Promise Me (Asher Family #1)

Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

HUDSON

The last week has been a blur. If I haven’t been working at the bar and Sadie hasn’t been working on her ideas for Sips and Stories, we’ve been holed up in my apartment.

Mostly naked, a little tired, but definitely happier than I’ve been in years.

Which is how I ended up where I am now.

Sunday morning breakfast used to be a thing back when I was a kid. My mom would make a huge spread of dishes. She’d have bacon, sausage, eggs both cheesy scrambled and over easy, toast, pancakes, and fruit. She’d wake up before everyone else and make sure the table was set before we all woke up. It never occurred to me at the time, but now that I’m older, I’ve realized that it sure as hell could not have been easy, let alone cheap, to raise three boys.

I put my truck in park outside of my dad’s house and take notice that both Miles’s and Luca’s vehicles are already here.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to notice that even though I left and changed over the years, and even though our mom is no longer with us, the tradition is still alive and well with my family.

Honestly, I was hoping this is what I’d show up to.

After I first moved back home, Luca sent a text to me every Saturday night to remind me of this. That went on for about three months before the messages stopped.

Hell, I’ve been a shitty brother and son for the last three years. If Sadie has taught me anything in the last month, it’s that it’s never too late to make amends.

I grab the bag of donuts and the dish of spinach and egg quiche Sadie whipped up this morning that I brought with me.

When I told her the story of Sunday breakfast, I didn’t think she would read so much into it, but as it’s been extremely clear, she simply just keeps surprising me.

I don’t knock on the front door. Instead, I walk in only to freeze. Luca, Miles, and my father are all sitting at the table. Their gazes quickly shift to me.

I brace myself for some smart-ass comments or “it’s about damn time” teasing, but my dad just smiles as Luca says, “That better be Sadie’s cooking and not yours.”

It’s a tease, but not the one I was expecting.

I hold up the bag. “And Brooke’s donuts, fresh from this morning.”

Miles jumps up and yanks the bag out of my hand as I set the quiche on the table to go with their bacon and eggs.

“Chocolate glazed, hell yes.”

Then, as if my being here isn’t something out of the ordinary, they continue their conversation. I take my seat, and Dad hands me a plate and fork without a word.

“So, if she isn’t going to hire you to do the rebuild for them, who is she going to hire?” Miles directs his question at Luca.

“Fuck if I know. I told her it would be twice as expensive if she hired someone who wasn’t local, but she said, and I quote, I’d pay any amount of money if the result is that I don’t have to see your arrogant face every single day .”

Miles bursts into deep laughter while my dad shakes his head.

“Who are we talking about?” I ask, plating up some quiche and passing the dish to Luca.

“Shay Parker.”

“Shay Parker, as in Leo Parker’s little sister, Shay?”

“That’s the one.” Luca blows out a breath.

Leo Parker has been a sore subject for Luca since his sophomore year of high school. From first grade, it was Leo and Luca, troublemakers and best friends till the end. Until they weren’t. Leo was the one friend Luca and Miles didn’t fight over. It was like everyone knew Leo and Luca were a one-of-a-kind duo.

I tried to coax him to tell me why they aren’t friends anymore, but Luca went with the standard “we just grew apart” answer.

Which is a load of shit if you ask me, considering they have both gone on to thrive in their careers and are both well-known and cared for by the people here in Lovers. Luca runs the construction company that does all the work in Lovers, and Leo is one of two Parker kids who have taken over running the marina by the lake.

That said, Luca’s company has done all the remodels around town for almost all the businesses here, so why is this one different?

“She never objected to using your company before,” I say, and all of them turn to me.

“We need to catch you up,” Miles shakes his head. “The last remodel was four years ago while Mr. Parker still owned the place.”

“O-kay.”

I sense there’s more .

“Shay moved back about a year before you did once she graduated with her business degree. After Shay took over, the building hasn’t needed much, give or take a few repairs here and there. Those are single day jobs Shay can easily avoid Luca with.”

I nod. I’m aware that each Parker kid was required to attend school and get a degree in the field they wanted to manage when it came to the marina. Their father was very clear that he would sell or hire others who were more capable. If his kids wanted to continue the family business, they had to earn it.

So, it seems Shay did her part and is now back and making the rules.

“And she won’t hire you because …”

“Fuck if I know,” Luca spits. “Because her brother hates me, so she does by association.”

“Really, I would think that since you and her?—”

“You know what, let’s talk about something happy, yeah? So, you and Sadie are getting close?” Luca cuts me off, and I can’t help but laugh.

That is, to his point, a much happier topic. Yet it’s still one I’m not sure how to answer outside of the standard yes . I guess all I can hope for is that they don’t ask any follow-up questions.

But even I know that the chances of that are low.

“Well, we definitely aren’t fighting like we used to.”

“I can’t believe she got you to go back to the rink,” Miles says.

I nod.

“Onto the actual ice,” Dad adds. It’s a statement not a question, but still, I keep nodding.

“How was it different for her compared to us trying to help you?” Luca asks. The softness in his voice tells me he genuinely wants to know and that he isn’t mad. He tried harder than anyone else. The difference is simple: He’s not Sadie .

“We drove by the rink when we went to go get the new couch in Wind Valley a couple of weeks ago. She was out of the truck and basically running to the door before I caught her. I wasn’t about to let her go skating with a head injury like hers. By the time we got to the doors, I confessed I hadn't been in a rink since the accident, and she just stood there with me until I made a choice.”

None of them speak, but their eager eyes tell me they want me to go on.

“I guess I just thought that here I was choosing to pretend my past didn’t exist, and all the while I was standing next to a woman who would give anything to remember hers.”

Luca nods. “So, you went in.”

“Yes. The high school team was just exiting the locker room, and suddenly not only had I stepped foot into the rink, but I had kids wanting to talk hockey and asking for tips. It was surreal. It was nothing like I expected.”

“I’m glad Sadie was there. She’s been good for you,” Dad says quickly. He clears his throat—it’s his tell-tale sign that he’s getting emotional. Talk fast and clear his throat after.

“I think she might be a little too good for me,” I admit.

Miles starts to chuckle. “Good. It’s about time you figure it out.”

“Why don’t you look happy about it?” Luca asks.

I let out a breath. God, I'm getting sentimental, but these are my people. No matter how much I pushed them away, they have always been here, and they will always be here. So, it only seems fitting that I tell them exactly how I feel so that I won’t be alone in this again.

“Because … I was in love with hockey, and it was taken from me in seconds. I’m afraid that if I let myself feel too much for Sadie, and her memory comes back, it’ll be the same.”

I’ll lose the one thing that I care most about in this world .

Of course, I don’t tell them that part.

They can put it together.

Miles lets out a puff of air. “That’s the most you’ve said to us about your life since you got back.”

“So, are you saying that you’re in love with Sadie?” Dad asks.

My gaze flashes to him, and then Luca chuckles.

“Shit, she’s only been living with you for a few weeks. That was fast.”

I shake my head and run a hand down the front of my face.

“It’s something,” I say and then refuse to fight the grin.

“What does Linc think?” Miles asks.

My smile slips.

“He doesn’t know.”

“He doesn't know that you like his sister?”

“He doesn’t know a lot,” I reply.

Dad chuckles and gets up. “You’d better tell him. He’s your best friend.”

“I know. It just … he asked me to help her, and now we’re … I don’t even know what we are.”

“Are you planning on having a fling with her?” Luca asks.

“What? No. Why would you ask that?”

“Because if you’re not, then you need to tell him, and you need to tell him before he finds out from someone else. He won’t like that you’re hiding this from him.”

“I’m not hiding this. I’ll tell him. I just want to make sure the timing is right.”

“Anytime is the right time,” Dad says from the kitchen.

I know he’s right.

I nod, and the conversation switches to more work talk between Luca’s company and the garage Miles owns. Last summer, he built a house behind it on some property that he bought, and they just finished the apartment that’s attached to the side of the garage. The plan is that someday Dad will move into it, but until then, Miles is considering renting it out.

The rest of breakfast is uneventful, but one thing is for sure by the time I’m backing out of the driveway and heading home.

I’ll be back next week and many more after that.

I pull into my parking spot behind the bar, pop inside to check on the staff, and then head upstairs.

I can smell my apartment before I open the door. The lemon scent that fills the stairwell makes my stomach growl, which is saying something, because I just ate my weight in food at my dad’s.

Sadie doesn’t hear me when I open the door. She’s in the kitchen, the counters are a mess, and she’s swaying side to side as Laney Wilson plays through my little Bluetooth speaker.

I take this moment to watch her.

The way she moves around this place as if she owns it, the way her things are scattered around as if this has always been her home, the way my heart swells as I think about how I never want to come home and not find her here.

She spins, and as soon as she sees me, a smile breaks out on her lips.

“You're home. How did it go?”

“Good,” I say and wrap my hands around her hips, then lean against the counter as I pull her to me.

She grins, setting down the spatula that was in her hand and wrapping her arms around my neck.

“I’m happy to hear that.” She presses a light kiss to my lips. “Was it my quiche?”

I nod. “Definitely.”

“I thought so.”

She nods again firmly, as if she knew it would be her cooking, and then backs up.

“I made you lemon bars. ”

“I can see that. I thought you didn’t like baking.”

“I like baking. I just don’t want to do it for a living.”

“Ah.”

I glance around the small kitchen, a lump forming in my throat.

She made me lemon bars.

“I wasn’t sure how it was going to go today, so I wanted you to have something special when you got back just in case, and you told me a while back that these are your favorite, so”—she tosses her hands up—“I just made them.”

My favorite.

Fuck.

I need to tell her that she was making these the night she fell. Am I the reason she was there? I’ll never know, but I need to tell her.

“I have something to tell you,” I say and then rub the back of my neck.

Her gaze snaps to mine, and she stands a little taller.

“Okay. You look tense. Am I not going to like this?”

“I ... I don’t know.”

“Does it have anything to do with us?”

I nod.

“The us before or after I hit my head?”

Dread sprints through my entire body.

What if I tell her about this and it sparks her memory? All of it. Then, suddenly, we’ll be back to where we started.

Shit.

Shit.

“Well?” she prompts me.

I have to tell her. I have to.

“The night you hit your head, you were making lemon bars.”

She studies me for a moment.

“Okay. ”

“And … the day before that, I told you that your lemon bars were subpar and that I had to wash them down with beer, or some version of that.”

I swear my entire body is pulsing with each beat of my heart as I wait for her to reply.

She crosses her arms but doesn’t say anything.

“And so, you think that I was there that night because of you?”

I give one single nod and wait.

Instantly, her expression softens, and she steps toward me, reaches up to run her fingers through my hair, and kisses me.

“I have no doubt that I was there trying to perfect something someone told me wasn’t my best, but you didn’t push me down, Hudson. What happened wasn’t your fault.”

“You were there because of me. I’m sure of it.”

“We don’t know that. Either way, you are not the reason I hit my head. Listen,” she says and turns my face to look at her, “you are not responsible for what happened to me. All right?”

How can she be so accepting of everything right now?

“All right?” she repeats. “Tell me you hear me.”

“I hear you.”

“Good.”

She presses to her toes and kisses me.

“Now let’s eat these yummy bars, get naked, and then possibly start brainstorming ideas for locations for Sips and Stories.”

She retreats to the kitchen quickly, and the guilt that vanished right away when she told me the accident wasn't my fault is back. I should tell her that she wants Mrs. Whittaker’s space. I should tell her about the deal we made to decide who gets it, but what if I tell her, she remembers, and then boom, she pushes her dream of Sips and Stories to the back of her mind all over again to pursue what she thought she wanted before she hit her head ?

Fuck .

My mind races with what choice I should make, but then she smiles at me and tells me she thinks her bookstore should be focused on romance books and starts to tell me more about the decor she wants.

I don’t want her to pass up her dream again.

But that only eases my choice not to tell her about the space a little bit.

I know I’ll have to tell her, just not yet.