Page 55 of On One Condition

Asher

I know Ledger’s here.

In fact, he’s been wandering through the lavender fields, the moonlight as his guide, with a bottle of whatever in his hand as his solace.

If it weren’t for the headlights of his SUV cutting through the farmhouse windows over an hour ago, I never would have known he was out there.

But I stay where I am in the house, watching his shadow move through the night as I try to process the last few hours.

Try to forget the way his kiss tasted and how incredible his body made mine feel.

Try to figure out why I freaked out and walked away afterward.

Was Nita right about the hate fuck being a good way to get someone out of your system?

I thought it would be. The intensity and hunger in the act were welcome. What wasn’t was the onslaught of emotions that came after.

I was overwhelmed by them. I thought the carnality of sex wouldn’t open old wounds. I was wrong. But what scared me the most about being with him was how it made me . . . feel, when I haven’t felt in forever. It made me want when typically I’m fine with shutting down. It made me acknowledge that Ledger is like my own personal double-edged sword. He has the ability to devastate me and put me back together without even knowing it.

Asking for space was my knee-jerk reaction to the fear. It was my way of questioning if I could do this. If I could invite him back into my life at a time when my emotions have been stripped bare.

Vulnerability is something I hate to feel, hate to be, and yet, that’s all I’ve been left with lately with Gran’s move and Pop’s passing. I’ve been holding on by a thread, trying to find my place in this new life, with these new responsibilities.

So why would I willingly open myself up to more hurt? Why would I put myself in a position to become attached to someone who’s going to be gone in a few months?

Time. Space. Solitude. I thought those were things I wanted, what I needed, to make sense of all of this, but now that he’s outside wandering about, I realize how incredibly lonely I am.

This house, one that used to be filled with love, laughter, and warmth, is so silent . . . and empty. Every day without Pop gets harder. I yearn for the day when the pain will go away. I look forward to a time when the overwhelming feeling that I’ve yet to get a handle on The Fields dissipates. I pray for the day that the numbness will be gone.

Let me help you then. Let me be there for you. Let me . . . I don’t fucking know, but let me do something.

I’m too stubborn, too proud to take him up on that offer, but maybe it’s time to look at this situation from a different perspective.

I only have Ledger for two months. Maybe that’s exactly what I need. An end date before we have a beginning one. Parameters and controls that I can’t control but that I know going into this.

The question is, can I enjoy the time with him and shut off my emotions at the same time? Separate the two? Is it possible to revel in the pleasure instead of remembering or bracing for the pain?

I’m pretty sure that’s my only option.

Just as I’m topping off my glass of wine, the steps leading up to the veranda creak.

I’m at the door and opening it before he gets a chance to knock. We take each other in, the screen door the only thing between us.

He looks tired. Emotionally exhausted. And the bottle I thought he was drowning his sorrows in is almost completely full.

He holds said bottle up. “I thought I needed liquid courage to face you, but I realized I needed a clear head more. I hate not being in control. The feeling of it. The chaos of it. The inability to fix and guide as needed. And that’s how I feel right now.” He looks down and nods for a beat before looking back at me. “It would be so much easier to process my father’s lies if I had drunk myself into oblivion, but the things I need to say to you are far too important for me to fuck up.”

“Ledger.” I smile softly, hating the conflicting emotions owning his face. “I was wrong about what I said tonight. Earlier. I shouldn’t have dredged it all up—I was caught up in the emotion of the moment.” I realized things I had missed out on. You. “I don’t blame you. I just . . . I just think we should leave the events of that night be and focus our efforts on getting to know one another again, much like you suggested at Hank’s.”

He angles his head and holds my gaze. Can he see I’m trying to meet him in the middle? That I’m still confused, but like him, understand there is some invisible string binding us together still? That I’m willing to risk the pain of losing him again just so I can be with him now?

“Okay.” He nods, but his voice doesn’t sound very convincing. “But to do that, I need you to hear what happened that night on my end. I need you to understand how I was manipulated.”

I know what his father did to me. I sure hope he was gentler on his flesh and blood. “Please. Come in.”

He nods, follows me into the house, and before he even takes a seat, he starts talking. “I was wasting time before it was time to meet up with you. Made my presence known so that when he left for his date, he would think everything was normal. Later, I was summoned to his office, certain he’d found out about what we’d done. That we’d had sex. I was waiting for a gruff request to use protection and be sent on my way.” He looks down at his hands folded in his lap before meeting my eyes with a clarity that disarms me. “Instead, I was told Pop was threatening to press charges against me for statutory rape.”

My gasp is audible. “What?”