We all nod, the tension thick but tempered by cautious hope.
Grace leans in close to Asher.“You need to wake up now, okay?” She takes his headphones off and lifts her guitar. I recognize the song, Fast Car.
She closes her eyes and begins to sing, her voice trembling but full of feeling. I watch her hands on the strings, her posture tight with hope. It’s one of his favorite songs, Asher taught Grace to play guitar when she was ten, this was the first song he taught her. The room fills with music, memories, and longing.
Grace finishes the last chord. There’s a pause…fragile, silent.
Then Silvia gasps.
I look to Asher. His eyelids flutter. Slowly, he blinks. Then again. His chest rises in a shaky breath.
At that moment, the door opens. Leona strides in holding flowers.“Asher!” she cries when she sees he’s awake, shoving Grace gently aside and wrapping her arms around him.“You scared me so much!”
He stiffens slightly in her hold. His eyes flick past Leona, landing on Grace.
“Leona…” he rasps, voice weak but audible.
“It’s okay,” she whispers, pressing her cheek to his.“You’re awake. You’re safe.”
Silvia calls the nurses.
I kneel at the bedside, gripping his hand gently.“Hey bro. You’re okay. You’re safe now.”
Grace doesn’t move from the edge of the bed.
I let out a long breath, a heavy weight sliding off my shoulders. He’s back. He’s alive. He’s safe.
CHAPTER 21
Summer
The cold bites at my cheeks the second we step outside, but Ethan’s presence is warm enough to make winter feel like an afterthought. He walked to the ranch from his house, and because of his injury I’m driving tonight. He’s wearing a dark green beanie that frames his handsome face perfectly and a gray-blue knit sweater that makes his eyes look even more unfairly beautiful.
His hand settles on the small of my back as we walk toward my truck, and the barely-there pressure sends a shiver racing down my spine.
He opens my door with his good arm, jaw flexing slightly with the effort, but he still manages that lazy, devastating smile.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say, shaking my head.
“I’m a southern gentleman. Injury or not.”
I slide in behind the wheel, heart pounding, and he leans down just a little, eyes softening.
“You look incredible tonight, Summer. Red dress, red lips… gorgeous.”
A beat.
“Been tryin’not to stare so hard I forget how to speak.”
Heat pools low in my stomach.
He shuts the door gently and circles around to the passenger side. When he gets in, the cabin fills with the scent of the pine air freshener and the warm, clean scent of Ethan.
As we pull out of the ranch driveway, he rests his hand on my thigh.
My breath stutters.
He doesn’t squeeze. Doesn’t push. Just rests it there, thumb stroking tiny, absentminded circles. Like touching me is instinctive, as natural as breathing.
