hadn’t made grooming my top priority. Or even added it to the list at all.
“One more inch and birds will start nesting there.”
“Your garden birds could use an upgrade.”
She laughed, her expression softening warmly. “Well, lumberjack or not, I’m glad you’re home, even if it’s just for one day. I missed you.”
I stood in an awkward silence. If I admitted I’d missed her too, it would open the floodgates, and once Mom started, there was no stopping her. Tears were her first language, words came second.
“Aeron.” Her voice grew softer, heavier, slipping into a tone I recognized immediately.
“Mom,” I started, hoping to stop her before she got too far. “We’re not going there.”
But she pressed on anyway, worry deepening in her eyes. “It's been six years. You have to stop blaming yourself for what happened to your dad. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m trying.” Saying it was easy, but letting go, actually doing it, was harder. Every night when I closed my eyes, the accident replayed, taunting me with a brutal truth: it should’ve been me, not him.
“You said the exact same thing last year. And the year before,” she reminded me, then let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I’ll let it go. I'm not spending our only day together lecturing you.”
“You might want to reconsider that lecture.” I said, watching her closely as curiosity sparked in her eyes. “I’m staying.” I paused again, intentionally.
“Permanently, Mom. No more disappearing after a day.”
Her eyes widened in genuine surprise. “You’re serious?”
“When have you ever known me to joke?”
“You’re right.” She nodded. “My son wouldn’t recognize a joke if it danced naked right in front of him. But…but…why now?” she asked cautiously, as if afraid I'd change my mind. I couldn’t blame her, after years of leaving just as suddenly as I'd arrived, trust wasn't exactly something I'd earned.
“I guess…” My mind flickered briefly to that split-second moment on the haunted road, the one that shifted something in me, but I quickly shut it down. “I missed home. Besides, if I leave you alone much longer, you might run the business into the ground.”
“I’m in too good a mood today, so I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” she said, laughing. She looked even happier now than she'd been last night when I'd first gotten home. “Have you told Ayden and Allen yet?”
“I’m meeting them now.”
We headed downstairs, Mom practically glowing as she detailed exactly how she planned to silence Aunt Dee, who'd apparently been spreading rumors about why the Ashbourne heir, meaning me, was never in town.
Isabel, our estate manager, interrupted Mom’s scheming plans. “Mabel.” Isabel held out a wrapped box topped with a decorative ribbon, “this just came for you.”
Mom eyed the box warily. “I didn’t order anything.”
Isabel cleared her throat awkwardly. “It’s from Eleanor.”
I was momentarily thrown. Eleanor sending ribbon-tied gifts wasn't exactly normal behavior. Rivals didn't exchange peace offerings without hidden knives beneath the bows.
Mom opened the box cautiously, leaning back as if bracing herself for a miniature bomb, or at least something equally unpleasant to jump out. Instead, there were apple pies inside. Innocent-looking apple pies.
Her guarded expression shifted instantly into pure delight.
For apple pies to land as a gift, something had clearly happened. “All right, Mom. What did you do?”
She glanced at me guiltily but stayed quiet, which told me everything I needed to know. I turned toward Isabel, silently demanding an explanation.
“She paused the clubhouse project Steve proposed,” she said reluctantly.
I raised an eyebrow at Mom. “Did you seriously?” Last time we'd spoken, she'd practically pitched it to me like it was the project of the century.
“She was spreading rumors,” she said defensively, “claiming the Ashbourne name would fade and her family would take center stage after this project. She thinks she’s the first lady of Orange Falls.”
“So you put the brakes on the project just to put her in her place?” I shook my head, torn between amusement and disbelief. “You two really can't let go of your petty feuds, can you?”
“It was a strategic move.” She insisted sharply.
“Right, strategically petty.”
She opened her mouth as if to protest but quickly snapped it shut, guilt flickering clearly across her face.
“You two are impossible,” I muttered, walking away even as a reluctant smile tugged at my lips.