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.

  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?

  Whew. Just a little overdue birds and the bees, man-to-man chat that he’s clearly uncomfortable with.

  A little fucking late if you ask me, but it’s better than whatever else I thought was going to be handed to me tonight.

  Sex.

  Asher.

  Jesus.

  Just the thought of her gets me hard. Her soft sighs. How tight she was. How incredible it felt.

  And right or wrong, I’m having these thoughts standing in front of my father.

  “Son.” He motions to the chair for me to take a seat. I’d rather have this uncomfortable discussion standing, but no one disagrees with Maxton. No one but Callahan, but that’s a different story.

  “It’s late. I thought you were going out with Bunny—”

  “Barbara,” my dad corrects regarding a “friend” he has made during our stay here. Everyone wants to be your “friend” when you’re a multi-millionaire. Most will take whatever scraps you throw their way in the hopes of elevating their status as a result. “And my plans have changed.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “We need to have a little talk.”

  “I assumed,” I say sarcastically, but the sharp look he gives me tells me my snark probably isn’t a good idea.

  “That girl you’ve been seeing—”

  “Asher.”

  He nods. “It’s over between you two.”

  “What?” I laugh. Not the “you’re a grown man now and you can make your own decisions, but you need to make sure to use protection” spiel like I expected. “Good one.”

  “I said it’s over. You’re not to see her again.”

  What in the hell is he talking about?

  I look over my shoulder as if this is a joke and Ford and Callahan are hiding somewhere, ready to laugh. They’re not. “Dad . . . what are you talking about?”

  “I don’t like repeating myself. You heard me.”

  “I love her,” I blurt out. Clearly, by his reaction, that was the wrong thing to say.

  He rises from his chair and rounds his desk so that he’s standing in front of me. “You’re thinking with your dick, Ledger. Every good man does at some point, but this is the wrong time and the wrong person to do it with.”

  I shove up out of my chair. “You can’t tell me what to do,” I shout.

  His hands are fisted in my shirt in an instant, his face inches from mine. His voice is a cool, even tone when he speaks next. “You’ll do as I say. I will not have you disobey me on this.”

  “Fuck that.”

  “Fuck that?” he says, releasing my shirt and taking a step back, head shaking and a soft chuckle I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sound of rumbling in the silence. “That’s exactly what you did. You fucked that. And now because you chose to do so with someone . . . not of our status, her grandfather wants to press charges against you.”

  “Charges?” I spit the word. He’s so full of shit. “For what?”

  “Statutory rape.”

  All the air is sucked out of the room.

  “What?” I fumble over the single syllable. Blood drains from my face as I stand in utter confusion and horror. “What do you mean statutory rape?”

  “You’re eighteen, Ledge. She’s not. Pretty cut-and-dried.”

  My mind is too overwhelmed to think straight, to process that while he might have known Asher and I had sex tonight from my texts, how would Pop know? All I can hear is the word rape. All I can think about is how everything earlier with Asher that I thought was fucking perfect, is now a goddamn nightmare. “I don’t . . . I don’t understand.”

  “You’re a smart boy. Surely you do.”

  “But it wasn’t rape. She wanted it. She—”

  “Do you hear yourself? Do you know how horrible that single phrase—she wanted it—would sound to a judge? To a jury? Would look splashed across the front page of a newspaper?”

  “That’s not what I meant.” I pull my hands down on the back of my neck and try to think straight, but it’s not exactly easy. Rape? What happened tonight was not rape. It was far fucking from it, but truth be told, I’m scared out of my mind right now.

  Fucking terrified.

  “Dad. I swear. You have to believe me. That’s not what happened.”

  “It doesn’t matter if it is or if it isn’t. What matters is that Mr. Wells is threatening it.”

  My shuddered breath is the only sound in the room save for the whoosh of my pulse in my ears. “I’ll go talk to them. I’ll—”

  “What? You’ll make it right? That’s not how the world works, Ledger. Far fucking from it.”

  “This doesn’t make any sense.” My voice rises in pitch with each and every word. “Talk to Asher. She’ll tell you we made this decision together. That I didn’t force her into anything.”

  There’s no way she’d go along with this. Not a chance in hell she’d let this happen if she knew.

  “Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter what Asher says or feels or if it was mutual. All that matters is what her grandfather says. What he wants. What he threatened. The law is the law, son, and even a Sharpe and our money can’t get around it. Especially when we’re outsiders like we are here.”

  “But Pop knows me. He knows I’d never hurt Ash.”

  My dad walks in front of me and meets my eyes. “Sometimes people do crazy things to protect the ones they love, son.”

  I stare at him, my whole body vibrating with disbelief and fear. “Fuck it. I’m going over there right now.” I head for the door, but my father grabs my shoulder and yanks me back.

  “Don’t be a fucking idiot. That’s the last thing you should do.”

  “It’s the only thing I can do,” I shout at him.

  “Do you think I’m thrilled with this fucking situation?” he thunders in an unusual show of temper. One that only serves to reinforce how fucked I am. How fucked this situation is. “Do you think I want my son’s name thrown around in the same sentence as the words sex offender? Because that’s what you’d be. A sex offender. You’d have to register in every neighborhood you move to for the rest of your life. You have a kid someday who goes to school? Guess what? You won’t be allowed near the school to pick him up because, you guessed it, you’re a registered sex offender. This isn’t a fucking joke.”

  I shake my head back and forth to reject his words, but I can’t speak. I can’t do anything other than hear what he’s saying and be scared shitless. “I don’t understand,” I finally manage.

  “Exactly. You don’t understand. Not at all, because clearly you were thinking with your dick.”

  “Dad . . .”

  “We’re not nobodies, Ledger.” He throws his hands up, his strides eating up the room as he paces. “We’re a family with a flashy name and a pristine reputation, and I guarantee this would be picked up by the media in a heartbeat. Rich prep school kid. Penniless, vulnerable small-town girl. Throw the word ‘rape’ in there and the Internet will light itself on fire. Scandal sells papers, and you bet your ass this would be a scandal.”

  I sink into a chair, my face in my hands and my chest constricting more and more with each breath.

  Asher. What does she think about this? What is she saying right now?

  Oh. My. God.

  “This can’t be happening.”

  “Oh, it’s happening all right. This is what happens when you mix with people who aren’t like us. Who don’t live our life or understand—”

  “I have to talk to her. I have to—”

  “Like hell you will.” He picks up a paperweight off the desk, and I swear for a second, I think he’s going to throw it. But he just stands there, gripping it in his hand. “Do you have any clue where I’ve been for the last hour? I’ve been at their farm. Negotiating. Begging. Trying to prevent that grandfather of hers from pressing charges against you. Trying to fix what you fucked up.”

  I’m too overwhelmed to ask the questions I should ask. Why was he at the farm in the first place? Why was he even talking to Pop?

  Nothing makes sense other than the fear and confusion rioting inside of me.

  Pop knows me. Asher and I have been friends . . . more than friends, for three years. He knows I’d never do anything to hurt or disrespect her. I love her. He has to know that.

  And Asher. There’s no way Ash said that I rap—

  “We are leaving Cedar Falls tonight.”

  “No—I—”

  “You don’t get to have a say in this. Is that understood?” His voice is calmer now, but it’s cold as ice as I stare at him like a deer caught in the headlights. “We are leaving Cedar Falls tonight. You must never contact her again—in any way, shape, or form. Not a goodbye. Not an explanation. Not a fucking peep to her or anyone else about this—including your brothers.” My eyes flash up to his. The man who always preaches my brothers need to be my everything is now telling me to hide this from them? To lie to them? “If we do all of those things, Mr. Wells has agreed not to press charges.”

  I choke over a sob I don’t want to let out. My hands tremble, but I nod in agreement. What else can I do?

  “If at any point you break this agreement—your silence—in any way, he will move forward and contact the police.” He takes a long pull on the glass of Scotch in his hand before looking back at me. “And I mean ever. There is a ten-year statute of limitations so remember that. Pretend she never existed. Pretend this summer never happened.”

  My entire body trembles. All I can think about are the what-ifs. The how did this happen. The I can’t go to jail.

  Tears spring in my eyes as my whole body rejects everything he’s telling me.

  This can’t be happening.

  This. Can’t. Be. Happening.

  “Ledger. Son.” His voice gentles as he puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. I’m not sure if it’s the sudden affection when I’m so goddamn scared, or just all the emotion in the moment, but the first tear slides down my cheek.

  Sharpe men don’t cry.

  “Dad. I’m sorry.” The tear turns into a sob. I’m terrified. I’m overwhelmed. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t . . .”

  He squeezes my shoulder again, his face somber, his eyes laden with a disappointment I’ve never seen or felt before from him. “I fixed this, Ledger. I fixed this and, so long as you do everything I just told you to do, it’s over.”

  But it’s not.

  Asher.

  I love her.

  He picks up my cell phone I threw on the couch when I walked in and starts messing with something. I’m so distracted in my own thoughts, in my own disbelief, that I don’t think anything of it until he hands it back to me. “There. She’s been erased. Her texts. Her phone number has been blocked. Her emails erased.”

  “Dad?” I ask it like a question because there are so many things I want to ask—do you still love me? Is this really going to go away? But I didn’t do anything wrong.

  He puts a hand up to stop me from saying anything else before moving toward the door.

  “Get yourself together before you walk out of this room. You’re a man. A Sharpe. Stop crying and act like one. Get packed. The jet is fueled and ready on the tarmac. A car will be here for us in thirty minutes. I’ve had an emergency call regarding some business dealings and have to get back to the city.” He looks at me and nods to make sure I understand the story. The lie. The cover. “The matter is closed. The girl is dead to you and never to be brought up again.”

  When he walks out, I just stare after him in a daze.

  How is this happening?

  How will I ever make it right?

  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.”