CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Ledger
The house is quiet when I open the front door to Asher’s house. The kitchen light is on, its funky chandelier creating crazy shadows on the white shiplapped walls as I make my way up the stairs.
I stop in the doorway.
She’s asleep, lying on her side, with her hair fanned out across the white pillowcase. Her shoulder is bare, the pale pink of her lips parted, as her even breathing fills the room.
I welcome the blissful silence. Normally I can’t stand the quiet, but here, on the farm, there is something about it that makes it ring differently for me. Or maybe it’s just Asher who does that.
Quieting my head is an impossible feat most days. My thoughts never stop. To-do lists are constantly being added to. Facts are thought of, figures are worked through. Details are being defined.
It’s how I work.
It’s who I am.
And yet this is the only place I’ve ever been where the silence soothes rather than grates. It’s even more potent in the mornings when I wake before Ash and simply enjoy watching her sleep. Holding her. Loving her—fuck.
Is that why I was so angry with my brothers at the fundraiser? Did they see it when I refused to?
I love her.
How did I never see it before? I’m in love with Asher Wells.
The same girl I was in love with fifteen years ago.
The question is, what am I going to do about it?
I undress, unable to take my eyes off her, slip into bed behind her, and pull her against me.
“I love you,” I whisper against the back of her head.
I love you, yet I have no fucking clue what to do about it.