Promise Me (Asher Family #1)

Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

HUDSON

Tourist season is always good for the bar. It’s busy from opening until closing, and I like being busy. I like not having time to dwell on the things I can’t change. I’m fully aware of my obsession with things not turning out the way I thought they would. It’s a great reminder of why I take things day by day.

Although this past week has been interesting, to say the least.

“How is your day going, Boss?” Betty asks as soon as I step behind the counter of the bar to help her with the lunch rush. I’m going to man the bar while she waits tables with Shelly.

“Good.”

“It's just good? I feel like this past week has been overly eventful for you.” She tilts her head to the corner.

The prime spot for sunlight, so I’ve been told recently.

The day after Sadie and I made lemon bars in the bakery, she came down here to the bar, moved a couple of chairs around, and put what she calls her reading chair right where the windows meet in the south and east corners of the building. She’s got a little table next to it with flowers, and there’s a second chair across from her in case someone wants to join her. I won’t lie, when she isn’t using it, people flock to it. I’ve always had a basic industrial-looking bar. Chairs, tables, longer high-top tables, and the bar top. But her little seating area has been a nice place for those who want to just enjoy a beer without taking up an entire table.

Adding more areas like that wouldn't be a bad idea. More comfortable chairs and possibly even a few couches. Fill the place with more homey vibes.

But I also love that Sadie’s made herself at home here and in my apartment.

It’s a feeling I never thought I'd have again. The ease of living with someone. Going home at night and knowing she’s there makes me feel lighter. Relaxed. The last girlfriend I lived with was nice enough, but Sadie is one of a kind. She doesn’t expect anything from me the moment I step through the door—she just enjoys being around me.

Which is mind-blowing.

Sadie’s officially been crashing in my room for the last week. Every morning, she wakes up early and heads to the bakery. I didn’t follow her today. At some point, everyone needs to give her space to be her again, and right now, as she holds a book in one hand while sipping her iced tea, I can’t help but think the smile on her face means that she’s starting to feel more like herself than she has in a while.

Hell, maybe even before the accident. The fact I’m noticing this is also astonishing.

Maybe it’s the dinners we have cooked together or the fact that she’s just as obsessed with Wheel of Fortune as I am. Hell, these are the most mundane things, but with her … it’s better.

I blow out a breath as I turn my focus back to Betty.

“Things are good.”

“Oh man,” she says with a click of her tongue .

“What?”

“You like her. Like her , like her.”

“I …”

My answer stalls because the Sadie I’ve been hanging out with and the Sadie I grew up with are two different people. This one makes me feel something, yes, but I’m not an idiot. Her memory will come back, and it’s in my best interest not to get attached to this version of her.

I choose to go with “It’s just nice to see a different side of her.”

“Okay. I won’t press the topic.”

Betty moves out from the bar to greet a new table, leaving me with my thoughts as I wipe down the counters.

Sadie and I haven’t done much to help her memory since we made our little agreement. She’s been doing her own thing, which, in my head, is just as important. So, I guess, in a way, I am helping by letting her lead. She’s not stressed when she’s just being her.

That’s the best approach. One that isn’t forced. Then again, maybe I should recommend a few ideas. Her brother and her dad have stopped by. She always seems irritated when Linc leaves, but the look she gives her dad is gentler.

I have no doubt that she cares for her brother, but he can be a bit overprotective. I know that they invited her home for dinner this weekend, but she didn’t give them an answer yet. She’s avoiding her own house because she’s not ready to see how it moved on, and she didn’t. That should be what I help her with next. I just need to find a way to do it.

“I think we need to go to Wind Valley,” Sadie says, startling me and pulling up a seat at the bar with a sigh.

“And why is that?”

“The couch is still delayed. It’s been almost a week. It’s in Wind Valley. What if we just drove there and got it ourselves? ”

It’s not the worst idea, considering after a week of sleeping on my current couch—well, it needs to go.

I’d have to recruit my brothers to help me get it up the stairs, but that’s easy enough.

“Okay, when?”

“Really?” She perks up “Can we go right now? I’ll call them.”

“I’m working.”

“I’ve got this,” Betty chimes in, appearing out of nowhere. “You two get that new couch together. I’m not so sure I can keep watching him hobble around on that leg.”

I scowl at her.

For the last couple of days, anytime Sadie saw me limping, we argued over who was sleeping on the couch and who was sleeping in the bed. So far, I have always won. I’ve since decided to push through any pain when she’s around so she won’t notice. But it seems my bar manager is going to blow my cover.

“You told me it didn’t hurt.” Sadie folds her arms in front of her and glares at me.

“It doesn’t.”

Not right now anyway.

“Did you lie so that I would stop asking you to switch our sleeping spots?”

I sigh, loudly.

“You could have shared the bed,” Betty says as if she’s part of this conversation.

Sadie’s hand goes up. “I offered, and he shut me down real fast on that one.”

“I bet he did,” Betty replies. Her mouth opens to say more, but I beat her to it.

“I just need to fuel up, and we can go.”

I move quickly around the bar and nod for Sadie to follow. She hops off the stool with a smile and her book. “I love road trips!”

Two and a half hours later, the couch is loaded and strapped down in the bed of my truck.

Sadie is already in the passenger seat and waiting for me by the time I come outside of the gas station.

I hop in and hand her a diet soda from the fountain and a small bag of white cheddar popcorn.

She pulls the bag open right away.

The entire trip to Wind Valley was spent with Sadie asking me question after question about our relationship before her fall. What do we fight most over? Anything and everything . Who wins most of the fights? Me, naturally. Why do I come to the bakery every morning if I don’t like her? That one I laughed at and told her that you can be good at what you do and still have people not like you. Hence, why I kept showing up. Sadie just smiled at my answer and kept shooting off rapid-fire questions.

Anyway, it doesn’t surprise me when I pull onto the road and she starts talking again.

“How did you know I’d like this combination of snacks?”

I shrug. “You always ask for these instead of chips at the bar.”

“And the drink?”

“You either ask for diet or iced tea, and the store didn’t have iced tea.”

“Hmm. For someone who used to hate me, you sure know a lot about me.”

Yeah, I do. I mean, part of my job is to remember those who come in frequently, but I couldn’t tell you what chips Mr. and Mrs. Winter like to eat or drink .

“I would have thought that with our history, you’d pretend I wasn’t there or choose not to wait on me. From what I gather, I’m picky, I’m bossy, I’m?—”

“You are many things, Sadie, but invisible is not one of them.”

This makes her pause. I sort of like that I made her speechless, even if it’s short-lived.

“Still, I like that you know all these weird facts about me. But I feel like I don’t know much about you. Not now that we are adults.”

I nod. I don’t really like to talk about myself, but from her view, right now, it must seem like everyone knows her better than she does, so maybe I can give her some peace and let her know something about me that most people don’t know.

“What do you want to know?”

“Oh, so much.” She smiles teasingly at me. “What are you willing to share?”

I think it over for a moment, then tap the lid on her drink. “I don’t like pop. Water, flavored water, or beer is all I need.”

She holds up her popcorn bag.

“I’d pick baked barbeque.”

“Favorite shirt brand?” she asks.

“Is that a thing?”

“Is it for you?”

“No.”

“Favorite shoes?”

“Tennis shoes.”

“Colored socks?”

I chuckle. “Just white.”

“White isn’t a color.”

I fake a gasp. “It is too a color.”

“A boring one. ”

I’m about to ask her to ask me something else when she jerks forward in her seat.

“Oh! Is that an ice skating rink?” Sadie asks, her eyes wide as she grins and points out the front windshield. “We have to go.”

It’s the Wind Valley Recreation Center. I went there a lot as a kid. Since Lovers doesn’t have a year-round ice rink, my parents put me in private lessons on the weekends. Once I made the team, it made for a lot of long days to practice during the week. They had to take me out of school early on those nights just so we could make it. Which meant they left work early and put in a lot of time to help my dream come true.

All for me to be in the wrong spot at the wrong time and let it all fall apart.

That was the last time I was on the ice. I didn’t even try after the accident because I could barely walk. I wasn’t stupid. I knew the doctors were right.

So yeah, my skates have been packed ever since that night.

“I don’t think ice skating is something you should do,” I tell Sadie. “If you slip and hit your head, that would not be good. Your father and brother would kill me, and you know it.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, please, Hudson. If I go with you, I can hold your hand the entire time, and if I start to fall, you can catch me.”

I let out what sounds like a grunt.

“Like I said, your brother would kill me if I let you do this.”

And yet, my body steers the truck to the parking lot.

“It’s a good thing I’m not asking for your permission then, isn’t it?”

She pulls on the door handle to get out.

“Sadie, wait,” I call out, doing the same. I rush behind her as she practically jogs to the front doors. Not only have I not been on the ice, but I also haven’t been inside a rink since my accident.

Not one foot. Never even been this close to one.

My coach brought me all my personal belongings once the final decision was made, and I was released. He brought it to my house, and he stayed for maybe five minutes making awkward small talk. Maybe he had somewhere to be, or maybe the relationship I thought we’d built over the years was a joke. Either way, I never heard from him after that.

Sadie stops abruptly and turns on her toes. “Oh, are your skates in your truck?”

“What?” I ask.

Her question, although logical, throws me off.

“I’d assume you’d always have them with you for occasions like this, right?”

I shove my hands in the pockets of my jeans and drop my chin to my chest. I’d like to think there’s a way for me to get out of this situation. Convince her that this a bad idea because of her head and what not, but let’s be real: this is Sadie. Nothing I say—or anyone else says, for that matter—can stand in her way.

“I haven’t been at a rink in a while.” I’m still looking down at the cement sidewalk.

Silence floats between us, so I chance a look up.

She’s looking at the rink now, her lips twisted as if she wants to say something but is trying to decide whether it’s a good idea or not.

Suddenly, her gaze flashes to mine.

“Do you want to go inside?”

Fuck yes, I do.

But I spent the last three years putting this life behind me so I can move on. What’s going to happen to me if I step in there? Will I get flashbacks? Will I get angry as the memory of everything I lost floods back to me ?

“Let’s just go home,” Sadie says quickly and starts for the truck. “We can get the couch moved in, and then we can just?—”

“Yes,” I finally answer her before she can get too far away. “I want to go in.”

“You do?”

Her golden gaze meets mine, and even though I’m hesitant to confirm my answer, the glow of her hair as the sun sets behind her reminds me of what she’s been through since she showed up at my door.

She wants to be better. She wants to make sense of things. She wants to find herself again.

If I have even an ounce of her courage when it comes to the ice, I'll be okay.

“I’ll go in if you go to your dad’s this weekend for dinner.”

She rolls her eyes. “That’s a dirty trick.”

I shrug.

“And … will you come with me—inside, I mean?”

She bites her bottom lip with a nod.

“Of course, I will. Since you’ll be coming to dinner with me as well.”

I should have seen that one coming.

I nod, and then we don’t say anything else as we get to the doors. I freeze, and Sadie doesn't rush me. Instead, she just stands next to me for as long as I need.

It feels like hours, but in reality, it’s only seconds before I feel her hand slide into mine, her fingers lacing with my own and curling to hold on tight.

I look to my left to see her watching me. She doesn’t signal to the door or make any kind of gesture that I should make my move. She just stares right back at me. As if she knows this moment can’t be rushed.

I feel like a wimp. I mean, hell, I’m a grown man. I should be able to walk in there and face my fear, but it’s not that easy .

Her hand squeezes mine once more, and for some reason, the warmth of her next to me is all I need. Without letting go, I open the door and walk in, pulling her right behind me.

The smell hits me first, followed by the sound of the Zamboni cleaning the ice. This place looks exactly the same as I remember, but I don’t have time to go down memory lane. The chatter from the locker room gets louder, and suddenly, boys who, by their size, I can only assume are in high school start to filter out.

The one at the front of the group stops in his tracks. He swings his helmet in one hand and holds his stick in the other.

“Dillon, slap me,” he says and hits the back of his hand against the chest of his teammate next to him.

“Why?” the other kid asks.

“Because I'm 100 percent certain that the Hudson Asher is standing in our rink, looking right back at me.”

I nod hello and wave with the hand that isn’t locked with Sadie’s. I could let go, but I don't want to, and neither does she it seems.

“Oh, it’s him all right,” the other kid says, and then the entire team rushes out, all of them stopping to do a double take.

Finally, after a few seconds, the one at the front moves his stick to the other hand and reaches out.

I do the same and shake it.

“This is crazy. What are you doing here?” he asks.

“Do you live here?” another asks.

“Is it weird to ask if you can sign my skates?” someone asks from the back, starting a domino effect of requests.

“If we get to ask for things, I want to know his net move. It’s a classic!”

“No, the one when he skates backward and can still make a goal. ”

One by one, they either high-five me or shake my hand. Sadie tries to pull away, but I keep her close.

“I think I need to see the kind of moves this team has first,” I say in a joking tone that reminds me of razzing with my old team.

“Oh, you’re in for it,” one kid says, and then they all start up with the questions again.

“Whoa, whoa, this doesn’t look like warm-ups,” a man says as he struts from the locker room. He stops short when he notices the team’s silence, and then sees me.

“Well, this tracks then,” he says and holds out his hand. “Coach Beacher.”

I shake it. “Hudson Asher.”

The team erupts again, and then Coach Beacher shoos them onto the ice.

“Figure skating is right after us, boys—let’s not lose any time tonight.”

The boys hustle onto the ice, but their coach stays back with me.

“This was a nice surprise, and if you’d like to stay for practice, we’d love to have you watch. If you’re still here at the end, I might even cut it early for the boys to chat with you if you'd like.”

“I would,” I say without missing a beat.

“Good to hear.” He disappears into the rink, leaving Sadie and I alone. I walk closer to the glass and then take a seat.

“Are we staying for a bit?” she asks.

“Do you mind?”

“Not even a little.” She sits next to me.

Her eyes drift to the players on the ice, but mine drift to her.

Did I think that I’d return to the rink one day? Yes. Is it better than I could have ever expected because of the woman next to me? Double yes .

“You’re not watching the players,” she says, never taking her eyes off the ice.

“I know.” My voice catches, and she turns to me.

A smile touches her lips, and in a moment when I think I’d be stressed or worried or I don’t even know, all I can think about is how those lips would taste. How would they feel pressed against mine? How, after all these years, all the fights, the feuds, the bickering … I can honestly say that I never, ever want to go back to how things were between us.

This version of us is my favorite.