Chapter 9 Asher
Asher
I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the moment on the golf cart over and over. The way Eva leaned in. The way her lips parted. The way I reached past her like a coward. I recognize I just took the easy route, but it had to be done for my long-term preservation.
If I started something with Eva and she inevitably went home to her real life and actual family, it would break me completely. Yet here I am, awake at three in the morning, regretting not kissing her, marinating in the shame of knowing I hurt her.
When dawn eventually comes, I drag myself out of bed and go through my morning routine on autopilot, waiting for her to knock and make the coffee. So I can turn her away.
Except… eight o’clock comes and goes.
She doesn’t show up.
I tell myself this is good. I wanted distance for safety and control. But I’m still watching the clock for her, noticing how quiet the house is, how the coffeemaker seems lonely on the counter.
I could make my own—I’m steadier on my feet now—but somehow, I just stand there, staring, willing the door to open.
At nine, I give up pretending to work and go to the window.
Eva’s outside, dragging more equipment out of the sugar shack. I watch her for longer than I should. She examines equipment, takes photos, wipes sweat from her forehead, stretches…
She’s not giving up on Pierce Acres, but does that mean she’s planning to stay? I force myself from the window and back to staring at code like I’m Neo in the Matrix.
A knock comes at noon.
My stomach swoops with excitement, knowing it’s her, and I hate myself for it.
“It’s me!” Eva’s voice, bright as always. That’s unexpected, and I don’t know how to respond.
She lets herself in. I hear her footsteps in the kitchen, the sound of the coffee maker starting. “Hey,” she says from my office doorway. “My morning got away from me, so I’m making the Joe a little late.”
“Working.” I don’t look up from my screen.
The energy in the room shifts. “Right. Well, I brought lunch. Did you know there are fresh empanadas up at Alex and Molly’s place?” She sets a container on my desk. The smell is incredible—beef and spices and homemade pastry.
I should thank her or at least look up and acknowledge her kindness like a normal human being. “Thanks,” I say, my voice flat and dismissive. “Anna makes these.” Come on, Asher.
I’m met with silence, of course.
“Asher.” Her voice is careful now. “About last night—”
“Nothing happened last night.”
“I know, but I thought maybe—”
“You thought wrong.”
More silence. I can feel her staring at me, but I keep my eyes on the screen. Code I’m not actually reading blurs together. All I can see is her reflection in the monitor, standing in my doorway in her work clothes, holding out kindness like an offering.
“Take it,” something in me screams. “Take it before it’s gone.”
But I’ve been here before. I’ve reached for something good and watched it slip through my fingers. Safer never to hold it at all.
“Okay.” She sounds hurt. Small. “Well. I’ll just… I’ll go.” She should go. This is what I want.
But then she stops at the door. “Actually. Before I go. Can I for real get your Wi-Fi password? I need to upload some content, and my cell service is terrible.”
I see my chance to draw a clean line and end this before it goes any further. I can clarify that whatever we had between us cannot be. I can be the villain, so she doesn’t have to wonder.
“No.” The word comes out harsh.
“What?”
I look at her reluctantly. “This isn’t a public network, Eva. I need it secure for my job. I told you, you need to subscribe to Meow Mobile.”
Her face goes through several expressions—confusion, hurt, something harder. “Right. Your job. That you do alone. In your hermit cave.”
“Exactly.”
“Got it.” Her voice is clipped. “Wouldn’t want me cluttering your space any more than I already have.”
“Eva—”
“No, it’s fine. I get it. Last night was… I misread things.” Eva continues, and her voice is shaking now. I don’t dare meet her eyes. “I thought… I thought we were becoming friends.” The word sits between us like broken glass.
“We’re neighbors,” I say. “That’s all.” Each word is a knife I twist into my own chest. We’re so much more than neighbors… or we could have been, if I weren’t such a fucking mess.
I want to take it back. I want to tell her the truth—I’m scared, I’m broken, I’ve wanted her since the moment she screamed at me in the woods, and I want her more every day, and that’s exactly why I can’t have her.
But the words stick in my throat.
Her face pales. Then she nods once, sharp and final. “Right. Well, neighbor, I’ll stay out of your way.”
She leaves before I can respond.
The rest of the day drags. I try to work, but I’m useless. Clay sent over another feature I need to develop for the company, and I’ve been too distracted to even map a flow chart.
I made a woman hate me. On purpose.
I peek out the window where she’s still working, but she doesn’t look toward my house. She doesn’t wave or check if I’m watching her.
Mission accomplished, I guess.
My sister calls around six. I consider not answering, but she’ll just keep calling. “What?”
“Well, hello to you too, grumpy.” She sounds happy, and I hate her for it. “How’s your ankle? Colleen said you seemed upset last night.”
“Fine.”
“Just fine? That’s all I get? Eva is absolutely lovely, and you apparently rushed out of there so quickly.”
“My ankle hurt.”
“Mm-hmm. And how’s Eva after all that?”
“How would I know?”
Silence on the other end. Then, “Asher. What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“You did something. I can hear it in your voice. What happened?”
“I have to go.” I start clicking the keyboard, hoping it sounds serious.
“Asher, wait—”
I hang up.
Immediately, I feel like shit. Lia doesn’t deserve that. She’s been nothing but supportive, nothing but kind, and I shut her down because I can’t handle my own feelings.
My phone buzzes.
Whatever you did, fix it. Life’s too short to be this stupid.
I stare at the message for a long time. Life’s too short. Lia knows that better than anyone. When she got her health under control, she grabbed onto happiness with both hands—Ethan, the farm, the baby, the life she almost didn’t get to have.
She didn’t let fear stop her.
But I’m not Lia.
Eva doesn’t need me growling on her joy parade any more than my sister does. It’s just a matter of time before Eva realizes that I really am an old, grouchy beast of a man with nothing to offer her… apart from really fucking fast internet.
I sit in my dark office, staring at my screen, and tell myself this is protection, not punishment. But even I don’t believe it anymore.