Chapter 24 Eva
Eva
The morning of my soft opening, I wake up to the sound of my phone exploding with texts.
Eden
Esther
Koa wants to know if there’s a coffee maker in the room. I told him you’re not a monster, but he’s paranoid.
Eila
Ben says hi. Also, we’re bringing hops cuttings. For reasons.
Eliza
Reed and I are bringing three kinds of cheese. You’re welcome.
Esther
Also, I’m inspecting the breakfast setup. Fair warning.
I groan and bury my face in the pillow. Asher’s arm wrap around my waist.
“They’re not even here yet, and they’re already being a lot,” he mumbles into my hair.
“That’s the Storm experience.”
“I’m aware.” He presses a kiss to my shoulder. “You ready for this?”
“No. Yes. Maybe.” I roll over to face him. “What if everything goes wrong? What if the rooms aren’t ready? What if the syrup experience is boring? What if Baabara eats someone?”
“The rooms are ready. The syrup experience is excellent. And Baabara has never eaten a person.” He pauses. “That we know of.”
“Not helpful.”
“Eva.” He cups my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. “You’ve been preparing for this for weeks. You know every inch of this property, every detail of every experience. Your sisters are going to love it. And if anything goes wrong, you’ll handle it, because that’s what you do.”
“When did you become the optimistic one?”
“Somewhere around the third time you made me leave the house for a social event. It’s a disease. I caught it from you.”
I laugh despite my nerves and kiss him. “Okay. I can do this.”
“You can do this.”
By noon, my sisters have descended on Fork Lick like a beautiful, chaotic hurricane.
Eden and Nate arrive first, tumbling out of their car with enough snacks to feed a small army.
Eden immediately demands a tour of the beehives she helped establish from afar, while Nate trails behind, looking slightly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of nature surrounding him.
Esther and Koa pull up next, Esther already making comments about “ambiance” and “traffic flow.” Koa—tall, calm, the perfect counterweight to my oldest sister’s intensity—just smiles and carries their bags inside without complaint.
Eila and Ben emerge from their car, arguing about the most efficient route from Pittsburgh, a debate that’s clearly been going for the entire drive.
Ben’s got a case of Eila’s latest beer in the trunk, which he insists on showing Asher immediately.
And Asher doesn’t even have to pretend to be interested.
And finally, Eliza and Reed arrive with enough artisanal goat cheese to stock a small shop, plus a crate full of tree samples from their hydroponic business.
“Everyone’s here,” I say, standing on the porch of Tapped Out, watching my sisters scatter across the property like colorful, opinionated confetti.
Asher appears beside me, coffee in hand. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I lean into him. “It’s just weird, you know? Having my two worlds collide like this.”
“They seem to be colliding pretty well.”
He’s right. It feels like family dinner, just relocated, with the same discussions of pollinators and gossip and random interjections about stem splicing.
Baabara has evidently invited herself to the party, and Pepper is overjoyed to see Eliza.
The next hour is a blur of tours and tastings and familiar hugs.
I show Esther and Koa to their room—the largest of course—with a view of the maple grove and the fancy coffee maker I installed specifically because I knew Esther would judge me otherwise.
Esther inspects everything and nods in approval.
“Not bad, baby sister.” From Esther, that’s basically a standing ovation.
Eila and Ben get the cozy room at the back, with the exposed beam ceiling and the reading nook Ben immediately claims for their dog, Maurice. Eila’s more interested in the window that overlooks the trees she’s been asking me about via text for months.
“They look healthy,” she pronounces. “You’ve been following my advice.”
“It really felt a lot more like commandments.”
She arches a brow at me. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Well…” I hug her. “Now I do, too.”
Eliza and Reed take the room with the best view of the barn, and Eden and Nate get the sugar shack bungalow—my pride and joy.
I converted the original shack into a tiny private retreat, with warm wood, soft lighting, and a bed piled high with quilts.
The actual syrup processing happens in a new building; the old shack has better bones for romance.
“Eva.” Eden stands in the doorway, eyes wide. “This is incredible.”
“Yeah?”
“I want to live here forever.” She throws her arms around me. “I’m so proud of you.”
I blink back unexpected tears. “Don’t make me cry. I have a picnic to host.”
“Fine, fine.” She pulls back, grinning. “But I’m telling everyone I know about this place. You’re going to be booked for years.”
“That’s the hope.”
The Bedds arrive en masse for the Tapped Out feast picnic—Lia and Ethan with Porter.
Gran and Wesley hold hands like teenagers while Alex and Molly trail behind with their dog, Trixie.
Sam and Diane arrive with a crate of apples and a bushel of children, plus more dogs that Maurice can’t wait to meet.
Colleen and Bacon roll up with Cassie and Danny and a bunch of dog treats to keep the pups occupied so we humans can try to get to know one another.
“Is this everyone?” Nate asks weakly, watching the crowd expand across the lawn.
“I cannot possibly imagine anyone else fitting in the backyard,” Asher says, tugging at his collar.
I booked a catered meal from Bacon for the soft opening, and he laces on his apron, preparing to describe all the Bedd and Bedd-adjacent businesses that contributed ingredients.
Eila’s beer pairs perfectly with everything, and I’m learning just how many unexpected foods taste better with maple syrup.
I stand at the edge of it all, watching my Pittsburgh family and my Fork Lick family merge into one loud, messy, wonderful whole.
The sun sets, and the solar-powered twinkle lights bathe the yard in a golden glow. It’s like a fairytale—my own tumultuous happily ever after, featuring all my sisters living their best lives.
One by one, my sisters and their partners drift toward their rooms, full of food and family and happiness. I hug each of them goodnight and try not to fret about my hostess preparations.
“Breakfast is at nine,” I tell Eden and Nate as they head toward the sugar shack bungalow. “Unless you want to sleep in. Totally fine. No pressure. I’ll leave a basket outside your door.”
“You’re adorable when you’re nervous,” Eden says. “Stop worrying. Everything is perfect.”
The Bedds scatter in a wave of dog fur and tired children. Gran has, to my horror, led a parade of her relatives to clean everything up, so the whole place sparkles without Asher or me lifting a finger.
Gran kisses my cheek. “You’re a good girl, Eva Storm,” she says. “I knew you belonged here the moment I met you.”
Finally, finally, the yard is empty except for the lingering smell of wood smoke and pie. I’m folding chairs when I notice Baabara trotting determinedly up the hill toward the porch.
“Oh no you don’t.” I intercept her before she can break into my business. “Back down the hill. Go on. Shoo.”
Baabara gives me an offended look but allows herself to be herded toward Bedd Fellows Farm, where the golf cart is just disappearing with the last of the stragglers. I watch until she’s safely down the hill, then turn toward the house.
Our house—mine and Asher’s. The house where I fell in love with a grumpy hermit who growled at me in the woods and then proceeded to let me climb his walls until they crumbled.
He’s waiting for me on the porch, two glasses of wine in hand.
“Everyone settled?” he asks.
“I think so.” I take the wine and collapse into his lap on the porch swing. “I can’t believe we pulled that off.”
“You pulled it off. I really did nothing.”
“You talked to people, Asher. Multiple people. For hours.”
“I need at least a week to recover.”
I laugh and rest my head on his shoulder. The night is quiet now, just crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl. The stars are out—more stars than I ever saw in Pittsburgh, a whole sky full of them.
“I feel so lucky,” I say softly. “One day I was ignoring certified mail and convincing myself I wanted nothing of my own. And now I have all of this.”
“It’s not luck.” Asher kisses the top of my head.
“Hm?”
“You worked for this, Eva. Every bit of it. Tapped Out, these relationships, the life you’ve built here…
None of that was handed to you. You chose it.
You fought for it. You made it happen.” He turns to look at me, his expression serious.
“Don’t call it luck. That diminishes everything you’ve accomplished. ”
My throat feels tight. “When did you get so good at pep talks?”
He shrugs, then lifts my hand and presses a kiss to my knuckles. “I’m proud of you. In case that wasn’t clear.”
“It’s getting clearer.” I set down my wine and shift to face him. “You know what else is clear?”
“What?”
I stand and pull him up with me. “I need a yeti to take me to bed.”
He grins, teeth glinting in the starlight, eyes twinkling bright. “That is a fantastic idea.”
We walk inside, hand in hand. The house is quiet, warm, ours. Upstairs, the bedroom we share—because I’m not spending another night in a bed that doesn’t have Asher in it—is soft with moonlight.
“I love you,” I tell him as he closes the door behind us.
“I love you, too.” He pulls me close. “Even though you just created a world where you are constantly bringing in people to disrupt my peace and quiet.”
I thrust my hips against his, delighting in the growing hardness in his pants. “Wait until I tell you about the soundproof panels I’m having installed in your office.”
His eyes fly wide with delight, and he spins me so we fall onto the bed. “You get hotter with each new idea.”
I kiss him to shut him up, and he lets me, both of us shedding clothes between breaths. He flips us so I’m lying on top of him, and he winds thick fingers through my hair.
“Look what you built,” he murmurs, and I squint out the window and then back down at his erection. I arch a brow.
“I meant all of this,” he says, kissing my forehead.
He takes his time with me, his movements reverent, slow, and deliberate.
His fingers trace the inside of my thigh, and I part my legs to straddle his hips, inviting him to reach higher, deeper.
When Asher pushes inside my body, it’s like a slow slide home, and I exhale as if I’ve been waiting for this.
“You feel like part of me,” he says into my shoulder.
“So do you.” We move together and know each other’s rhythms. There’s no performance here, no need to prove anything—just two people who worked to be in this moment and are now enjoying the hell out of soaking in it.
His pace quickens beneath me, and I rock against him, chasing that edge.
His hand on my lower back presses down, anchoring me, grounding me in this moment, in this place, in this man.
The sensation tips me over, and I come with his name catching in my throat, and he follows a few thrusts later, breathing hard against my neck.
We collapse into the pillows, tangled and sweaty and utterly satisfied. “I love you,” I say again. I can’t seem to stop saying it now that I’m allowed to.
“I know.” He pulls me closer, impossibly closer. “And I love you. Every eccentric, brilliant, brave part of you.”
The house settles around us—creaking floorboards, wind in the eaves, the distant sound of crickets. I think about that girl who arrived in Fork Lick lost and broken, convinced she didn’t have what it took to live on her own.
She planted herself here. Let her roots sink deep into soil that wanted her, that needed her. And from those roots, everything has grown—a business, a home, a family that spreads across two cities bound together with love and laughter and unruly farm animals.
Asher’s arm circle around me, and I savor the strength we built together.
Tomorrow, my sisters will wake up in rooms I prepared for them. They’ll taste food made from ingredients grown and crafted by people who care. They’ll experience the life I built—not despite my rocky beginning, but because of it.