Chapter 13 Asher
Asher
I’m barely calm from spending so much time with Eva when Ethan shows up at my door and orders me to get in his truck. Apparently, I am going to Tiddy’s bar whether I like it or not.
“I’m working.” I gesture toward my office feebly, but my lifelong friend crosses his arms and shakes his head.
“No, you’re not. You’re staring at your screen pretending to work while thinking about Eva.”
“I’m not—”
“Asher.” He looks at me like I stared at him when he first started wooing my sister. “Get in the truck.”
I could argue. I could dig in, refuse to move, remind him I’m a grown man who makes his own choices. But the Bedd family is clearly invested in whatever this is with me and Eva, and if I say no tonight, they’ll just come back with something more ridiculous tomorrow.
Tiddy’s Bar is a Fork Lick institution—a squat brick building with a neon sign that’s been missing the apostrophe S since 1987. The “T” flickers ominously. The parking lot is mostly potholes with a dusting of gravel. The door sticks unless you hip-check it just right.
I love this place. Not that I’d ever admit that out loud.
Ethan deals with the door so I can get inside, and we’re hit with the familiar smell of old wood, spilled beer, and whatever’s frying in the kitchen.
Patsy Cline croons from the ancient jukebox.
The mounted deer head above the bar is wearing a Pittsburgh Fury cap despite our proximity to the Rangers.
“Well, well, well.” Tiddy himself is behind the bar, a barrel-chested man in his sixties with a gray ponytail and a tattoo of a mermaid on one forearm. “Asher Thorne out of the house after dark. Someone check for locusts.”
“Hilarious,” I mutter, sliding onto a barstool.
“Seriously, son. I thought you’d turned into a vampire up there on that hill. Ethan, what’d you do? Drag him by his ear?”
“Something like that,” Ethan says. “Two copperheads and whatever’s good from the kitchen.”
“Fried pickles just came out. And Mabel dropped off some of her jalapeno poppers.”
“Perfect.”
Tiddy draws two pints of the local copper ale, still eyeing me like I’m some kind of exotic animal that wandered in from the woods. Which is fair. But that just makes me think of Eva calling me a yeti.
“How’s the ankle?” he asks, nodding at my boot.
“Not great.”
“Heard you had a pretty nurse taking care of you.” His eyes twinkle. “New girl. The one who inherited Pierce Acres.”
“We’re just neighbors.”
“Uh-huh.” Tiddy’s tone says he doesn’t believe that for a second. “That’s what Ethel says about her and Wesley.” He ambles off to check on the fryer, and I take a long pull of my beer.
The bar is maybe half full, which counts as bustling for a weeknight in Fork Lick. I recognize most of the faces—farmers, tradespeople, and a few folks who work remotely like me and emerged from their caves for human contact.
Hank Morrison is playing darts badly in the corner.
The Delgado sisters are sharing a plate of nachos by the window.
Old Pete is asleep in his usual booth, an empty glass in front of him and his John Deere cap pulled low over his eyes.
I haven’t been here in ages, but the great thing about a small town like this is that not much changes.
Tiddy returns with a basket of fried pickles, golden and glistening. The smell alone makes my stomach growl. I grab one and bite into it.
“These would be good with maple syrup,” I say without thinking.
Ethan stares at me. “What?”
“Nothing.” I shove another pickle into my mouth to stop myself from talking. But the thought is already there. Eva, standing in the sugar shack, talking about the evaporator pans. Eva, getting excited about the old equipment. Everything comes back to her.
But she’s not from here, and she’s not staying.
We’re halfway through the pickles when Burt Halverson stops by to clap Ethan on the shoulder. “Ethan! Looking forward to the strawberry harvest this year. Doreen’s already planning her jam operation.”
“Should be a good season,” Ethan says. “Assuming the rain holds off.”
“Fingers crossed. Tell Lia I said hi.” Burt notices me and does a double-take. “Asher? Damn, son. Thought you’d died up there.”
“Still breathing.”
“Good to see you out. Don’t be a stranger.” He moves on, and I feel Ethan watching me.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. Just noticing that everyone’s surprised to see you.”
“Your point?”
“You used to come here before you could buy beer legally. You used to be part of this town. Now people act like you’re a ghost.”
I don’t have a response to that, so I drink my beer instead.
The jalapeno poppers arrive, and they’re perfect—crispy, creamy, with just enough heat. Mabel’s recipe is legendary. I eat three of them before I realize Ethan hasn’t touched any food. He’s just sitting there, watching me with that patient expression that means he’s working up to something.
“Just say it,” I tell him.
“Say what?”
“Whatever intervention speech Lia scripted for you. I know that’s why we’re here.”
Ethan almost smiles. “Lia didn’t script anything. She just threatened to withhold sex if I didn’t get you out of that house.”
I wrinkle my nose in disgust as my friend references sex with my sister. “I didn’t need to know that.”
“Consider it payback for all the years you made my life difficult.” He takes a swig of his beer. “Remember when you lied to me for ten years?”
The question catches me off guard. “That was a long time ago.”
“You sat there right next door, drifting further and further away.”
“I was being protective.”
“You were being an asshole,” he says without heat. “And I proved to you once before that it takes a village to take care of someone properly, right?”
I stare at the bar top, at the rings left by a thousand sweating glasses. “She was sick. She was suffering. I couldn’t—”
“I know.” Ethan’s voice softens. “I know why you did it. But Asher, you spent so many years trying to keep Lia safe that you forgot to live your own life. When she got better and didn’t need you anymore, you just… retreated. Bought that house from your parents and disappeared into it.”
“I didn’t disappear. I work. I contribute.”
“You exist. That’s not the same as living.”
The words land somewhere in my chest. I want to argue, but I can’t find the lie in what he’s saying.
“You and Lia worked through it,” I say. “You’re happy now.”
“We are, but we almost weren’t.” He turns on his barstool to face me fully.
“You know what saved us?” I blink. I’m not actually sure.
One day, my sister was engaged to a shit head in the city and the next, she was living with my best friend, working through a new medication protocol, and blooming with health.
“I can tell you it wasn’t hiding; it wasn’t fighting with doctors.” Ethan slaps the bar. “I owned up to my shit, communicated with my family, and took a risk sharing my true feelings with the woman who imprinted on my heart.”
“Imprinted? Are you a werewolf?”
We both laugh, because we watched those stupid vampire movies together growing up, crammed in the living room at the Bedd house with all his siblings, me glaring at him each time he tried to hold my sister’s hand.
I chew the last pickle slice and shrug at him. “What’s your point?”
“I see what you’re doing with Eva—pushing her away before she can leave.”
“I’m not—”
“You brought her along to babysit your nephew.” Ethan shrugs. “You cracked the door open, and now you’re sitting here wondering if you should slam it shut again.”
I don’t answer. Because he’s right. It all sounds so obvious when he grunts it out at me.
The jukebox switches to Willie Nelson. Someone cheers at the dartboard—Hank must have actually hit something. Old Pete snores in his booth.
“You can’t control whether people leave,” Ethan says quietly. “You know that, right? People leave or they don’t. They get sick or they don’t. They stay or they go. You can’t spreadsheet your way into certainty.”
“I know.”
“But you can control whether you show up. Whether you take the chance. Whether you let yourself have something good, even though it might not last forever.” He finishes his beer. “Nothing lasts forever, Asher. That doesn’t mean it’s not worth having.”
I think about Eva. About the way she looked holding Porter, natural and warm. About the way she laughed at something Lia said, her whole face lighting up. She makes me feel alive again. Not just existing.
“I don’t have anything to offer her,” I admit. “I’ve been alone for… a long time. And I’m much too fucking old for her, even if she were staying.”
Ethan holds up a thick, weathered finger. “You don’t have to be the world’s most perfect boyfriend. Women don’t want that, anyway. And I really don’t think she’s as young as you think she is. She seems like she’s seen some shit.”
“What about when she leaves?”
“What if she doesn’t?”
I’m on my third beer—well past my usual intake—when Tiddy comes by to clear our empty baskets. “You boys need anything else? Kitchen’s closing soon, but I can probably sweet-talk Ricky into one more order.”
“We’re good,” Ethan says. “Just the check.”
Tiddy nods, but he doesn’t leave. “Can I ask you fellas something? Business related?”
Ethan and I exchange a glance.
“Sure,” I say.
“It’s just…” Tiddy sighs, leaning against the bar.
“Things are changing around Fork Lick. Town’s growing.
New folks moving in. And that’s good, I guess, but I don’t know how to…
you know.” He waves a hand vaguely. “Reach them. The new people. They’re all on their phones, thanks to this guy.
” He jabs a thumb at me. “And I’m over here with a bar full of people who are actually asleep. ”
He’s not wrong. Tiddy’s has survived on regulars and word of mouth for decades. But things are changing gradually, including the arrival of a certain sunshine woman.
“You ever think about social media?” I ask. “Getting the bar online?”
Tiddy laughs. “Son, I can barely work my flip phone. Who’s gonna do that for me? My nephew tried once, made some sort of ‘TikTak,’ got three views and gave up.”
I think about Eva. About her viral posts.
About the comments from people who want to see more of Fork Lick, more small-town authenticity, more of the “cast of characters” she’s been documenting.
Tiddy’s would be perfect for that. The sticky door.
The flickering sign. The deer head in a Pittsburgh cap. Eva would love this project.
“I might know someone,” I say. “She’s good at this stuff.”
Tiddy’s eyebrows rise. “Yeah? They local?”
“She’s…” I hesitate. “She’s figuring that out. But she’s here now, and she’s… she’s really good. At the internet.”
“The Pierce Acres girl?”
Of course he knows. Everyone knows everything in this town.
“Her name’s Eva,” I say. “And yeah. She’s been making content about Fork Lick that’s taking off. Thousands of people are watching.”
Tiddy looks impressed. “Thousands, huh?”
“Give me a coaster. I’ll pass along your info, see if she’s interested.”
He slides a coaster across the bar—plain cardboard, tiddy’s bar stamped in faded ink, with the address and phone number underneath. I tuck it into my pocket.
“Appreciate that,” Tiddy says. “Pickles on me.”
He walks away before I can respond.
Ethan is grinning.
“Shut up,” I tell him.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking it.”
“I’m thinking my emotionally constipated best friend just went out of his way to help his not-girlfriend’s business.” He throws some cash on the bar. “That’s boyfriend shit, Asher.”
I stare at the coaster in my hand. The phone number doesn’t even list an area code. But my friend isn’t wrong about what it means to pass this along to Eva Storm.
Ethan pulls into my driveway and puts the truck in park.
“Thanks,” I say. “For the intervention.”
“Anytime.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Lia really does think you’re going to be okay. She just worries.”
“I know.”
“So stop giving her reasons to worry. Ask Eva out or don’t. But stop hiding.” He looks at me, serious now. “You deserve to be happy, Asher. You spent years taking care of everyone else. Maybe it’s time to let someone take care of you.”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
“Now get out of my truck. My wife is waiting, and unlike you, I enjoy going home to someone.”
I flip him off—fondly—and climb out. Inside, my house is quiet, and for the first time, it feels less like a sanctuary and more like a cage. I pull the coaster from my pocket and look at it for a long moment.
Then I walk to the window that faces Pierce Acres. The lights are on. Eva’s there, probably working, probably answering comments from strangers who’ve fallen in love with her Fork Lick story. I’ll bring her the coaster tomorrow.