“For the tractor. I’m thinking it’ll pull a cart and we can have hayrides this fall.”
An easy smile slips across my face as he slaps the side of the metal behemoth. “I just have to clean it up a bit and we should be good.” Asher’s a solid guy and a good time to hang out with, always thinking about what he can do for the community. “Hayrides for the kids and then the after-party in the hangar.”
My lips kick up into a smirk at the thought of it. “Sounds like a good time to me.” The second floor of the hangar has seen a number of parties back in the day. I’ve missed too many of them recently.
“You going to be here?” he asks me, tossing the used rag in a drum in the corner and grabbing a fresh one to wipe the oil from his hands. He’s almost always got black crud somewhere on him while he’s here. The citrus aroma of orange from some heavy-duty cleaner he uses fills up the space as I follow him around the interior.
“’Course, why wouldn’t I be?”
“I heard you were thinking about eloping with Magnolia up north or something like that.” Asher smirks at me. His voice is far too casual for what feels like an assault on my heart. I know it’s not intentional. He couldn’t hide the humor from his eyes if his life depended on it. It takes me a second longer than it should to fix my expression. “I’m just fucking with you, man.” He tosses down the blue rag, this one less filthy than the previous one and his hands somewhat cleaner. The light in his eyes dims when he asks, “You doing all right, though?” He turns his back to lead the way to the register and, right in front of it, dangling sets of keys.
One pair belongs to my car that needed an oil change and a look over.
“Feel like shit.”
“Over Magnolia?” he questions with sincerity. Normally I don’t like hearing anyone ask about her or talk about her. It’s none of their damn business what’s going on in Mags’s life. When it comes to Asher, though, I know he’s asking for good reason.
“I didn’t know that’s what the word was,” I answer and then take in a deep breath. There’s no one in this town I owe a damn thing. But Asher, with all the shit that happened over the last four years, I owe him more than anyone knows.
Clearing his throat, he snatches my keys from the pegboard and turns to look over his shoulder, a smile still lingering. “You know it’ll change by lunchtime.” He adds a wink for good measure.
“Ain’t that the truth.”
He rattles off a number of things. Something needed replacing, another something had to be ordered, and when it’s in he’ll give me a call. It’s all business for a moment until the cash register closes and he squares his shoulders, facing me and crossing his arms over his chest.
Asher’s a backwoods kind of guy. Grew up on motocross and hunting. He’s a straight shooter and when he peers back at me, his gaze questioning, I know he’s going to pry.
“Heard you were going to that gallery thing, your folks going too?” he comments. His faded blue jeans are smeared with oil on the right side. His polo seems to be new, but it’s already fit for the hangar, marred with that same oil up the same side.
“I’ll be there, but they’re not coming. Pops has backed off a lot recently.” Asher nods along, organizing something on the counter into small plastic bins.
“How’s your mom?” he asks, his words much more careful than any others.
“The same,” I say and I’m quick to change the subject back to the gala Mags is putting on. “Some suits are coming into town and I’m taking them to the event.”
“Politics?” he questions, his brow arched. Anything that refers to work of any kind in government is “politics” to him and he never fails to tell me how much he hates it all. Ever since middle school he’s told me he prefers anarchy. I don’t think he really knows what it means, he’s just tired of how slow it can all be.
“Yeah,” I answer him and lean back against an old bench. “Wining and dining. You going?”
I have to laugh when his head rears back and he replies, “Hell no.” A few seconds later he adds with a broad smile, “I’ll be at the after-party, though.”
“Where’s that?” I question, feeling a bit of ease that I shouldn’t trust.
“Supposedly the backyard of the new bar.” Bingo. I knew it. He’s still sniffing around for information about Mags.
Asher could outright ask me what’s really on his mind, and if I don’t give him what he’s after before taking those keys he’s got dangling from his fingers, I know he will.
“Oh yeah?” I mimic his stance, crossing my arms over my chest and wait for the questions.
“That new guy … Griffin. Seems all right,” he comments and I’m damn surprised how much my heart races and my body heats. I could’ve sworn he was going to say Brody. The tension and anxiousness are enough to make me look away from a friend I’ve known my whole life. Just the idea that Asher holds any opinion of him at all makes me uneasy.
“Yeah, I met him. Looked up him and his friend when they filled out paperwork for the licensing.”
“Haven’t met that one yet.”
“Brody?” My body’s rigid and my jaw tight, but somehow I manage to say his name.
“Yeah … I take it you have?” he prompts.
Staring down at the place in the cement floor where I helped him fix a crack a year or two ago, I answer, “He’s all right.”
Asher stares at me a moment, his gaze drilling holes in the side of my head. “So he’s all right?”
It fucking kills me to confess, “I wish I could tell you he’s not. Believe me.”
His ever-present smile fades as the curiosity and questions settle in the faint laugh lines around his eyes. Like me, he’s in his mid-twenties. Asher’s a bachelor and a read-between-the-lines kind of man.
“They should be opening soon. It looks like it’ll be a fun place.”
“Yeah, I reckon it will be.” I rub the stubble at my jaw. If I wanted, I could tell this whole town that Brody’s not welcome. I could start it right here, right now, with my friend Asher. He’s on my side and he’s a damn good friend. But if I did that, I’d be a liar and Mags would never forgive me.
“So, you coming then?” Every question seems carefully worded. “To the after-party.”
Clearing my throat, I’m equally careful with my response. “Only if I get everyone on board to sign this education budget shift … and if I’m invited.”
Asher nods slowly and seems to bite his tongue. I’m not sure if he wants to spare my feelings but fuck it, I left my heart bleeding on a table last night. There’s not much more damage Asher could do.
“You’ve been dancing around something. Just spit it out.” Feeling a tightening in my chest, I force myself to add, more calmly, “You know I’ll tell you.”
“You really asked her to marry you? Miss Jones said there was a ring box on the table at dinner.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I nod, my eyes closed. “Yeah, I did.”
“And she said no?”
I’m quick to correct him. “She said it’s too soon.” There’s still hope. I may be a fool for holding on to it, but there’s still hope.