Across the table, Ethan catches my eye and tilts his head—the universal Ethan Bedd gesture for you okay?
I consider the question and realize I am, in fact, okay. Better than. I raise my beer to him, smile, and drape an arm around Eva’s shoulders.
Eva’s hand finds mine under the table. She squeezes once—quick, certain—and then lets go so she can use both hands to shovel roast chicken and carrots onto her plate.
I catch my sister smiling at me, and I stick my tongue out at her, but my heart’s not in it and I laugh. And then I keep laughing until the sound is folded into the surrounding conversation in this cantankerous family who absorbed me and Eva alike.
The drive back through the trees is quiet, the sky bright with stars. Eva tucks herself against me, and I pull her close as we both grab the golf cart wheel to navigate around some tree roots.
“Hey, Asher?” Eva murmurs against my shoulder.
“Mm?”
“You’re going to be great at whatever comes next.”
I press my lips to the top of her head and breathe in the smell of sunshine and citrus and Eva. “I’m starting to believe you.”
23
Asher
One Month Later
The scream soaring toward me from the maple grove is high-pitched enough that I knock over my coffee.
I’m out of my office chair and through the back door before I fully register what I’m doing. My boots—hiking ones now, with sturdy ankle support—crunch on the frost-hardened ground as I move toward the sound.
“Eva?”
Another shriek, followed by laughter. “Asher! Asher, help!”
I find her at the base of a tree, splattered in… goop. Sap sprays from the tap she installed a little too deep into the trunk. It’s like a mini geyser making my fantasies come true. With her hands up over her face and her t-shirt wet and sticky, I’m finding it hard to focus on anything other than her body.
“I did it!” she yells, half-triumphant, half-panicked. “It’s working! But it’s working too much!”
Laughing, I reach her, grabbing the bucket that’s rolled away and positioning it under the tap. The flow slows to a manageable drip as the pressure equalizes.
“Are you supposed to tap trees on a warm day after it was freezing overnight?” I ask.
“Apparently not.” She wipes sap from her eyes, which only smears it across her cheek. “Diego warned me like fifteen times about the pressure. I just got excited.”
“Excited and sticky look good on you.”
“Shut up.” But she’s grinning, so happy it makes my chest hurt. “I’m halfway to being a syrup mogul.”
“I can see that. Want me to take a pic for you to put online?”
She lunges at me, wrapping her sap-covered arms around my neck before I can dodge. “Now you’re sticky, too. Solidarity.”
“You’re abominable.” I kiss her anyway, tasting sweetness and crisp air and Eva. My life has taken such a turn over the past month, from grouchy coding hermit to… slightly less grouchy coding boyfriend who leaves the house at least twice a week. I work for Trede now, thanks to Samuel’s friend Josh. The title of chief technology officer still terrifies me, but Josh said I can call myself whatever I want as long as I keep the website functional and promise not to add pop-up ads or auto-play music.
It’s a big change for me, having people to report to regularly, going to a building with an in-house cold plunge sauna. But I have Eva to come home to, and I love it. I love her. Staring at her now, sappy and happy, I feel almost brave enough to tell her so.
I didn’t notice it happening—the slow shift from existing to living, to falling in love. But somewhere between Eva’s chaotic arrival and now, everything changed.
My girlfriend timed her grand opening for Tapped Out to align with the strawberry harvest at Bedd Fellows Farm in early June. She’s cranking a steady stream of videos about the syrup operation and renovation, and absolutely nobody is surprised when it takes off like a storm surge. Of course, people are excited about Fork Lick. Eva’s bed-and-breakfast is booked solid. Every room, every maple experience slot, every Taste of Fork Lick companion package.
“I need a shower,” Eva announces, peeling off her sap-soaked clothes as we walk toward the house. “A long one. With very hot water. Possibly a chisel.”
