Page 51 of On One Condition

“This is about me sticking to a promise I made myself, Ledger. To never put myself in a situation to be hurt again. I’ve had a shitty couple of months. They’ve almost broken me. I need to figure out how this—you being here, this happening tonight—all fits in. How you fit into it. I won’t let you be the straw that breaks me again.”

“Let me help you then. Let me be there for you. Let me . . . I don’t fucking know, but let me do something.” Exasperated and feeling desperate to what I feel is slowly slipping through my fingers, I run a hand through my hair and pace the small space, as uncertain about what to do as I am about how I feel.

What is it that you do want here, Ledger? More sex? To resolve the past? To get to know her again? Because you sure as shit don’t know a thing about relationships.

But this isn’t a relationship. It was sex in a bathroom. It’s old feelings and a walk down memory lane. It’s a connection between us that feels like it was never broken despite the lies told.

But when I meet her gaze, I know the answer is all of the above and something more that I can’t express.

Maybe I want to wipe the sorrow from her eyes.

Maybe I want to hear her laugh more.

Maybe I want to know the woman she’s become better.

That much I know is true.

“I don’t need your help, Ledger. I can manage on my own. I have managed on my own.”

“So that’s it, then? Some bathroom counter sex and a thanks for the good time? There’s more to this than that. I know you see it. I know you feel it.”

She nods, her voice a whisper when she speaks. “You’re right. I do. But you’re here for now. You’ll be gone in two months. And I know for a fact that you’re not an easy man to get over.”

This time when she takes a step back to open the door and walk away, I let her go.

She’s heard enough lies from a Sharpe man. The last thing she needs to hear is another one telling her she’s wrong.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Ledger

Fifteen Years Ago

A quiet Maxton Sharpe is never a good thing.

Never.

Anyone who works closely with him or lives with him knows this to be fact.

So when I walk into the office in the estate we rented for the summer, perched above the town of Cedar Falls, and see him sitting behind his desk with his hands steepled in front of him, I know I’m fucked.

I run the day through my head. The joyride to Billings with my brothers. Raising hell at the Farmers Market with some of the locals we’ve made friends with. Hanging down by the creek with Asher.

Having sex with Asher.

Asher.

Does he know I was going to sneak out later and meet up with her? But how?

Earlier.

I got out of the shower and he handed me my phone. Said I’d left it downstairs on the kitchen counter. I didn’t remember doing that but didn’t have a reason to question it or him.

Is that how he knows? Did he read our texts? Did he fucking snoop on us?

Oh, Jesus. I know what this is about.

He’s going to have the sex talk with me, isn’t he?