Page 82 of Because You Loved Me

“I’ll bring Craig back tomorrow,” Chase said. “With a truck for you. That way, you don’t have to be stranded out here. In case you decide to follow your?—”

“Do not say heart.”

Chase wiggled his eyebrows and chuckled. “Go look for the letter,” he said as he walked past and slapped him on the shoulder. “I really think it’ll make you feel better.”

Asher didn’t know about that.

He followed his brother outside and waited while he walked toward his vehicle.

Before he got in, Chase turned. “Dad thought a lot more of you than just the one who gets things done, Asher. You do know that, right?”

Asher dropped his head for a moment and inhaled deeply. “I wish I did, Chase. I really wish I did.”

ChapterTwenty

It was completelydark by the time Asher watched Chase’s taillights fade away down his drive. The air was heavy with the promise of snow, which meant it was likely to be a cold night and he’d need more wood for the fire.

He made multiple trips between the shed and house, loaded down with enough wood to get him through the night and then some. Despite his exhaustion, he welcomed the physical exertion and the deep sleep that he’d be able to fall into.

He was exhausted from thinking about Noa and then his father. It was all a little too much for one day. He’d be able to think clearly in the morning and, despite Chase’s urging for him to find the letter, it felt easier not to think about it. At least not for the moment.

Asher made one final trip out to the shed. He flicked off the overhead light and was about to close it up for the night when, at the last minute, he reached for the notebook and tucked it under his arm.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to read through the lists his dad had made. After all, it was in his nature to be thedoer.Without even knowing what it was, Asher knew he’d cross every one of those things off any list his father had made.

It’s what he did.

Once the fire was stoked and Asher was settled on the couch with a glass of wine, his back to the Christmas tree he still couldn’t bring himself to take down, he opened the book and started to read through the pages.

He went in order and soon was able to decipher some kind of pattern to the entries. There would be gaps of weeks and even months between entries, and then three or four in a row. Mostly there were bullet point items of projects he wanted to complete, or even things he’d finished.

He’d put new shingles on the roof, re-sided the cabin, built a new porch, and even the shed, in his time. But there was a lot more on the lists, too, including a wood-fired hot tub and a back deck.

“You don’t ask for much, do you, Dad?” Asher rolled his eyes at the lists, knowing he’d figure out a way to get the projects done.

As he worked his way through the lists, ideas of his own sparked, too. After all, the cabin belonged to him now. He could change it and make it his own, and to his surprise, the idea excited him.

When he was almost at the end of the notebook and the date on the top of the page changed to eight months before the date that Michael Carlson had died, Asher took a break. He poured himself another glass of wine and braced himself before opening the book again.

It was in the second last entry, on the final line, that Asher noticed the item.

Box under the sink.

It was only four little words, but they sent a chill down his spine. He set the book down and went directly to the sink.

There were the usual bottles and cleaners. A bag of rags, and there, tucked into the back corner, was a rectangular wooden box.

Box under the sink.

Asher withdrew the box and put it on the kitchen counter. He lifted the lid and there it was.

The letter.

Asher shook his head with a chuckle because dammit, Chase was right, and he hated that.

He picked up the envelope addressed to him in his father’s handwriting and returned to the couch to open it.

When he slid the paper from the envelope, a small photo fell out on his lap. It was a grainy photo of his father as a much younger man. And himself.

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