PROLOGUE
Asher
Fifteen Years Ago
Ledger cuts the engine just outside the gate to the farm. Lights are still on in the house, which means Gran is probably peeking out the window to make sure I’m home by my curfew.
I shift in my seat to look at him.
He has both of his hands propped on the steering wheel as the ticking of the cooling engine filters in through the open windows. He glances at me and gives me a lopsided smile before emitting a nervous chuckle.
It’s like everything changed between us over the past few hours and yet nothing really has.
He’s still him.
I’m still me.
And yet . . . we’re connected now in a special way that I don’t think I expected to feel.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly, his eyes searching my face.
I nod, surprised at the sudden awkwardness after what we just did. “You?”
“Yeah.” That crooked smile evens out as he laces his fingers with mine. “I promise I’ll be better at it next time.”
“How exactly do you plan on practicing?” I ask. He whips his eyes to mine and then his face softens when he realizes I’m just teasing him. “Ledge?”
“Yeah?”
“It was perfect,” I whisper.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he nods. “It was, wasn’t it?”
I squeeze his hand and look toward the house just in time to see one of the curtains move.
“I have to get inside.”
“I know. I wish you didn’t have to, though.” He stares at me for a beat before climbing out of the truck and rounding the hood to open my door for me. There’s something about the way he looks at me that makes me wish we could just climb into his truck and keep driving.
Away from this town.
Away from its judgment.
Away from its dismissal of me.
Ledger must see it in my eyes because he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into him. His skin is warm from the summer night and smells like a mixture of sunscreen and sun.
“We’ll only be apart for a few hours,” he murmurs against the crown of my head. “My dad will be busy with Barbie or Bunny or whatever her name is, and your gran and pop will be asleep.”
I nod, my bottom lip between my teeth, as I look up at him. “Meet back by the willow tree, right?”
“Yeah. In our spot.”
“At eleven thirty?”
“Mm-hmm.” He leans down and presses his lips to mine. His kisses always make me feel. Warm. Wanted. Loved. It’s the best feeling in the world.
And truth be told, of the handful of boys I’ve kissed, Ledger is definitely the best at it.
The creaking of the screen door sounds seconds before I hear, “Asher, honey?”
“Coming, Gran,” I call out with a roll of my eyes as I take a few steps toward the house, Ledger’s and my linked hands outstretched between us for as long as possible until they break. I turn and face him. “Promise you’ll be there? At the tree?”
“On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
He holds his hands out to his sides. “That you’ll love me forever,” he whisper-yells before flashing me a grin that could light up the darkened sky.
Laughing, and feeling like nothing in the world could ever ruin this feeling, I jog back to where he’s standing and press a kiss to his lips. “I promise.”
I turn and take off running through the fields toward the house, emitting a whoop as I go. When I hit the steps of the veranda, breathless but still giddy, I turn back to look at him one last time. He’s standing in a strip of moonlight. His hands are shoved in his pockets, his back is against the bed of his truck, and he’s looking straight at me with that smile still on his lips.
I blow a kiss in his direction and know that I’ll always think of him like this. My moonlight boy who said he’d love me forever.
CHAPTER ONE
Ledger
Dear Sharpe International Network,
We, the members of Cedar Falls City Council, are writing to object to certain issues pertaining to your recent purchase and current renovations of The Retreat. While we value free enterprise, we also value the citizens of our town and their livelihoods. In your quest to resort-ize, commercialize, and bastardize our town, many small businesses that have been staples in our community for generations now worry about being wiped out by your big-business mentality.
In the original application for your conditional-use permit submitted to our City Council on February 13th, Sharpe International Network proposed that your resort would create new jobs and help stimulate our economy. As of the date of this letter, you have yet to keep your promises. All contracts issued by S.I.N. thus far have been awarded to firms from Billings and beyond. Not from Cedar Falls proper.
While we understand you are a business that needs to remain profitable, we are a town that needs to protect its citizens and their way of life. The City Council has decided that it will only grant a final certificate of occupancy after the following condition has been met. A founding board member from your firm must stay in Cedar Falls for two full months to oversee the project. We feel that with boots on the ground, you will see the importance of following through with your promises and ensure that the city council of Cedar Falls can communicate promptly with said founding member as needs arise.
Until that condition is met, neither a final inspection nor a certificate of occupancy will be granted.
Until then,
Cedar Falls City Council
“They’re kidding, right?” I laugh the words out as I glance from the email on my laptop and at my brothers. “Bastardize their town? Such bullshit. When The Retreat is done, it will bring more tourism to Cedar Falls. More business. More everything to boost their economy.”
I knew buying the property, in this specific location, was a bad decision.
But the past is the past, right? What happened years ago are things my brothers don’t even know about. And I plan to keep it that way.
“Apparently they think differently,” Ford says from his seat across the conference table. His feet are on the table, his hands clasped behind his head, and his eyes narrowed as he rereads the same email on his laptop. “And why aren’t we contracting locally?”
“Because the local companies aren’t big enough to handle it? Not of the caliber we need?” I take a guess. “Ask Hillary,” I say of our on-site project manager. “She’ll have the answers.”
“We can ask her all we want,” Ford says, “but it’s not going to fix the problem.”
“Or stop them from holding our permits hostage,” Callahan adds.
I look at Ford and then at our brother, Callahan. He’s standing at the wall of windows that line our conference room, staring at me with the same expression Ford has.
There are three of us, identical in appearance, and yet so very different in every other aspect.
“Why did we agree to purchase this place again?” I groan and pinch the bridge of my nose. Headaches upon headaches upon headaches. “I thought new projects were supposed to be thrilling and exciting.”
“Nothing is thrilling and exciting when you’re as uptight as you are, Ledge,” Callahan says and smiles as only a little brother can.