CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Asher
“So is this the touch base later and see how we feel about seeing each other again portion of the day?” I ask.
“It is.” God, I love his voice and how it wraps around me. “Did you have a good day?”
“I did. I worked on sorting some of Pop’s stacks. I took Gran some fresh lavender for her room. Then I came back here and surveyed the lavender with George to see how close or far we are on harvesting the different species.”
“And what was the consensus?” he asks.
“One is getting close. A few others have at least four more weeks.” I look out the window at a car that drives by the farm. Traffic on our road is few and far between, but the car keeps driving past. “What about your day? Were you busy conquering the world?”
“Not all of it.”
“Just a hemisphere then?”
“Something like that.” He chuckles. “Any regrets?”
His question catches me off guard. We’ve seen each other a couple times since that first night, so the fact that it comes out of the blue has me sitting up a little straighter.
“Should I be worried why you’re asking me that question?”
“No. It’s nothing. Callahan was giving me shit the other day about something and it led me to think, which led me to wonder if . . . I don’t know. If you had any regrets about . . . this.”
“No.” It’s a question I can answer without hesitation.
“No?”
“You?” I ask.
“Definitely not.”
“Whew, glad to know we’re on the same page,” I say dramatically, followed by an awkward silence where I want to ask when I can see him again but fear coming off . . . needy? Too clingy?
“I had every intention of asking you if you’d let me take you to dinner tonight, but I completely forgot that Hillary—my project manager—set up a working dinner with Espies.”
“The owner of the Cedar Mountain Resort?” I ask, referring to the swankiest ski resort between here and Billings.
“That’s the one. We’re trying to create exclusive packages for the guests. Luxury deals they can’t get anywhere else.”
“Luxury,” I murmur absently.
“Yes. Luxury. Decadence. A destination to lose yourself in. That’s our brand. That’s what S.I.N. is known for.”
“It’s attractive marketing. Have you met Espies yet?”
“No. What is it that I should know?” Ledger asks cautiously.
“He’s a decent guy.” I almost say indulged trust-fund kid, but figure that’s an insult to Ledger as well, so I refrain.
“Just steer clear of talk about hunting. Or trapping. Or anything to do with dead animals. It will unleash a conversation domination topic where he’ll show you a picture of every animal he has killed in the past twenty years, along with a very detailed story to go with each one. From spotting to shooting to skinning.”
“Um . . .”
“It’s okay, city boy. You don’t have to respond. The topic of hunting is commonplace here, but Espies takes it to a whole other level.”
“Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll definitely keep clear of that.”
“And if you’re trying to win his favor, take a bottle of Don Julio. That will make him happy.”
“Noted.” His soft sigh fills the line. “I’m sorry about . . . tonight.”
“Don’t be.” I look around the office. “I have plenty of work to keep me busy.”
We say our goodbyes, and I’m left staring at a blank computer screen with nothing but my own thoughts.
It’s for the best. His meeting. Us being apart for the night. Some distance so that things are left with a little perspective.
I laugh. Who am I kidding? I miss him.
As ridiculous as that sounds, I do.
“No time like the present to tackle more of Pop’s stacks,” I mutter to myself.
But there is a thought that keeps coming back to me. A thought I haven’t been able to kick since meeting Sarah in Bear Valley the other day.
I fell back on what I knew best, to save the day . . .
I twist my lips and stare into the night beyond the windows. Those words repeating in my head. I study the lavenders’ silhouettes. The dark shadow of Pop’s unfinished barn. The craggy oak tree towering over the south quadrant.
Ideas start to form. Begin to tumble. Take shape.
Luxury.
Decadence.
A destination to lose yourself in.
That’s when I see a light in the darkness. A way to make this work. A way to fall back on what I know best to save the day.
Screw Pop’s stacks.
I open my laptop and begin to plan.
* * *
My dreams are wild. Lights strung from tree to tree. Lavender tied and drying in rows from the barn ceiling. Tables end to end between the lavender rows, adorned with flameless candles and woven fresh flowers. Laughter—so much laughter—floating on the night air.
And love.
Definitely an abundance of love.
I awake with a start. My heart is pounding, but the smile my dream caused is still on my lips.
My cell rings again.
I scramble through the darkness, fearful something has happened to Gran, only to see Ledger’s name on the screen.
“Hello?”
“You’re sleeping. I’m sorry,” Ledger says. “I forgot you’re a farmer.”
“Whatever,” I say and roll my eyes as I sink back into my bed, pulling my comforter around me that still smells of his cologne. “It’s okay. Hi. How was your meeting?”
“It went well. Hunting was in fact brought up, but with Hillary’s help, I was able to steer the conversation as far away from it as possible.”
“Thank God for Hillary.”
“You can say that again. She’s a lifesaver.” He sounds tired, and the rasp to his voice tugs on parts of me. The lonely parts of me that love having him around.
“Definitely,” I agree with a laugh.
“So what did you do tonight? Flirt with random guys to make me jealous? Streak down Main Street to start more gossip? Think of me?”
My smile widens—it seems to be a permanent fixture when I talk to him. “All of the above.”
“That’s what I’d expect.” He chuckles. “So glad you haven’t changed.”
“Never.”
But I have. So much has changed over the years.
Pieces of life that don’t matter. Events that changed me. A loneliness I could never put words to.
Silence settles between us.
“Talk to me, Ash,” he murmurs. “Tell me why you gave up your dream to move to the big city. Tell me about the boys who broke your heart. Tell me . . . everything.”
“That’s a tall order.”
“Perhaps. But I want to know.”
So I tell him about college, Gran’s stroke, helping take care of her, and how the money ran out for me to return.
“That was a big ask. To give up your dreams to care for her,” he says without judgment.
“It was, but when you’ve lived your whole life and only two people have ever loved you, you don’t hesitate to sacrifice for them since they’ve sacrificed so much for you.”
There is a brief silence, then he clears his throat. “Three people. I loved you too, Asher.”
His admission has tears springing to my eyes. Maybe I’m just feeling vulnerable talking about all of this when it’s so much easier to shut down. When your own damn mother doesn’t want you, it’s hard to open yourself up to more hurt.
“Don’t get quiet on me now. Don’t run away.”
“I’m here.” I loved you too. Past tense. I’m not sure why that hits me so hard, but it does. “What else was on your list of questions? Oh. Yes. My love life.” His sigh is heavy in response. “You asked,” I warn.
“I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t have.” He chuckles.
“Don’t worry. There hasn’t been a lot or anyone meaningful, if that’s what you’re asking. A couple of seasonal visitors, a few local guys—but none of them lasted longer than a couple of months.”
“Is it bad if I say that makes me happy?”
“Are you saying you thought I slept around?” I tease.
“No. That’s not—I didn’t—”
“Relax, Ledger. I was just teasing you.”
“Talk about sticking my foot in my mouth. Jesus.” He snorts. “Why only a couple of months though? Is it because you’re picky or because you like the chase but not the after?”
It’s because none of them made me feel how you did.
“Maybe a little bit of both,” I lie. “First, it’s not exactly easy to date someone when you remember that he picked his boogers and wiped them on your desk in third grade.”
“Jesus,” he coughs out.
“Small-town life at its finest. And truth be told, I’m not exactly the easiest person to take home to Mom and Dad.
I have no parents, and up until recently, I lived with my grandparents, and a lot of men can’t handle the fact that I have a mind of my own and freely speak it.
They think it’s cute at first and then, after a month or two, try to tell me how things should be. ”
“I think that’s one of your best qualities.”
I blush under his praise. “Enough about me.”
“No. You haven’t told me nearly enough.”
“You just don’t want to answer the same questions.”
“You’re happy though, right, Ash? I mean you could always go back to school if you wanted. You could get out of Cedar Falls somehow. Dreams don’t have time limits.”
“Do I always wonder, what if? Of course, I do. Anyone else would do the same. It’s like half of me would love to pursue what I once wanted, while the other half is completely content being right here where I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not.”
“I think you’re a lot of people, Asher Wells,” he says softly. “I’m pretty sure I like all of them.”
I smile and snuggle deeper into my bed, allowing his words to wrap themselves around me. “Your turn.”
He groans. “I guess I opened that door, huh?”
“You did.”
“Lay it on me.”
“How did you lose your father?”
He blows out a breath. “Hitting with the hard stuff first, huh?”
“It’s easier to get it out of the way. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“No. It’s fine.” He pauses. “In a sense, I lost him the same way you lost your pop—in his sleep. But the root cause was Alzheimer’s.”
“I know for a fact that saying I’m sorry doesn’t ease any of the pain, but I am sorry you lost him, Ledger.”
“True, but thank you. Especially after everything he did to you . . . I don’t expect you to be sorry.”
“My feelings for him are irrelevant. I can still have compassion for you, your loss, and understand your grief.” I soften my tone. “Was it a long ordeal?”