Page 74 of On One Condition

“Yes, you did.” He laughs.

“Tell me more about your meeting,” I say.

And so we talk like the years have evaporated.

There is an ease to our conversation.

A comfort that is hard to find.

And yes, I fell asleep first.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Asher

Sixteen Years Ago

“Ledger?” His shoes crush the dead leaves on the ground as he makes his way into the clearing. I’m on my feet the second I see the angry red mark on his cheek. “Oh my God. What happened?”

He shrugs his arm out of my grasp and walks to the creek’s edge. Hands on his hips, shoulders moving up and down with his anger-fueled breaths.

I wince at his rebuff, uncertain what to do or what to say. Clearly, he’s pissed off. Obviously, he got in some kind of fight—or at least was punched.

I’m not exactly good at dealing with bruised egos.

“Did you get in a fight with one of your brothers?” I finally ask.

“No.” He bites the word out, and I retreat a step.

“Are you okay?”

Another sharp, “No.”

I shift on my feet. I twist my lips. I figure it’s best to just leave him alone. Obviously, something happened and, as much as I want to know what, I don’t deserve to be snapped at for asking.

What wisdom would Gran give me right now? Give him space? Leave him alone? Feelings take time to verbalize?

I decide to wait him out, so I take a seat at the base of the old willow tree and lean against the trunk.

It’s our spot.

He can’t be mad at me when I’m sitting in our spot, right?

“Is this what you deal with here? In your own town?” he asks and then turns to face me, his eyes alive with anger.

“What did you do?” I ask, dread filling my stomach.

“I broke some fucking guy’s nose is what I did.”

“You what? Ledger.” I struggle to find words. “What do you mean you broke someone’s nose? Who was it?”

“Some prick talking absolute shit about you.”

“What did he say?” I whisper and take a deep breath as I brace for an answer that I guarantee I’ve heard different variations of during the sixteen years I’ve been on this earth.

His stare is unrelenting, and his clenched jaw only serves to highlight the red on his cheek.

I can’t look at him. I don’t want to meet his eyes and see that he looks at me differently now that he’s heard the shit said about me.