Chapter 17
Asher
Eva is sprawled across my bed, one arm flung over my chest, her face half-buried in my pillow.
She’s snoring. Her hair splays everywhere—a dark tangle that covers most of her features. It’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen and heard.
I lie there for a moment, watching her. The way the morning light catches the curve of her shoulder. The way her mouth is slightly open. The way her fingers twitch against my skin like she’s typing in her dreams.
I want to remember her in my bed, in my space, filling a void I didn’t admit was empty. I remember photos exist just for this purpose, and I reach for my phone—carefully, so I don’t wake her—on the floor beside the bed. Except…when I power it on, it practically explodes.
My stomach drops as I see seven missed calls from Clayton and a dozen text messages looking increasingly urgent in preview.
They all reference a “situation,” with the most recent coming at 7:02, 7:09, and 7:13 this morning.
It is now just past eight o’clock, so whatever it is, Clayton’s been waiting hours to resolve it.
I look at Eva, sleeping peacefully, and am filled with squirming anxiety. I don’t want to leave this bed to shatter the fragile perfection of this morning with whatever work crisis is brewing.
But Clayton doesn’t call seven times unless something is seriously wrong.
I ease myself from under Eva’s arm, moving slowly, holding my breath. She stirs, mumbles something unintelligible, and burrows deeper into the pillow.
I grab my boxers off the floor, find a t-shirt and slip out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind me. I hobble to the kitchen, put on coffee more out of habit than desire, and call Clayton. He answers on the first ring.
“Asher, what the hell? I was about to send a search party.”
“Sorry. I was…” I glance toward the bedroom. “Unavailable.”
“At eight in the morning? In Fork Lick?” Clayton sounds skeptical, then amused. “Wait. Did you finally get a life?”
“What’s the emergency, Clayton?”
“Right. Business.” He takes a breath, and I can hear the shift in his tone. “Our time is up.”
I lean against the kitchen counter. “What?”
“The incubator, Trede…the funding expired, and I’m going in a different direction.”
I grip the edge of the counter. My worst nightmare—immediate loss of my career. “You’re just telling me now? Don’t these things take months?”
“Sorry, man. I’ve been running numbers and taking meetings with the Trede folks.” Clayton sighs. “Look, the details don’t matter. What matters is that things are moving fast. Really fast. And I want to talk you through my vision.”
“Your vision…”
“Obviously you’re part of my future, Ashy. You built half our infrastructure. You know the systems better than anyone, including me.”
I close my eyes. “Clayton…”
“I know you hate this stuff. I know you hate travel and meetings and all of it. But I need you in New York immediately.”
“What?” I glance at my booted ankle, out the window at the copse between my house and Eva’s.
Clayton sighs. “I’ve been chill with you working remote for years, bud. I never even asked you to turn your camera on for meetings. But this is different. Meow Mobile has reached an inflection point.”
I dig my nails into the countertop. “Will you quit the corporate speak? Your whole shtick has been connecting rural communities. Are you dissolving the company?”
He snorts. “The company’s been running on fumes. Can you come down here so I can show you some shit in real time?”
I stare out the window at Pierce Acres and Bedd Fellows Farm—the community that now relies entirely on this company, based on my reputation and recommendation in bringing it here.
I certainly don’t have the ability to keep this thing going on my own, and I owe it to these folks to keep Gran active on TikTok at least.
I groan. “How long will this take?”
“Jesus, Asher. A week. Maybe two. Depends on how the meetings go.” Clayton’s voice softens. “I know this is bad timing. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t critical.”
That word calls up doctor visits and beeping machines. I’ve seen critical before. “I’ll hop on a train.”
“Great. I’ll email you some reading material.” He hesitates. “Thank you, Asher. I mean it. I know this isn’t easy for you.”
“Yeah.” We hang up. I stand in my kitchen, phone in hand, and try to process what just happened.
Twenty-four hours ago, I was sitting across from Eva, watching her face in the candlelight, thinking about the future.
Twelve hours ago, I was inside her, feeling more connected to another person than I have in my entire life.
And now I’m the one leaving.
The coffee maker beeps. I pour a cup I don’t really want and take a sip, burning my tongue.
I should wake Eva and drop this bomb, but I can’t figure out what words to say. I am not ready for this to end. How can I tell her I need to leave to beg for my job when I just shut her out for fear of her leaving?
It’s not an ending. I’ll come back. If I repeat this often enough, its truth will sink in. Without this job, I have nothing… nothing I can do in Fork Lick, anyway. No degree or experience outside of Meow Mobile, and it’s not like the Catskills are a hotbed of tech careers.
Besides that, the thought of leaving Eva makes my body clench and my ears pop.
I’m still standing there, staring at my coffee, when I hear footsteps in the hallway.
I turn around to find Eva in the doorway wearing my shirt from last night and nothing else but a satisfied smile.
She looks incredible with sleepy eyes and rumpled hair.
She’s gorgeous and totally at home in my space, and this is, I realize, all I want in the world.
My entire nervous system fries clenches in fear of this pending tumult.
“There you are,” she says, her voice rough with sleep. “I woke up, and you were gone. Thought maybe you’d made a run for it.”
“Never.”
She smiles and pads toward me, wrapping her arms around my waist and pressing her face into my chest. “Mmm. You made coffee. You’re perfect.”
“I’m really not.”
“You are to me.” She tilts her head for a kiss, and I give it to her, soft and slow. She tastes like morning and sleep and all my hopes and dreams.
When we break apart, she frowns slightly. “You okay? You seem tense.”
I should tell her. Right now. Just say it. But she’s looking at me with those eyes, and she’s warm in my arms, and I want five more minutes of this. Five more minutes before reality intrudes.
“Just thinking,” I say.
“Dangerous.” She pulls back and eyes the coffee maker. “Is there enough for me?”
“Always.” I pour her a cup while she settles onto one of my kitchen stools, tucking her bare legs underneath her. She looks around my kitchen—at the sparse counters, the minimal decor, the general air of a space that’s functional but not really lived in.
“You need plants,” she announces.
“Plants?”
“This place is too sterile. Plants would help.” She sips her coffee. “Gran said she has some cuttings. And when my sisters come, I’ll have them bring some spider babies for you. Eila has enough succulents to populate a jungle.”
I snort. “Are there even succulents in a jungle climate?”
“Very funny, Mr. Horticulture.” She’s talking about the future. About bringing things into my house, making it more like hers. Like she’s planning to be here for a while. The guilt twists deeper.
“Eva—”
My phone buzzes on the counter with itineraries from Clayton. Eva glances at it, then at me. “Work?”
“Yeah.” I take a breath. “Actually, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Her expression shifts, the sleepy contentment fading into something more guarded. “That sounds ominous.”
“It’s not—I mean, it’s bad. It’s just…” I run a hand through my hair. “Clayton called about a zillion times while we were asleep. Meow Mobile’s funding ran out. I need to go meet Clay to beg for my job.”
“Oh, Asher. That really sucks.”
“I really need this trip to go well. Like, really.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “What if the job is gone? What then?”
“Then I will fucking panic, enter bankruptcy, have to sell the house… Should I go on?”
Eva sets down her coffee cup. Her face is carefully neutral now, which is somehow worse than if she were upset.
“Okay,” she says.
“Okay?” I’m snapping at her, and I don’t like it. I close my eyes and practice deep breathing. “I am not myself right now. I apologize.”
I open my eyes to see her lips pursed, considering.
“People lose jobs all the time. You’re sure there’s no alternative funding? I don’t know enough about business to understand why you’re so rattled, but I’ve definitely supported my sisters through a job change before.”
“This is a little different from losing a social media client or a retail job.” I start to rinse my coffee mug, not able to meet her eye yet.
I’m spiraling, imagining a future where I have to stock shelves for Ginny Quick for minimum wage.
And I’m certain I just insulted Eva in my panic, which means she will sell to Ginny and leave while I’m in New York.
“I know I’m being awful right now.” I move toward her, wanting to touch her, to close the distance that’s suddenly opened between us.
She spins her coffee cup on the counter, brow furrowed. “I don’t think I can say anything helpful.” She slides off the stool and walks her mug toward the sink. “I have contractors coming for estimates and a thousand things to figure out about mortgages, so I’m going to head out.”
I swipe a hand along my jaw and blow out a breath. “I know I’m fucking this up and being a dick.”
“Yes,” she says over her shoulder en route to my room.
I follow her, the boot clunking on the floor as I hobble. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. We can talk about this. Eva, last night was … I don’t have words for what last night was. And I’m not about to let work ruin it.”
She lets out a shaky breath. “I’m being stupid. I know I’m being reactive. I’ve been here for like twelve hours, and I’m upset about you leaving and minimizing my career stress. That’s not healthy of me.”
I press a hand to my chest, desperate. “I woke up next to you this morning, and you were snoring and drooling on my pillow, and I thought it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
And then I saw Clayton’s messages, and all I could think was I didn’t want to leave this bed. Didn’t want to leave you.”
She laughs, watery but real. “I don’t drool.”
“You absolutely drool.”
“Slander.”
“I have photographic evidence. Almost.” I kiss her forehead. “I was trying to take a picture when I saw the messages.”
“A picture of me drooling?”
“A picture of you sleeping in my bed. For posterity.”
“That’s creepy.” But she’s smiling now, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. “Fine. Go to New York. Do your meetings. Save your company. But if you minimize my family’s jobs again, I will break your other ankle.”
“Noted.”
She kisses me hard and quick. “Go. Do the thing. Come back to me.”
“I will.”
She gathers her clothes from where they’re scattered around my bedroom—her dress, her jacket, one shoe by the door and one under the bed.
I watch her get dressed, trying to memorize the details.
The way she hops on one foot, pulling on her shoe.
The way she twists her hair up off her neck. At the door, she turns.
“Hey, Asher?”
“Yeah?”
“Last night was…” She shakes her head, smiling. “I don’t have words either. But it was really top-notch.”
“It really was.”
Then she’s gone, walking across the space between our houses, and I’m standing in my doorway watching her go.
I catch Ethan en route to Climax where he apparently needs to fetch some sort of tractor part.
I hoist myself into his truck, tossing my suitcase into the bed alongside his tarps and tools.
He grunts a greeting and shuts off the radio, where his brother Jackson’s voice had been blaring. Then Ethan starts laughing.
“Look at you. You’re miserable.”
I glare, buckling my seatbelt. “Well, yeah. Would you want to go into the city?”
He shakes his head. “Never again if I can help it. But that’s not what I’m talking about.” He grins. “Thought you’d ask your date for a ride to the station…”
“Colleen shouldn’t be talking about restaurant patrons outside of work.” I smile and shake my head, knowing the entire town probably watched Eva’s and my date through the restaurant windows.
He shoots a finger gun at me as he turns onto the highway. “So, what’s the problem? You look like someone kicked your puppy.”
I avoid eye contact, staring at the passing fallow fields as I tell Ethan about the job. “I just got her, and I have to leave.”
“You’ll come out on top.” Ethan’s voice is serious now. “She’s not going anywhere. She’s building a whole life here.”
“I guess.”
“What are you actually worried about?”
He’s giving me that look—the one he’s been giving me since we were teenagers, and I was convinced every good thing in my life was about to implode. And I have no idea how to answer him.
Four years ago, he was facing literal bankruptcy.
His family brought the whole damn community together to help raise funds to save Bedd Fellows Farm.
My cruel words to Eva echo in my head as I think about how focused I’ve been on my stupid job as the only lifeline.
The thing is, I haven’t built the goodwill Ethan has.
I don’t have a parade of family members ready to come to my rescue.
I have exactly one marketable skill, a new relationship I probably fucked up, and a benefactor who ran out of money.
Ethan drops me at the train station and drives off with a salute. The next time I see him, my entire world may have shifted.