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“Promise you’ll be there? At the tree?” “On one condition.” “What’s that?” He holds his hands out to his sides. “That you’ll love me forever,” he whisper-yells before flashing me a grin that could light up the darkened sky. Laughing, and feeling like nothing in the world could ever ruin this feeling, I jog back to where he’s standing and press a kiss to his lips. “I promise.”
Why? Why are you here? Why does seeing you bring back a million emotions—elation, anger, surprise, shame, longing—despite the passage of time? Why are you even more handsome now? Why did you leave without a word? Why did I give you so much power to break my heart?
“But hey, if I had known asking for a Coors Light would make you this upset, then I easily could have picked something else. A Heineken. A Corona. Which beer is best paired with the side of animosity you’re serving?” “Quit making fun of me.”
“Lavender Girl, please tell me you’re not going to run away? I just want to say hi.” I hold my hands out to my sides, my confidence bolstered by my buzz. “I’m Ledger.” Her lashes flutter as her eyes lift to meet mine. Thud. “Hi.” Then she smiles . . . and I’m a goddamn goner.
“I think it was easier for them to let me be heartbroken than to believe I wasn’t good enough.”
This is below my pay grade. So fucking below it my back aches trying to stoop to its level.
“I don’t want your pity.” “Pity?” I ask as she moves her hand to reveal the hundred-dollar bill I left her with my number on it. “Yes. I don’t need a ridiculous tip from you because you feel sorry for me.” My smile is slow and deliberate. “And here I thought you were pissed because I left my phone number on it. Whew.” I mock wipe my brow. “So that means you did want my phone number then? Good. At least I read that right.” Her glare is adorable. The flush to her cheeks. The defiance in her stance. “You’re not cute.” “People tend to tell me I’m more sexy or brooding over cute so yes, I agree
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“Then we’ll talk about how all I’ve thought about since seeing you the other night is how much I want to kiss you.” Her head jostles, her eyes widen, and her lips fall lax. Good. We’re on the same page. She feels whatever this is too. “If that doesn’t make you want to talk, I’m not sure what will,” I say. Her
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be going on and on. Especially when I’m here and you’re—” “Still in Cedar Falls?” She chuckles. “Don’t you dare hold out on me. I want to hear everything. Let me live vicariously through you. What about the men? Tell me all about them.” “You’d die. Finely tailored suits and dress shirts rolled up to the elbows.” “Forearm porn. Yummy.” “Definitely forearm porn. But it’s so much more than that. They’re educated and refined with a little bit of street thrown in. Ugh. Each one I meet is better than the next.”
“Adele,” Gran says and holds out her hand to him. Ledger’s gaze flickers my way and before he can answer with his unique name that I fear Gran will most definitely remember, Gran’s spitfire kicks back in. “And yours must be Handsome.” I have to give him credit because his expression of what the hell vanishes as quickly as it appears. “Okay. Sure.” He chuckles as he shakes her hand, his cheeks flushing. “It’s always better to keep a little mystery when courting.” She winks. “Good to know,” he murmurs. “This is my granddaughter, Asher. She’s single, you know. Ready to be courted.” “Gran,” I
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“There’s this girl,” he says. I immediately shake my head in response to Ledger Sharpe asking my grandmother for love advice about me. Because that’s what he’s about to do, isn’t he? The glance he gives me partnered with the sly smile is all I need to see to know I’m right. “What about her?” Gran asks. “We haven’t seen each other in a long time.” “Did you do something wrong to her? To hurt her?” Ledger hangs his head for a beat to look at where he’s playing with a checker piece. “The more time that passes, the less I know the answer to that question,” he murmurs before looking up and directly
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“This isn’t over, Asher. Not by a long shot. I’m not a patient man, but I’ve waited fifteen years to kiss you again . . . what’s a few more days?” A lifetime.
“My mom told me you might be brusque and rude.” I do a double take. “She did? Why’s that?” “She said you wear a suit, are from the city, and probably don’t have a personality worth talking to as a result of having the life sucked out of you from sitting behind the glass walls of a skyscraper all day.” I cough over my laugh. “But you’re talking to me, right?” “I am . . . but I haven’t decided if I like you yet.” “Good to know.” This kid is pretty spectacular. She’d fit in perfectly in Manhattan. “Apparently the clean air we have here, plus getting a little dirt on your shoes, will make you
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“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks as I step past her. “Excuse me?” “You know, a woman that comes over and then sneaks out about the time that school starts, and Mom tells me not to stare at her or ask why she’s not wearing any shoes.” “Jesus Christ.” “If I can’t say fuck, then you can’t say Jesus Christ.”
“Um, Tootie? Does your mom know where you are? Shouldn’t you be doing homework or something?” “First, homework is a thing of the past. Some brilliant person declared it to be busy work and decided to free us kids from its shackles.” She flashes a grin. “And second, Mom is inside on the phone telling all of her friends about you.” “Yay for no homework.” It’s all I can manage to say before Tootie continues. “She said you have a nice butt, but you seem a little uptight. That she wouldn’t mind kicking your tires—whatever that means.” But her ghost of a smile tells me she thinks she knows exactly
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“Is it true you’re here to fuck up our town?” Christ. I cough over my laugh. “Who told you that?” “Everybody who means nothing.” She shrugs and, somehow, I completely understand what she means. “It’s like adults can’t ever make up their minds. They want more jobs in town but complain when someone like you tries to make them. They want more people to visit but then complain when there’s traffic, or they have to wait too long for a table to eat at Bessie’s Diner. You adults are super confusing.” “We are, aren’t we?” “For sure.”
“Hey, Tootie?” I ask so that she stops and turns to look at me. “Do you know an Asher Wells?” Brilliant, Ledger. Ask an eight-year-old about her. “Why?” She narrows her eyes at me. “It’s a long story.” I give her a half-smile while feeling like an idiot. “I was just wondering if you did.” Tootie angles her head to the side as she thinks. “The purple lady?” “Lavender?” “Same thing.” She rolls her eyes. “Yep. I know her.”
Really, Ledger? You just asked a kid you barely know about a woman you want to know more. You do seriously need help.
“Why are we having this conversation again?” I groan. “Haven’t we talked about this ad nauseum?” “Then stop mind-fucking it and fuck him instead.”
She’s like that first hit of cocaine. One taste, and you’re addicted.
This time when she takes a step back to open the door and walk away, I let her go. She’s heard enough lies from a Sharpe man. The last thing she needs to hear is another one telling her she’s wrong.
That smoldering ache I had? Now it’s a raging wildfire of need.
“I guess you’re right.” I can feel his mouth curve into a smile against my shoulder. “About?” “It was definitely better the next time.” When he leans back to look at me, his grin is blinding.
“I do have to get to work, though.” “So is this the part where you kiss me goodbye?” “It’s a hard job, but somebody has to do it,” he murmurs seconds before his lips slant over mine. The kiss is the perfect amount of soft yet demanding. He’s definitely in control—of the angle, the intensity, the length—and he’s somehow perfect at all of them. When the kiss ends, he walks toward the door and then stops to look back at me. There is a lopsided smile on his lips. “This is the part where you start thinking about me all day.”
“So you’re really not going to ask about last night?” “Oh honey, you bet your ass I’m going to ask. I want all the details. His skill level. Your orgasm count. Size and shape are important details too.” She hooks her arm through mine as we enter the shop. “And every damn detail in between.”
“Yeah. Sleep with the woman. Skip some work to fuck off with her. Your lists can wait. Live a little outside of the office.” “I’m going now, Callahan.” “I bet you are.”
“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.”
“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.
“You can’t plan for love, Ledger. It’s either there, or it isn’t. And sometimes it isn’t there and then it grows into love.”
“I don’t want to let you go.” He chuckles as we fall into our routine. “You have to, though.” “On one condition.” I quirk an eyebrow at him, going for humor to mask my sadness. “What condition is that?” “That you promise me you’ll come back next year. That you promise me you won’t forget me.” My voice breaks on those last words. All I can think about is the rich, sophisticated, beautiful girls at his prep school back home. Ones who have moms and aren’t called sluts. Ones who would gladly enjoy Ledger’s kisses and attention just as much as I do. How can I compete with that? How will phone calls
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“I wished that I’d get a chance to make my mark somehow.” I’m just about to ask what she means when she continues, her voice barely audible. “That people will look at me and admire me, what I’ve done, what I’ve made of myself instead of looking at me and feeling sorry for me because I’m Lydia Wells’s, the town floozy’s, daughter.” Her voice breaks, and it fucking kills me. I’ll never understand how she feels because we’re polar opposites. Whereas she has pressure weighing on her because people expect nothing from her, I have it because they expect too damn much from me. We’re from completely
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“Does your mom know you’re here?” I ask as Tootie finishes her survey and helps herself to the seat Hillary vacated minutes ago. She takes a moment, making a show of wiggling her butt in the chair to feel out if it’s comfortable. The purse of her lips tells me she finds it suitable. “Yep. I told her I was going to come sweet-talk you into coming over for dinner, but don’t come. Ever. My mom burns toast like it’s an Olympic sport. I wouldn’t subject you to her cooking. Not even my enemy.” “Thanks for the warning.” “Anytime.”
“They say you have a woman.” “First lesson in life, Tootie. If you ever date a man who says he ‘has a woman’, dump him on the spot.” “Why?” “A man does not have you. You are your own person with your own thoughts. He can enjoy you and your company. He can want to spend time with you and laugh with you. At no point does he ever have you. Got it?” “I think you’re going a little deeper than is needed. Should I rephrase? I’ll rephrase.” She clears her throat and sits a little taller. “They, the people in town, say that you are enjoying the company of a woman.” Smart-ass.
“Are you going to explain to me why Mayor Grossman wants to screw you over?” I choke on my next breath. “Tootie.” “What?” she asks innocently enough. “Would you rather me say fu—” “Nope. Screw works. Screw is just fine.” Jesus. This kid.
“He’s not exactly in my fan club.” “You have a fan club? How did I not know this?” She sits up a little straighter. “Do you charge a membership fee? Have a paying Patreon club where you reveal extra tidbits? How. Did. I. Not. Know. This?” “It’s an expression, Tootie. A turn of phrase. It’s not a real thing.” She waves a hand at me. “And to think you got me all excited about nothing.”
“Why are you trying to help me, Tootie Tootie Bo Footie?” Her grin is ear to ear from the nickname. “Somebody has to because, in case you didn’t know, it’s a dog-eat-dog world out there, Ledger.” “Clearly.”
“In an effort to kill the mayor with kindness, Hillary and I,” I say, pointing to Hillary, “are working on upgrading your library at school.” “You are?” Her eyes widen. “We are. So I think you’re the perfect person to help us decide what exactly it needs.” “You mean like a reading couch and a moon pod and wobble chairs and another set of Harry Potter because it’s always checked out? That kind of stuff?” “Exactly that kind of stuff.” “A way to a woman’s heart is through her books. That’s for darn sure.” I just stare at her, blinking. There’s nothing else I can do.
“Do I have a budget, or do I get carte blanche?” Where does she come up with this shit?
“You know, if this thing with the woman you enjoy doesn’t pan out,” she says as she stops to pick up her sign and then looks over her shoulder at me, “I’m available to take her place in about twenty years. Later.” And with that, Tootie skips out of my office and down the hall. I meet Hillary’s eyes across the distance. “I want to be her when I grow up,” she says.
“He’s a man. He doesn’t notice details until you point them out one by one.”
It’s as though we picked up things from where we left them. The friendship. The ease of communication. The laughter. Everything is still there but just . . . so much more than before. Perhaps that’s the sex, but I don’t think so. It’s as though there aren’t the same restrictions as there used to be. No more father and grandparents interfering. No more me caring what others thought. No more me worrying about everything other than just us.
“Does that mean you’ll be here to help me pick up the pieces when he leaves?” I ask off-the-cuff but mean every word of it. “You know I will be.” She reaches out and squeezes my hand. “But something in me thinks instead of breaking you apart, he’ll have made you whole again.”
I know how bad it hurts to lose Ledger.
“Earth to Ledger,” Ford says. “He’s too busy picturing how he’s going to fuck her on the desk after everyone leaves.” Callahan laughs. “Fuck off. I’m going now.” I end the call to their dramatic protests and kissing sounds. Such assholes. Assholes, though, with a really good idea.
Asher. She makes me feel things. Want things.
My body aches from the memory. From the promise of more of him. Because it’s always momentary satisfaction when it comes to Ledger. There’s always a want for more. A need for more. A desire for one more taste or touch or kiss of his. He’s the best kind of addiction in the worst kind of way. One you want to have but fear the withdrawal from.
When she throws her head back and laughs, I know it’s a sound I could listen to forever.
I lie there in stunned silence for some time, sorting through my thoughts, my options, and how each one will devastate me in one way or another. And when Ledger’s breathing evens out and his soft snores fill the plane, I dare to look up at the only man I’ve ever loved romantically. A man who, for a small moment in time, I thought I had a future with. The man who publicly claimed me tonight, suggesting he was glad I chose him. And to think I believed it was all true. I’m going to let him go. I’ll enjoy the time we have left. I’ll love him within the confines of my heart alone. This time, I’ll
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“I’m sorry for interfering. I’m sorry for thinking I knew better than you did. I’m sorry for lying in order to make sure you didn’t make a mistake.” “It’s okay, Dad. Whatever you did, I’m sure it was with good intentions.” What in the hell is he talking about? “Thank you. I’m so sorry, Ledge. I just needed to say that to you.”
And when she starts to climax, I thread my fingers through her hair so she’s forced to lean back and look at me as she does. So I can watch what I do to her. So I can see the emotion in the depths of her eyes I think we both feel but haven’t spoken. So I can remember her forever, just like this. As mine. There is no greater pleasure for me than her. None.
