Because I’m not sure if love is enough to conquer the obstacles we face.

  And without another word or meeting my eyes, Ledger Sharpe walks out of the clearing and, I fear, out of my life.

  Ledger

  “You did it, Ledge. The Retreat can officially open next month,” Callahan says. “I don’t know how you won that fucker Grossman over, but you did.”

  “Congrats, man,” Ford says. “See? You were the right man for the job after all.”

  “If you come home in a pair of cowboy boots or Wranglers, though, be prepared for me to never stop giving you shit.” Callahan’s laugh bellows through the speaker.

  “Me? In cowboy boots?” I snort and then sigh. Hearing my brothers’ voices should make me happy rather than have emotion lodge in my throat. I clear my throat to try and get rid of it, but it remains.

  “But why are you still there? Wasn’t your plan to get in, get it done, and get the hell out of there?” Ford asks. “We were both surprised you weren’t jonesing so bad to get back that you didn’t fly home to tell us the good news, face-to-face.”

  “Nah. I’ve got some loose ends to tie up here.” Asher’s face flashes in my mind, followed by a pang in my chest. “Just a few things.”

  “That’s code for one last hop in the sack with Asher,” Callahan says.

  “Funny,” I mutter, the words affecting me more than they’ll ever know. “Look, I have to meet with Hillary on something.”

  “Sure you do.” Ford laughs.

  “I said I have to go,” I snap.

  “Whoa. Down, boy,” Callahan says. “You sure everything is good, Ledge?”

  “Fine. Fucking perfect.” And I end the call before they can say another word.

  I lean back in my chair at my desk, close my eyes, and blow out a slow exhale.

  She ran.

  Isn’t that what’s eating at me? I offered to give us time when I fucking don’t need it. But I offered it because she looked like a scared fucking rabbit . . . and she ran.

  And the only reason I know is that I stopped by The Fields today to see if we could talk. To see if I could fix whatever needs fixing.

  Asher doesn’t need fixing, Ledger.

  I replay the scene from earlier in my head.

  The empty echo of the house as I knocked on the door.

  The flutter of panic when it didn’t open. When no one answered.

  “She’s not home.” George’s words behind me making me jump.

  “Where is she?”

  “She took off. Packed a bag, asked me to take care of the place, and left.”

  “Did she say for how long?”

  “Nope.”

  “Did she say anything else?”

  “Just that if this place can ever get up and running”—he points toward the barn area—“then she’d love to hire on my wife to help run some of the events.” I must give him an odd look because he continues without my prompting. “She’s afraid she’s going to lose her job because of The Retreat.”

  “The Retreat? Why?”

  He shrugs as he sizes me up, clearly still uncertain what to think of me. “It’s a big operation. The assumption is tourists will jump ship from her hotel to yours.”

  “At the height of the tourist months, there will be plenty of business for both hotels.”

  He gives a measured nod. “It’s the non-height months that put people out of jobs.”

  I’m used to facing people, to dealing with the repercussions of the decisions I make. This one doesn’t sit well with me, and there is no quick fix. “Let’s see what happens. Asher always has my number if need be.”

  “That’s generous of you, but we don’t expect any handouts or hand-ups.”

  Our eyes meet, and pride wars against concern in his eyes. “Understood. The offer is there.”

  “Noted.”

  I look back to the house and the porch swing that looks so empty without her curled up on it. “You helped Asher out with the changes here. It looks incredible.”

  “It does.”

  He’s not going to give me a fucking inch, is he?

  “I think it’s a smart business decision on her part. It’ll give an added income stream. Give this place a new life to people who would have never noticed it before.”

  “Is there a reason you’re on her porch, talking about her business with me . . . sir?”

  Definitely not an inch.

  I clear my throat and level with him. “Why did she leave, George? Run? Why not stay and fight for this place?” For me?

  “Who said she wasn’t fighting?”

  “She’s not here, is she?” I ask.

  “That girl has fought her whole life. The scorn and judgment she’s faced in this town is enough to break most people. It never broke her.”

  “I know, but—”

  “No, you don’t. With all due respect, you don’t know shit about what it was like for Asher year after year. And yes, she’s worked tirelessly to not live under the shadow of her mother’s disgrace and abandonment.” He looks out toward the fields as the lavender ripples like a wave. “She’s building something here. With her grit and her tenacity and her courage. Would it make Pop proud? Damn straight. But it also made her proud of herself for the first time in a long time . . . and when something you’re hoping for falls through, sometimes it takes time to accept that blow. To figure out how to live without it.”

  “So what are you saying? That she’s coming back?” I’m more desperate for that answer than anything—so it takes me a second to hear him. It’s not just the dream she’s created here she’s afraid of losing . . . it’s me too.

  Jesus Christ.

  She can’t be figuring out how to live without it.

  Goddammit, Asher. I’m here. I’m waiting. Come back.

  “Of course, she’s coming back.” He snorts in disdain at me. “Asher Wells isn’t a quitter. My guess is she’s looking for another way to make this happen. She’s taking time to accept the reality she was handed and move forward.”

  Accept reality and move forward. Have I done that? Have I moved on from what my dad did?

  And long after George has explained the reasoning to me and took off for home, I’m still sitting on the porch swing, listening to it creak. Trying to work through the question.

  My father fabricated a lie that has affected me in some way or another for the past fifteen years. My fear of letting him down. My fear of not living up to the potential he gave me by “saving me” that night with his lie. I’ve moved goalpost after fucking goalpost to make him happy. To make him proud of me. To live up to the Maxton Sharpe standard . . . and for what? To put off my happiness in the hopes of achieving his approval? To almost lose the woman I love for a second time?

  Dad is gone, Ledger. Isn’t it time you abandon his goals and create ones that make you happy? Isn’t it time to no longer be in and under his shadow?

  “My gran is here, Ledger. So is The Fields. It’s my family legacy much like S.I.N. is yours. I can’t leave it behind just as I’d never ask you to leave yours behind. This is how I make my mark. For me. You’re wealthy and revered in business, and no doubt believe you’re more important than I am because you basically own the world . . .”

  How could I ever ask her to give up her goals? How do we make this work so we can both live out the dreams we have individually and the new ones we want to create together?

  Fuck.

  Just . . . fuck.

  She doesn’t think it’s possible. That I’m capable of it.

  I told her I loved her.

  And she left anyway.

  Asher

  “It’s been over a week. You’re taking this whole ‘drive to clear your head and talk to no one’ thing to a whole new level this time, aren’t you?” Nita asks.

  I smile and sink back into my chair on the balcony of my hotel room. Glacier National Park is in the distance and it’s mesmerizing. And believe me, I’ve been staring at it a lot over the past week. “You know me,” I tease.

  “What’s going on with you? He hurt you, didn’t he? Am I going to have to go over and kick his ass?”

  “No. It’s not him.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “It’s me.”

  “Girl, you need to give me more than that.”

  “It’s hard to explain. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted, Nita. He’s kind and loving and thoughtful. But maybe he’s always lived as a figment of my imagination—my what-if—and now that he’s a reality, it’s messed me up.”

  “You know I love you, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So when I tell you that you’re batshit crazy and you need to get the guy, you’ll still love me, right?”

  I laugh and then fall silent.

  “Asher?”

  “I still love you. I promise.”

  “Whew. So you’re driving to clear your head. Do you have answers yet?”

  “No. Yes. A few.”

  “Well, at least it’s a start.”

  Ledger

  I toy with the corners of the paper. The Fields logo is emblazoned across the top of the lavender-colored paper, but it’s the short note scrawled in Asher’s penmanship and the second piece of paper in my other hand that I can’t stop staring at.

  Ledger,

  You asked for no more deception. No more lying by omission. Enclosed is what I found while cleaning out Pop’s things. I didn’t tell you originally because I didn’t want to hurt you further, and the past can’t be undone . . . but you deserve to know. I’m sorry.

  -Asher

  I drop the stationery and focus on the check. On my father’s unmistakable penmanship. In his attempt to buy off her grandfather to keep Asher away from me.

  To be unscrupulous in business is one thing.

  To be it when it comes to your own children is unforgivable.

  Even knowing now that he apologized to me for this, for his actions, does nothing to lessen the sting seeing this causes.

  My idol.

  My biggest example of who not to be.

  I’m not certain how long I stare at the check, but when my phone rings and Ford is on the other end of the line, everything—Asher leaving, my dad’s actions, the wrongs that can never be righted—hits me harder than ever.

  I almost don’t answer. But I do. “Hey.”

  “What’s wrong?” Two words are all Ford needs to say to have me closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

  “Nothing. Why?” I lie.

  “You’re full of shit. Callahan’s here too.”

  “Hey,” Callahan says. “Something’s wrong. We can both feel it.” Goddamn triplet voodoo. “What are you not telling us, Ledge?”

  I stare at the check and question myself and my previous decision not to tell them about Dad. About his deception. About his lies.

  And even now, I stand by it. We’re all finally healing. All coming out of the darkness we each fell into when he died. I still can’t bring myself to ruin the image they have of him in their eyes.

  If there’s one thing my father taught me that I’ll still choose to hold on to, it’s to bear the brunt of a burden for the good of everyone else.

  I just hope Asher lets me do the same for her.

  Asher.

  God, I fucking miss her.

  “Ledge?” Callahan asks.

  “She left.” The dam of silence breaks and it feels so fucking good to tell someone. “She left, and I don’t know what the fuck to do.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?” Ford asks. “It being a fling and all?” His tone mocks me.

  “Do you think we believed for a goddamn second the two of you were a fling?” Callahan asks. “You made puppy-dog eyes at her all night. Not once did you take your eyes off her to look at Cindy Dempsey’s cleavage—and believe me, it was so noticeably displayed that Sutton couldn’t keep her eyes off it.”

  I smile. And it feels fucking good to for the first time all week. Callahan and I may have had our differences in the past, but it’s weird for us to have switched roles for the moment. For him to be the one trying to take care of me.

  “Shit. You’ve got it bad, don’t you?” Ford asks.

  “I told her I loved her . . . and she left anyway,” I murmur.

  “Then what the fuck are you doing sitting in your office?” Callahan shouts. “Find her. Fight for her. Make her an offer she can’t refuse.”

  I snort at the notion . . . and yet, isn’t that what I want? Her? Forever? As mine?

  “Fuck.” I sigh the word out and both brothers laugh.

  “Ding. Ding. Ding,” Ford says. “I do believe the light bulb just went off. You owe me one hundred, Cal.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask.

  “We bet on how long it would be before you asked her to marry you. He said three months. I said one.”

  “Jesus,” I mutter, but my smile only grows wider as hope begins to swell in my chest from an idea that’s slowly forming. “You two . . .”

  “Please know that it’s taking everything I have to bite my tongue right now and not razz the fucking shit out of you over this,” Callahan says as I chuckle. “I’m showing you mercy, brother, but it’s coming. There’s no way Mr. I’m-Not-Falling-in-Love falls in love and gets away with it scot-free from us.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  “Hey, Ledge?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Go get your lavender girl. You’ve waited fifteen years. I don’t think you should waste another minute,” Ford says. Or Callahan. I’m not sure which one, but it doesn’t fucking matter.

  I already have more important things on my mind.

  Asher

  “Asher?”

  “Yes. Hi,” I say, even though I already know from Caller ID that it’s Hillary.

  “Hillary here.”

  Dread drops into my stomach. Does she know I haven’t secured the loan yet? That I can’t fulfill my promises? Certainly the town rumor mill has already filled her in. “Hi. How are you?”

  “Good. Great. Look, I have a prospective client coming into town in an hour. They’re a huge client of S.I.N. resorts. He’s extremely interested in seeing The Fields because he’s looking for a spot to hold quarterly meetings and the like. Is it possible for you to show him around?”

  “Um. Yeah. But I’m not in town—”

  “When can you get into town? What time? I only have him here for the day, and he really wants to meet with you and see if it’s a good fit.”

  “But not everything’s done yet,” I say, my thoughts scrambled as I glance at the clock. It’s four in the afternoon. Tonight? What the hell?

  “That’s okay. I explained that to him and he’s fine with it. Where are you? What time can you get here? Seven p.m.? Eight p.m.? Eight might be best so the lights can be on and the whole mood can be set.”

  “Eight.” I make a split-second decision. “Eight is fine. I’ll call George and have him get everything we have set up so it looks perfect when he gets there.”

  “Good. Thank you for doing this. I know it’s last minute.”

  “No, thank you.”

  I’m on an adrenaline high when I hang up. Funny how I’d already packed my bags given the decision I’d made earlier today.

  It’s time.

  It’s time to go home.

  Asher

  Traffic.

  Who would have thought I’d encounter traffic on the way home? But sure enough, I did. I’m going twice the speed limit down the road leading to my house. Luckily no one is on it because it’s ten minutes till eight, and the last thing I want to do is screw this up and be late.

  When I turn the corner and The Fields comes into view, it takes me a second to believe it’s mine. The lights illuminating the trees. The spotlights on the barn. The dark silhouette of the hill behind it.

  It’s mine.

  Pride like I’ve never felt before fills me.

  I’ll find a way to make this work. It’s the only option.

  But when I go to turn down the driveway, there’s asphalt. And not just a road patch onto the gravel driveway, but the entire driveway is paved.

  How did George get this done?

  I know we’d talked about it, but that was when I thought I was getting the loan.

  Shit. I can’t afford this. Not the driveway or the whole section to the left that’s a mini-parking lot with a lone car parked in it. Oh my God.

  Oh.

  My.

  God.

  How am I going to pay for this?

  I pull up to the house and screech to a stop. I have to find George. I have to ask him why he did this, I have to . . . can they just un-pave it and take it all back?

  I hustle down the pathway toward the barn and pasture. There are paving stones here too. Slabs of rock cemented down on the path.

  It’s exactly like I wanted on the quotes I showed George, but I never told him to pull the trigger. Never.

  Tears of sheer panic threaten as I move through the darkening night. I need to shove this away. I need to calm down. I can’t come off like a crazy lunatic when I meet this possible repeat client.

  Just when I hit the clearing, I start to hear music. And not just music, but what sounds like stringed instruments. It’s soothing, and I know the tune but not the name.

  It’s not until I turn the corner of the barn and come face-to-face with Ledger does everything hit me.

  He’s standing beneath the big oak tree, a soft smile on his lips, the lights above highlighting his hair.

  “Ledger?” I look around to see where Hillary is but only jump when I see the barn completely furnished with tables and chairs and— “Where’s Hillary?”

  “There is no Hillary,” he says as he moves toward me.

  “But I’m supposed to—”

  “You’re supposed to meet me. Here. In the setting you created. In the place we originally fell in love, then and now.”

  “What did you do, Ledger?” I start to take a step back, my head shaking. “I can’t accept all of this.”

  “Yes, you can.” He reaches out and holds my hands in his. “You told me you wanted this place because it was the only place I’d never touched. It was the only place where you could forget about me. I don’t want you to forget about me. I don’t want you to live another day without me. So I’ve touched it now, Asher. I’ve made it so that we’re partners in this venture . . . and hopefully in life. I touched it because I don’t want to spend another day where either of us doesn’t feel one another’s presence.”