On One Condition Page 8

  “You’d die. Finely tailored suits and dress shirts rolled up to the elbows.”

  “Forearm porn. Yummy.”

  “Definitely forearm porn. But it’s so much more than that. They’re educated and refined with a little bit of street thrown in. Ugh. Each one I meet is better than the next.”

  “These are the guys in the program? Because if so, you need to pull some all-night study sessions.”

  “No.” I laugh because the guys in the program are eccentric and quirky along with talented. Even though I’m artsy, it has never been the vibe I’m attracted to. “I’m talking about the men in the city. The ones who walk fast on the sidewalk as if they are off to a very important meeting. The kind that makes you want to stop and stare because they exude an air of authority. They look . . .” exactly how I imagined Ledger would look in his element.

  The thought comes out of nowhere. A flashback to a past I’ve learned to stop giving a second thought to.

  I shake the thought away. How weird that it crept in, right now in this moment, after I’d permanently scrubbed him from my mind.

  Or at least tried to.

  But truth be told, I have looked for him in the crowd every once in a while before coming to my senses.

  “Right?” Nita asks, bringing me out of my thoughts and to the present.

  “I’m sorry. Your phone cut out,” I lie.

  “I said, so they’re basically the polar opposite of every man here in Cedar Falls.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So older men, then. Classy. Worldly. They are right up your alley, then. You’ve always had a thing for that type.”

  “Maybe.” I giggle. “You’ll still come visit me, right?”

  “Yeah.” Her voice is soft, and I hate that she doesn’t have this opportunity. Hell, I can’t even believe that I am getting the chance. “I will.”

  “And everything back home is—”

  “The same. Boring. Lonely without you here to be my partner in crime.” She sniffs, and I hope I haven’t made her sad. We’ve been inseparable since we met during our first semester of junior college. She had just moved to Cedar Falls with her mother and needed help finding her way on campus. I offered to show her to class since we were in the same general education math class. We’ve been thick as thieves ever since. She’s the sister I never had. And doing this here without her feels like I’m gloating.

  My heart constricts but my happiness overshadows it. And she’d want that for me. I know it, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

  It’s like I’m starting over. No one knows me, knows my name or my history, and since I arrived months ago, I feel like I can be whoever I want to be. I can reinvent myself so I’m not Asher Wells the small-town girl and product of a promiscuous mother who isn’t going to amount to anything, but rather Asher Wells, the aspiring artist and cultured city girl.

  It’s the most liberated I’ve ever felt.

  My cell beeps, and I look at the screen to see that it’s Pop. “Hey, I’ve gotta go,” I tell Nita. “Pop’s on the other line.”

  “Sure. Dump me for Pop,” she teases, but she knows my love for my grandparents. “Call me later. Love you.”

  “Love you too.” I end the call with her and pick up Pop’s call. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much. “Pop! Hi. Oh my God. I have so much to tell you. I’ve—”

  “Asher.” His voice is a whisper with grief-laced despair in its threads.

  “Pop? What’s wrong?” My heart sinks to my feet.

  “It’s Gran. She collapsed. They’re saying that—” His voice breaks into a sob. “I can’t lose her, Ash.”

  My hands shake. The dress I’m holding falls to the ground as the world drops out from under me.

  “I’m . . . I’m on my way.”

  “No. It’s okay . . .”

  But it’s not.

  I have to go.

  I have to be there for the only people who have ever been there for me.

  What I didn’t know when I walked away from that world of opportunity—of utter happiness—was that I’d never get it back.

  Asher

  “Gran,” I warn playfully.

  “What?” she asks innocently, her speech slurred, while hiding my checker piece she just palmed from the board.

  She gives me that soft, crooked smile that I’ve been on the receiving end of my whole life. It’s full of love and warmth, even though I know she’s struggling to simply endure most days. And yet, like the selfless soul she’s always been, she’s still trying to make me smile and feel her love.

  I cling to the sight of it. Today’s a good day. She’s lucid and seems at peace.

  Her first stroke paralyzed her left side completely, and it took over eighteen months to recover from. Five years later, her second affected her memory and added some nerve damage more than anything. And her third one, four months ago, left her struggling to make decisions and bound her to a wheelchair.

  The decision to move her to the assisted living facility was agonizing. She and Pop hadn’t been apart for almost sixty years, and there I was telling him I could no longer provide her medical needs. That I’d failed him. And that it was finally time to get her the help she needed.

  His heart broke more than mine that first day we left her here, but he put on a brave face for me. I heard his soft crying through the bedroom door every night for the next few weeks.

  I made the decision. I told him it was time. And then he died of a broken heart, alone, and without the love of his life by his side.

  The guilt I feel over it steals my breath most days.

  And the times I visit Gran when the staff tells me she’s struggling more and more each day, that her mental capacity is declining faster, I wonder if it’s her broken heart that is winning the battle or her worn-down body. Those days? Those are the ones when I pull out of the parking lot, park a mile down the road, and sob till I can’t cry anymore because I feel like my decision was the catalyst for all of this.

  It’s a rarity that she feels good enough to get out of her bed and be wheeled to the rec room. The staff knows on those days to call me regardless of the time because I’ll be there as soon as possible. That I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

  That call came today.

  Her smile and mischief are the only things I need.

  “You’re going to beat me handily enough. I assure you, you don’t have to cheat,” I say, moving my black checker from one square to another for my turn. “Your turn.”

  But when I look up, Gran is looking across the room, fixated on something. Expression blank, eyes astute. For the briefest of seconds, I panic, worrying that something is wrong with her.

  I follow her gaze and freeze.

  What is he doing here?

  Ledger is standing on the far side of the recreation room. He’s huddled in a conversation with another woman in a sharp business suit and the director of the facility. They are discussing something in hushed voices, I assume to avoid disturbing the residents.

  I watch for a few moments, as does Gran, until hands are shaken between the trio as if the meeting is over. Ledger’s laugh carries over to where we sit and just before he walks out, he turns to scan the room again.

  The surprise when he sees me is exactly how I felt when I saw him standing there.

  He gives me a strange look—surprise, confusion, I don’t know—before he says something to the people he’s standing with and makes his way across the room.

  “Well, look at this handsome thing walking our way,” Gran murmurs as she attempts to sit up straighter when physically she can’t. “Tall. Handsome. Those shoulders. I do believe he is just your type.”

  I cough to cover my laugh. Jesus. It seems Gran is friends with Fate. And who knew a handsome man could make her the most lucid she’s been in weeks?

  “He’s not my type,” I mutter, hating that it’s hard to pull my eyes away from him.

  I try.

  I really do.

  Liar.

/>   “Ladies,” he says with a subtle nod in greeting as he approaches our table.

  Will Gran recognize him?

  “It’s all her fault,” Gran says, pointing my way with her good hand, a sly smile on her half-frozen mouth and a twinkle in her eyes that I haven’t seen in forever.

  “What’s my fault?” I ask thoroughly confused.

  “Whatever it is we’re in trouble for, dear. He’s in a suit—and looking good in one I might add—so whatever he came over here for, it’s your fault.”

  Gran just hung me out to dry.

  I stare at her, slack-jawed. It’s then I realize that I’m so used to Gran’s slurred speech I know what she said. I’m just about to rephrase it for Ledger, but he beats me to the punch.

  “No one’s in trouble,” Ledger says clearly making sense of her enunciation while unbuttoning his jacket as he comes to a stop. “I saw two beautiful women sitting over here, and I couldn’t resist coming over and saying hi.”

  Smooth. Real smooth, Sharpe.

  “Well, hello there,” Gran says with a fingertip wave and a pathetic bat of her eyelashes. “Please. Join us.”

  Ledger glances my way, almost as if to ask if it’s okay. Every part of me wants to tell him to leave me be with Gran and not cloud this time I have with her by adding the confusing mess of “us” to it. At the same time, I haven’t seen Gran this spry in so long. A small, irrational part of me is afraid it’ll leave if he does.

  I give a slight nod in consent, prompting him to pull out the spare chair at our table and take a seat.

  “Thank you,” Ledger says, smiling warmly at Gran. I can tell he’s looking for any sign of recognition, but she shows none and for that I’m grateful.

  “Adele,” Gran says and holds out her hand to him. Ledger’s gaze flickers my way and before he can answer with his unique name that I fear Gran will most definitely remember, Gran’s spitfire kicks back in. “And yours must be Handsome.”

  I have to give him credit because his expression of what the hell vanishes as quickly as it appears. “Okay. Sure.” He chuckles as he shakes her hand, his cheeks flushing.

  “It’s always better to keep a little mystery when courting.” She winks.

  “Good to know,” he murmurs.

  “This is my granddaughter, Asher. She’s single, you know. Ready to be courted.”

  “Gran,” I warn.

  “It’s always important to know your options,” Ledger says, his smile genuine.

  “Exactly.” Gran pats his arm and then squeezes there. “Oh my. Look how fit you are.”

  Did she seriously just say that?

  Yes. Yes, she did, and she hasn’t moved her hand away yet.

  “Does your girlfriend enjoy that? Your strong physique?” she continues, adding to this deliberate show of flirting she has going on.

  “No girlfriend,” Ledger says, his eyes holding mine briefly.

  Her grin is wide, and the finger she points at him when she slowly lifts her hand is gnarled from arthritis. “Get you a girl who likes to argue.” She waggles her eyebrows. “That means the bedroom will never be boring.”

  “Jesus, Gran,” I spit out as Ledger just looks at me with the lift of an eyebrow and a ghost of a smile.

  “I’m old, dear. I have a lot of advice to give and like to say what’s on my mind.” She glances my way for a beat, her expression falling blank again, and I fear I’ve lost her. But just as quickly as it appears her mind fires blanks, she gives the subtlest shake of her head before focusing back on Ledger. “That’s the freeing part of getting older. Not caring what anyone thinks of you.”

  “If that’s the case, Adele, might I trouble you for some advice?”

  Gran seems thrilled to have a purpose that’s something other than sitting in her wheelchair. “Of course. Is it love advice? I’m really good at that. I was with my Richard for over sixty years.” She holds a hand to her heart and gets a wistful smile on her face. “I argued a lot if you catch my drift.” She winks.

  Ledger coughs through his laugh, and I want to pretend I didn’t hear my gran just say she was good in bed. Clearly, she’s having more than just a good day today.

  “Sure. I guess my question can be classified as about love in a sense.”

  “Goody.” If she could rub her two hands together in anticipation, I’m sure she would be.

  “There’s this girl,” he says. I immediately shake my head in response to Ledger Sharpe asking my grandmother for love advice about me. Because that’s what he’s about to do, isn’t he? The glance he gives me partnered with the sly smile is all I need to see to know I’m right.

  “What about her?” Gran asks.

  “We haven’t seen each other in a long time.”

  “Did you do something wrong to her? To hurt her?”

  Ledger hangs his head for a beat to look at where he’s playing with a checker piece. “The more time that passes, the less I know the answer to that question,” he murmurs before looking up and directly at me. My breath hitches and my pulse starts to race. “Everything I thought was certain didn’t feel so certain anymore once I saw her again.”

  “So you have seen her again then?” Gran asks, and Ledger finally breaks his gaze from mine to look at her as he nods. “Force her to talk to you. Tell her your side.” Gran pats his hand in sympathy. “Easy.”

  “Not so easy. She refuses to talk to me about the past.”

  Gran smiles wistfully, almost as if she’s remembering something from her own memory, before looking back at him. “Pin the girl down and kiss her. That’ll remind her exactly of who you are and what you had. Then I’m certain she’ll stop and listen.”

  A smile slowly crawls onto Ledger’s lips. “You think that will work?” he asks Gran but holds my gaze, arching one brow.

  “I do,” she murmurs.

  “I disagree,” I say, trying to break up this little tête-à-tête. “If she’s angry at you, she’s angry at you and you don’t have any right to invalidate that anger.”

  Ledger chews the inside of his cheek as he leans back in his chair. “No one’s invalidating anything.”

  I snort and roll my eyes as Gran does her best to narrow hers at me. “Did you ever try to get in touch with her over the years? To talk to her?”

  Ledger nods, and I immediately reject his response. I lived it. I was there, I want to shout at him. “There are two sides to every story, Asher.”

  His gaze pins me in place. The teenager I used to know wasn’t as in control of his emotions as the man is before me.

  But his jaw tics and his eyes swim with challenge.

  “Okay, everyone,” the activity director says to the room. There’s shuffling and murmuring as heads turn to look her way. “We’re going to move into the sunroom for a bit now and watch a movie.”

  Gran rolls her eyes before looking at Ledger. “Thank you for spending time with me.” She pats his arm. “Maybe one day Asher here will find a nice man like you. We used to say to keep her honest, but I’d rather he kept her on her toes.”

  “The pleasure is all mine,” Ledger says, reaching out and patting the top of her hand.

  Gran blinks several times as she looks at him before turning to me. “I’m really tired.” Her face falls a little and I can sense her starting to fade, as she often does. This is when the cognitive decline becomes apparent and for her own dignity’s sake, I rise immediately so she’s not embarrassed by it.

  “Perfect time to rest then while everyone else watches the movie.”

  She nods slightly, her lack of words telling me her downward spiral is coming fast. Within moments, I have her favorite nurse helping her to her room for some privacy with a promise to put the game away and come kiss her goodbye after she’s settled.

  The minute she is out of earshot, I turn to find Ledger studying me. I’m annoyed with him, and I’m honestly not sure why.

  Is it because he stole some of my time with Gran? No. That can’t be it, because look how lively he made her.
/>
  Is it because I’m jealous that he was able to do for her what I wasn’t able to?

  Yes. No. Maybe.

  All I know is, he has been nowhere for fifteen years and now, all of a sudden, he’s freaking everywhere—in my town, in my thoughts, in an assisted living facility for God’s sake.

  I square my shoulders and head back to the table where he still sits.

  “Thanks for amusing Gran. That was nice of you, but you can go now. She won’t be coming back out for some time.” The smile I offer him is strained. I then pick up the checker pieces and board.

  “That’s all you’ve got for me, Ash? Shame, I don’t think Gran would be very receptive to such hostility.” Why does he say things like that with a smile? One that says I’m being ridiculous, and he’s not annoyed or fazed or anything in the least?

  “And I don’t think she’d be receptive if she knew who you really were,” I grit out as I close the box on the checkers and head to the game closet down the hallway without looking back at him.

  I don’t realize my mistake until I’m at the far end of the long, narrow walk-in type closet, and his footsteps sound behind me. I put the game on the shelf in its place and turn to find Ledger standing there, his broad shoulders eating up the small space.

  “What are you doing here, Ledge?”

  “Talking to you.” There’s that disarming, I’m not doing anything wrong but annoying you grin again.

  I blow out an exasperated sigh. “No. I mean here. At the facility. In this closet. Here.”

  “Talking to you,” he repeats.

  “Well, I only talked to you because of Gran. Now she’s gone, so I don’t have to be polite anymore.”

  “So that means you don’t want to talk about what happened?” He takes a step closer to me.

  “No. I told you I didn’t. Let it go.”

  “Only if you will.”

  He’s trapped me in my own words. If I let the past go, then I have no reason to be angry with him and every right to want that kiss he almost gave me—and that I’ve thought about way too much.

  “Go away,” I mutter. He steps closer to me and reaches out to play with a strand of hair that’s fallen over my shoulder.