Page 115 of On One Condition

Her words put fire on my temper in an instant. “Of course, she did,” I mutter, needing somewhere to direct my anger because it’s still there and it’s still raw, but not so much at Asher anymore. Now it’s at fucking everyone else in this goddamn town. Here I am thinking—stewing—raging over the fact that she’s hiding things from me—dejected that she didn’t think she could share them with me—and of course, it’s just her being stubborn as always and not needing anyone.

“It’s a solid business proposal. Well-thought-out. She did her research. I was impressed with it, with her, but more importantly, it’ll be a great option for our guests.”

“The proposal?” I ask, my hand out waiting for it. Hillary meets me with the lift of her brows. “Please.”

She reaches into her file drawer and hands it over to me. I flip through its pages, and Hillary is right. The proposal is professional, concise, informative, and it doesn’t hurt that the pictures look like everything she promises in the text. It’s the last page that cites the improvements still in the works that makes everything click.

The loan.

She needs the loan to finish these items.

Without the loan, she doesn’t have this. Fucking Grossman blasted that very clearly across the City Hall meeting.

The bastard.

Christ. I blow a sigh out and toss the proposal on the desk.

“Ledger.” Hillary’s smile is faint, and her eyes are soft when I look up to meet them. “Just because you love her—”

“I don’t love her,” I growl. Saying it in my head is one thing. Admitting it out loud is a whole other ballgame.

She chuckles. “Yes. You do. And that love doesn’t give you the right to rush in here like a white knight and save the day for her. She’s independent for a reason. Clearly, she’s been hurt by life in ways I don’t know—but I can see it, because I used to be her. Asserting my independence, needing something that was wholly my own, was a way to take a piece of myself back. It was how I healed. It’s what led me to be sitting right here in this office with you. Asher doesn’t need fixing, Ledger. She just needs someone to hold her hand if she fails, to celebrate her when she succeeds, and to listen when she speaks. There’s so much more said in silence than in a room full of people talking.”

I feel helpless. it’s a miserable feeling for a man who’s always in control.

“I don’t want to fix her, Hillary. I just want her to realize she’s not alone anymore.”

“Have you told her that? That might be a good place to start.”

I nod.

Telling Asher that she’s not alone anymore is a good start. Perhaps showing her too. But fuck, how do I do that if I can’t fucking find her? How can I reassure her that I’ve got her back? That she can trust in me?

“She’s independent for a reason. Asher doesn’t need fixing. She just needs someone to hold her hand if she fails, to celebrate her when she succeeds, and to listen when she speaks.”

Haven’t I been listening all this time? Isn’t that what I do best with her when we talk on the phone, lie in each other’s arms, have picnics—

Fuck, could she be there? At our place?

It’s the only place I haven’t checked.

One place, and I hope to fucking God I’m right.

The wildflowers are bright and the sound of birds is loud as I make my way through the underbrush to the old willow tree.

My chest constricts when I see her sitting there against its trunk, her head back with her face to the sky, her eyes closed.

And if I ever had any doubt before, I sure as hell don’t now.

I love Asher Wells.

I’m in love with Asher Wells.

Plain.

Simple.

Completely.