“Hardly simple. There was a lot of fighting, a lot of yelling. I don’t know. I went through a lot of therapy as an adult to get my head right about it. But I’m happier now. I’m in a good place. How about you? How was high school without me?”
His voice was quiet when he responded. “I wish we’d had a chance to say goodbye. I missed you.” He placed his broad, callused hand on mine briefly, and heat rocketed up my arm.
I forced myself not to panic and pull away, to keep my breathing steady and even. Instead of pulling away, I nodded. “I missed you, too. But my parents didn’t really give me that opportunity. They whisked me away one Saturday and that was that. They were worried that if I kept up with any of my friends here, it would ruin any hope of progress I had there.”
“I guess I get that. Well, I managed high school without you. I graduated and took odd jobs, like I said. I was pretty aimless until I got the carpentry gig. That was about fifteen years ago now.”
I grabbed my beer and took a sip, breaking the touch. My heart was practically in my throat. As we talked, casual touches became more and more common. I bumped against him with my shoulder at one point as we laughed. When our team scored a run, he lightly slapped my back with one hand before jumping to his feet and whooping out a cheer. When we finished our beers, I handed my empty can to him and our fingers brushed. Every single time we touched, my heart raced and my mouth went dry.
He’s straight, I repeated to myself over and over, like an oath.He’s straight. Besides, youjustgot out of a relationship. You don’t need a rebound.
Regardless of the touches and the way my body was reacting, our friendship rekindled quickly. It wasn’t long until it felt like we’d been best friends the whole time, like we’d never missed a beat, much less twenty years.
The teams both played excellently, and eventually, we watched the Guardians break the tie to score the winning run, clinching victory. We high-fived, laughing and cheering as our runner rounded the bases and made it home. I was warm inside, comforted. I knew coming back to Port Grandlin would feel like a reunion of sorts, but I hadn’t expected to see Asher, and I hadn’t expected seeing Asher to feel like coming home.
Chapter 5 - Asher
Ileft the baseball game feeling lighter than I had in ages. Micah and I had reconnected in a way I hadn’t expected. I hadn’t realized how much I missed having him in my life until he was back. The day following the game, about a week before production started, he invited me to hang out after dinner.
Micah: Hey, do you want to come by? Kieran and I are watching old reno shows to get a feel for what we want to do differently. You’re welcome to join us.
I was touched that he’d invited me. I didn’t know that it would be great research for me—not in that way, anyway—but I wanted to take advantage of the offer to spend more time with him, too.
Asher: Address?
He responded quickly, and I was relieved to see it was close by.
Asher: Be there in ten.
I slipped on my sneakers and headed out to my truck before making my way across town to the house Micah was sharing with the interior designer, Kieran, for the duration of filming. Ifound myself feeling strangely anxious as I walked up the front steps and knocked on their door.
“Come in,” a voice called. “It’s unlocked.”
I tentatively grabbed the knob and pushed the door open. A guy—Kieran, presumably—was sitting on the couch, his socked feet propped against the coffee table, a bottle of beer in one hand.
He leaned forward when I came in. “Asher?” When I nodded, he turned to yell down the hallway. “Micah, your date is here.”
Heat burned on my face. Had Micah called this a date?Wasit a date?
“Fuck you, too, Kier,” Micah’s voice shouted back from the end of the hallway.
“You know you love me.”
Micah came down the hallway then, stopping when he spotted me. “Sorry about him. He’s feral.”
I shrugged and shook my head. “It’s fine. He’s no worse than Jackson.”
Kieran perked up, eyebrows raised. “Jackson?”
“Down, boy,” Micah muttered. “Can I get you anything? Beer? Wine?”
“A beer would be great.”
Micah nodded. “Be right back. Kieran,behave.” He shot a glare at his friend who just chuckled and shrugged.
Uncertainly, I sat on the far end of the couch from Kieran. I didn’t want to take a seat that was claimed or anything, but I didn’t want to stand there awkwardly waiting for Micah to bring me a drink, either. I put my hands in my lap and fidgeted with my fingers a little.
“So, you’re a carpenter?” Kieran prompted.
