Page 56 of On One Condition

He looks like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders as he nods solemnly. “My father told me that Pop would press charges unless I left town and never saw or spoke to you again. If I broke any of the conditions he laid out, he’d act.”

“That never happened. Pop never said an ill word about you. I . . . oh my God.” My thoughts spiral as I picture an eighteen-year-old Ledger and the fear those words must have evoked. The panic. The shock. My voice is soft when I speak, when I realize the betrayal he must be feeling right now. “He lied to you.”

“Apparently he was so good at it that he lied to both of us.” He chuckles but all I hear is the heartache woven in its chords.

“So you lived in fear,” I finally say after I take a minute to let everything sink in.

He nods, and his voice is hushed. “Every time you’d message me or text me . . . it fucking killed me to not respond. I knew the heartache you were going through because I was experiencing it too, but the fear outweighed everything. For the first couple of years, each time my phone would ring with a weird area code or I’d hear an unexpected knock on the door—I worried that Pop had gotten angry and filed charges anyway.”

“I’m so sorry, Ledger.”

“You see these trust-fund kids all over the news when they screw up. Kids like I was with privilege and wealth. They’re either made an example of or are an exception to the rule and then vilified on social media. I was too terrified to take that risk. It was a constant battle between self-preservation and the hurt I caused you in simply falling off the face of the earth.”

“I would have done the same thing if I were in your shoes. Reacted the same way.” I move to sit beside him. To lace my fingers through his and squeeze them in reassurance. “We did nothing wrong that night, Ledger. You did nothing wrong.”

“I know that now . . . but back then the world was smaller and my freedom no longer felt like it was a given.” He shrugs.

“We were young and were supposed to trust the adults.”

“That’s just it though. I did trust the adult. I trusted the one person that I’ve lived my whole life looking up to and idolizing, my father. And after what you told me at Connor’s, after realizing everything he said to me was a lie too . . . I’m struggling with who I am as a man. With how I never questioned him. With how I followed so blindly.”

“Anyone would have in that situation. Look at me. I basically did the same thing.”

He hangs his head and nods, but I can tell my pacification doesn’t make him feel any better. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and twists his hands together. There’s more on his mind. I can sense it in the soft sigh he emits and the tension straining his shoulders.

“I owe you an apology,” he says so quietly, I can barely hear him. “I’ve avoided the subject of Pop in general with you because of . . . all this, and how it made me feel. I was wrong to do that. He was your world. Your rock. I know what it feels like to lose that one person in your life who is that to you.” He looks over at me and offers a slight smile. “I, at least, had brothers to help with the grief. You don’t have that. I should have asked how you were doing with it earlier. I should have been a bigger man and offered condolences. I wasn’t.”

“Thank you.” I press a kiss to his shoulder and squeeze my eyes shut to fight the tears that threaten. I had no idea how badly I needed to hear that. To have someone else who understands. To know someone has walked in similar shoes and can commiserate. To feel someone’s compassion.

As heavy as the moment is, somehow Ledger’s comments make me feel lighter.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Ash. I’ve spent the better part of the last few hours nostalgic and wondering what could have been. We were kids. We could have fizzled out when we went to college. We could have made it work and made memories together. I don’t know, and it pisses me off that he stole those opportunities from us. What I do know is that I’m a different person than I was then. Just as you are. But it should have been our choice. Our decision. Not someone else’s.”

“I know,” I murmur and rest my hand on his arm. This is the man I thought he’d become. Not the flashy elitist he was when he first entered town. But this man sitting beside me with a heart of gold. “You were the first boy, the first person, really, who looked at me without the shadow of my mother’s reputation staining me. You showed me that it didn’t matter who she was, it only mattered who I was. I think that’s why it hurt so bad. You knew me for me. He judged me for her.”

“This is where I ask that you do the same for me. I’m not my father, Asher.” His voice breaks on the word father, and I can only imagine how deceived he feels right now.

“I know you’re not.” I press a kiss to his shoulder and murmur, “I’m sorry about what your dad did. If I weren’t involved in the situation, maybe I could justify his actions by saying that someday when either of us has kids, maybe we’ll understand why he did what he did. But I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t hate him for taking those what-ifs from us.”

“I know.”

We sit in the comfortable silence, in a house that feels a little less lonely right now, both coming to terms with these new truths, each in our own way.

“Well, hell. That was a lot more than either of us bargained for on a Friday night, don’t you think?” I say, desperate to lighten the mood and the profound sense of loss that this heart-to-heart has left me with.

I don’t know for sure, but from what I see, all of the wealth and power hasn’t changed the Ledger Sharpe I once knew.

“You can say that again.” Ledger presses a kiss to the top of my head that kind of melts me a little. “But at least it’s all on the table.”

“It is,” I murmur and, when I turn to face him, a startled breath falls from my lips at the proximity of his. “Would you like some wine? Some of whatever you have there in your bottle? I can go get some glasses.”

I scoot off the couch in a flurry of motion. The urge to kiss him is real, but so is my sudden bout of nerves, which is absolutely ridiculous considering hours ago we screwed in a bar bathroom.

“Yes. Sure.” His footsteps sound behind me and then stop, the weight of his stare heavy. “A glass would be great.”

I open and close my cupboards like a madwoman who doesn’t know where her own glasses are in her kitchen.

I open the wrong drawer for a corkscrew. Slam it shut only to have the wooden spoon flip up and prevent it from closing.