Page 71 of On One Condition

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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.”