CHAPTER THREE
Ledger
Pushing my chair back from my makeshift desk—the kitchen table of my rental house—I scrub a hand over my face and sigh in frustration.
Nothing is holding my attention. Fucking nothing.
Not the emails I have waiting to be answered, not the talking heads blathering on the television across the room about the expectations of record travel this year, and sure as hell not the absolute silence inside and outside this modest house on the outskirts of Cedar Falls.
Because all I can think about is Asher Wells.
What happened before.
The heartbreak.
The fear.
The constant looking over my shoulder every time I received an email or text from her that I’d leave unanswered.
But to make things even more confusing, tonight I felt her anger and sensed the hurt beneath the surface.
I watched her struggle with both, and it wasn’t until almost halfway through our conversation that it hit me—she doesn’t know.
What I was accused of. Why the Sharpe family up and left out of nowhere.
Why I never spoke to her again.
That has to be why she was so angry. And for good measure. But I was angry too. Wasn’t I the one who’d had the most to lose?
That’s the only explanation as to why she was so upset seeing me again. It has to be.
Christ.
I give a shake of my head to clear it.
It doesn’t work.
She’s still there.
Still owning my every thought.
How goddamn arrogant is that of me to assume I still affect her? There could be a dozen reasons why she was rattled and not a single one of them had to do with me. Right?
Just like there should be a dozen reasons why I should be working and not obsessing over her misplaced anger and a past I thought was dead and buried.
Jesus, Ledger. Get over it.
With a sigh and renewed determination, I read the email in front of me again. But I don’t get past the second sentence because it’s fucking impossible to focus.
She’s making it impossible.
Asher Wells is still here.
She’s really fucking here.
Talk about being blindsided. I was certain she’d left town long ago.
I figured that the only people who would be left from that summer would be her gran and pop.
I stressed over it, and then felt guilty that the teenage boy inside of me was relieved when I looked up Pop only to find out of his passing.
That sounds terrible considering Pop didn’t present any threat to me now .
. . but it still worried me that he’d be here. That he’d remember.
But I was wrong about Asher. She is here.
And when she turned to face me from behind the bar and those storm cloud-colored eyes of hers met mine, I was instantly transported back to fifteen years ago.
Back to that last night, that last kiss, where she stood in the moonlight by my truck, those same eyes staring into mine as she promised she’d come back and meet me later.
And the disbelief and utter heartache that came next.
“You’re not to see her again.”
“Dad . . . what are you talking about?”
“I don’t like repeating myself. You heard me.”
“I love her,” I blurt out.
“You’re thinking with your dick, Ledger. Every good man does at some point, but this is the wrong time and the wrong person to do it with.”
I shove up out of my chair. “You can’t tell me what to do,” I shout.
His hands are fisted in my shirt in an instant, his face inches from mine. His voice is a cool, even tone when he speaks next. “You’ll do as I say. I will not have you disobey me on this. Pretend she never existed. Pretend this summer never happened.”
Nothing can dampen the memory or roller coaster of emotions I went through that night. The pain, the anger, the confusion, the . . . agony.
I did nothing wrong . . . I know that.
Now.
And yet, hell, I’m standing in this quiet house remembering when it’s been forgotten for so long, aren’t I?
It’s fucking stupid really. Hell, it’s been over a decade. I’ve had many lovers since then, many women who’ve occupied my bed and my time so that Asher’s and my teenage puppy love was merely a blip on my radar . . . and yet seeing her tonight . . . fuck, seeing her tonight gave me pause.
Nostalgia. Isn’t that what this is? An unexpected walk down memory lane?
It’s more than that and that’s what’s fucking with my head.
It’s created the desire to know her now.
It’s reawakened an attraction to her I can’t deny.
It feels so wrong for me and yet so goddamn right.
I’m not a player by any means, but I’m also not one who pursues my exes once we’ve parted ways.
The been there, done that mentality in full effect.
And yet there’s something about Asher that had me pursuing her tonight.
That already has me wanting to see her again.
“It’s utter fucking madness is what it is,” I mutter to the empty house.
The teenage girl owned me way back when, and the woman she has become seemingly holds my interest now.
I take a sip of my beer and step out the door into the backyard. It’s not like I’m getting any work done anyway. I contemplate the silhouette of the mountains against the night sky. The stars burning bright overhead that the city lights I normally live beneath drown out.
She was just as beautiful as I remembered. Even more so. The mane of auburn hair is longer now. Those big, gray eyes of hers still overly expressive. The curves of her body more pronounced, more feminine, than they used to be.
Clearly, the years have physically been kind to her, and yet, I sense they’ve hardened that wide-eyed wonder she used to have too. I guess they have for both of us. My naiveté was ripped away that last night together. I wonder what stripped her of hers?
But with age comes experience. Wisdom. Perhaps hardship.
That shy, innocent teenager she once was, is no more.
She speaks her mind and clearly doesn’t care who she offends.
The jut of her chin in defiance wasn’t there before.
I love the sight of it and at the same time, am curious about what made her change.
Plans change.
Dreams change.
Weren’t those her words tonight?
She shouldn’t still be in Cedar Falls. She had huge dreams of leaving this town and an even greater talent to get her there.
A prestigious art school. An apartment in the big city.
The chance to experience real life—the good and the bad—on her own.
Wasn’t that what she wanted? What she aspired to do?
I bring my beer to my lips. What the hell was so important that she gave up her dreams to stay here?
Plans change.
I know better than anyone. Plans do change.