Page 72 of On One Condition

“I’m here.” I loved you too. Past tense. I’m not sure why that hits me so hard, but it does. “What else was on your list of questions? Oh. Yes. My love life.” His sigh is heavy in response. “You asked,” I warn.

“I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t have.” He chuckles.

“Don’t worry. There hasn’t been a lot or anyone meaningful, if that’s what you’re asking. A couple of seasonal visitors, a few local guys—but none of them lasted longer than a couple of months.”

“Is it bad if I say that makes me happy?”

“Are you saying you thought I slept around?” I tease.

“No. That’s not—I didn’t—”

“Relax, Ledger. I was just teasing you.”

“Talk about sticking my foot in my mouth. Jesus.” He snorts. “Why only a couple of months though? Is it because you’re picky or because you like the chase but not the after?”

It’s because none of them made me feel how you did.

“Maybe a little bit of both,” I lie. “First, it’s not exactly easy to date someone when you remember that he picked his boogers and wiped them on your desk in third grade.”

“Jesus,” he coughs out.

“Small-town life at its finest. And truth be told, I’m not exactly the easiest person to take home to Mom and Dad. I have no parents, and up until recently, I lived with my grandparents, and a lot of men can’t handle the fact that I have a mind of my own and freely speak it. They think it’s cute at first and then, after a month or two, try to tell me how things should be.”

“I think that’s one of your best qualities.”

I blush under his praise. “Enough about me.”

“No. You haven’t told me nearly enough.”

“You just don’t want to answer the same questions.”

“You’re happy though, right, Ash? I mean you could always go back to school if you wanted. You could get out of Cedar Falls somehow. Dreams don’t have time limits.”

“Do I always wonder, what if? Of course, I do. Anyone else would do the same. It’s like half of me would love to pursue what I once wanted, while the other half is completely content being right here where I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not.”

“I think you’re a lot of people, Asher Wells,” he says softly. “I’m pretty sure I like all of them.”

I smile and snuggle deeper into my bed, allowing his words to wrap themselves around me. “Your turn.”

He groans. “I guess I opened that door, huh?”

“You did.”

“Lay it on me.”

“How did you lose your father?”

He blows out a breath. “Hitting with the hard stuff first, huh?”

“It’s easier to get it out of the way. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No. It’s fine.” He pauses. “In a sense, I lost him the same way you lost your pop—in his sleep. But the root cause was Alzheimer’s.”

“I know for a fact that saying I’m sorry doesn’t ease any of the pain, but I am sorry you lost him, Ledger.”

“True, but thank you. Especially after everything he did to you . . . I don’t expect you to be sorry.”

“My feelings for him are irrelevant. I can still have compassion for you, your loss, and understand your grief.” I soften my tone. “Was it a long ordeal?”