Homecoming Hearts Series Collection

by HJ Welch

  It was like his mouth was conspiring against his brain to make him sound like a lunatic.

  Trent bit his lip. “I’d like…” he said. His gaze was on Ashby’s mouth. “Uh…”

  Very carefully, Ashby raised his hands and placed them over the top of Trent’s. Trent blinked and swallowed. Dear lord. Did he want Ashby?

  Maybe he was just experimenting? Ashby had been very vocal over his sadness at Trent’s unavailability. Ashby probably wouldn’t have told him how hot he was so many times if he ever thought he had a shot. So did Trent now think he’d be up for a little fooling around? Maybe he wanted to compare what being with a guy was like to being with a girl?

  Ashby couldn’t say he was thrilled with being anyone’s science experiment, let alone someone he cared about as much as Trent. But on the other hand, he wasn’t sure he had the strength to say no to him either. Ashby knew full well he’d do anything to feel Trent’s body on top of him, to feel his cock…anywhere. He quivered with want at the mere thought.

  Trent rose his hand and cupped the side of Ashby’s face, making him gasp. He brushed his thumb against his cheek.

  “What would you like, Trent?” Ashby asked, miraculously not tripping over his own tongue. He could hardly hear his voice over his own heartbeat in his ears. “What do you want?”

  Trent looked so stressed. Ashby took his free hand and use his fingertips to try and smooth away some of the tension from his face.

  “You,” Trent whispered.

  Ashby’s heart stuttered, his fingers stilled by his face. What had this big hunk of man just said to him? “You want…?”

  “You,” Trent repeated. He closed his eyes briefly. When they opened again, they were blazing with confidence. “I know what I said…before. I know you’re a guy. But a couple of pretty smart people told me to stop overthinking things.”

  Ashby gulped, thanking Trent’s friends in silent prayer.

  “Oh,” he said. There was definitely a squeak there. “That’s, um, nice. Isn’t it? I guess...uh, well-”

  “Ashby,” Trent growled. He raised one of his thick, dark eyebrows, the way that always made Ashby squirm. It occurred to him that Trent might have worked that out.

  “Uh, yes?”

  “Stop overthinking,” Trent said gently. He smiled, changing his whole face to show the kind man Ashby knew was hiding underneath the gruff exterior. He rubbed his fingers against Ashby’s collarbones through his shirt.

  “Okay,” Ashby said, nodding. “Okay, no more thinking. Um, does that mean I can kiss you instead?”

  Trent’s smile widened and Ashby thought he might just melt into a puddle right there.

  “Yeah,” Trent drawled. His tongue licked his lower lip, making it glisten in the dimly lit hotel room. “Let’s try starting there.”

  Ashby was only too happy to comply.

  1

  Trent

  All Trent wanted was a damn coffee.

  It didn’t used to be like this. Sure, he’d been in the limelight one way or another for the past eight years. But since his last film had hit the box office things had gotten so crazy he struggled to get anywhere without being hounded.

  As soon as he ventured into the lobby of his apartment building in downtown LA, he knew he was in trouble. Camera flashes went off like the Fourth of fucking July, lighting up the night. Trent suddenly wondered if it wasn’t too much to call his driver and ask him for a lift.

  The coffeehouse was only around the block, though. A wave of resentment rose within Trent that he would be denied the simple satisfaction of buying his own damn cappuccino. So he shoved his hands in his leather jacket and continued walking out from the elevator.

  Someone must have put up a new blog post or started a new rumor for there to be that many guys waiting outside his door like a pack of wild hyenas. They were already yelling and waving at him as he walked over the marble floor towards the wall of glass.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Charles,” the reception clerk, Mario, called out to him from his desk. He was an older guy who had manned the building for as long as it had been standing, or so Trent had heard. Normally he was hard to rattle, but now he was wringing his hands. “I didn’t know if I should have called the cops?”

  Trent held up his hand and hunched his shoulders slightly as he neared the door. “It’s okay,” he grunted.

  Goddamned freedom of the goddamned press. Today of all days Trent just wanted to hide away from the world. But his hangover hadn’t dissipated from that morning and he’d gotten a craving for one of Java Jem’s hazelnut brews. He couldn’t make them in his apartment with his own machine and the shop didn’t deliver.

  Besides, if he turned around now, that would be letting those jackals win.

  He tried to make himself look smaller as he released the door lock and stepped out onto the sidewalk. A difficult task at six foot three and two hundred and thirty pounds. But he dropped his head and let his shoulder-length hair cover his face as much as possible.

  “TJ! TJ!” they bayed. There had to be two dozen guys flocking around him. The cameras were going off in a dazzling, continuous stream of flashes.

  “TJ! Are the rumors about you and Elsie Hadden true?”

  “When’s the baby due, TJ?”

  Baby? What baby? Trent tried his best not to shake his head. He just kept his gaze down and continued walking as they moved with him like a swarm of wasps. He’d discovered over his years of rising fame that the best thing to do was to ignore the shit the paparazzi spewed as much as possible.

  He didn’t want to be ungrateful for his achievements. So many people would give anything to be in his position. Not only a successful five years with one of the hottest boy bands on the planet, but then an action movie career that was only getting bigger. But with it came the bat-shit crazy lies which blogs and magazines were willing to print in order to get sales and views.

  Trent hadn’t even seen Elsie in years. They’d maybe crossed paths at a couple of awards ceremonies and parties. But generally, she moved in the music industry circles still, while he’d switched to the insane world of Hollywood.

  Yeah, there had been that one time in New York in the bathroom of that club. And the weekend in Miami. But they’d never really been a thing. Much like most of Trent’s lady friends, things had fizzled out before they’d ever gotten serious. Why were the paps bringing her up again now?

  “How long have you been back together?”

  “What does Penny have to say about it?”

  Penny was yet another nice girl who had eventually gotten bored of Trent’s lack of commitment and moved on. The press had liked her with Trent because she was an Instagram star and had a fitness program. Seeing her with a reprobate who apparently never stopped drinking made for a controversial visual, even if he was ripped.

  She was better off without him. Trent was happy for her and her new guy.

  Flash! Flash! Flash!

  Trent was going to trip on the sidewalk if he wasn’t careful. It was taking forever just to make a five-minute walk to the damn coffeehouse. He was going to have to buy a whole box of pastries as well to make this journey worth it. At least he could give one to Mario to try and apologize for making his night awkward by blocking the front of his building. Again. Trent was fully aware he wasn’t the only tenant there.

  “When’s the baby due, TJ?”

  “Are you guys going to get married?”

  “What do you say to the rumors it’s actually Reyse Hickson’s?”

  Trent snorted inwardly. His former bandmate fathering any babies would be news indeed. But it wasn’t true. Trent knew that for a fact.

  “Will you petition for custody?”

  “TJ? TJ!”

  This was stupid. If he didn’t answer them, the truth would come out eventually, and the story would die out in a week. Because Trent would know for damn sure if he was the father of a baby. He’d never be that reckless. But it still grated that he couldn’t defend himself.

  “Do
n’t you feel bad letting Elsie go through this all alone? Don’t you feel you should be responsible, TJ?”

  Trent risked a quick glance up to identify one of his most loathed regular stalkers. Scraggly goatee, navy baseball cap and thick black glasses. Dez Starr, self-proclaimed seeker of truth and justice. He’d say about anything to get a rise out of a famous face, then sell the photos to the highest bidder. Trent definitely needed to keep his mouth shut.

  “TJ, look this way!”

  “Did you plan on knocking her up, TJ?”

  “Is the baby an accident?”

  “Will you fight Hicks in court if he claims the baby as his?”

  “Are you a homewrecker, TJ?” Dez called out.

  The coffeeshop was in sight. Trent was so tempted to give these guys the double finger once he got there. But he’d only have to face them once he came out again to walk home. His manager had all but threatened him with castration if he caused any more trouble before they officially signed the contract for Fixer 2.

  So he’d be a good boy for once and just keep walking. He already had enough on his mind that night. Once his coffee had straightened out his hangover, he fully intended on washing away any remaining thoughts with a serious amount of whiskey.

  But of course, Dez wasn’t going to let that happen.

  “What would your mom say if she knew you’d knocked up a girl, TJ?” Dez asked. There was a nasty glint in his eyes. “Probably a good thing she’s dead. Otherwise, the shame might kill her all over again.”

  Trent didn’t even hesitate. It was like he disconnected from his body. He had no power to stop the fist that came flying up and punched Dez Starr right between the eyes, snapping his glasses in two, knocking his hat off and sending him crashing to the ground.

  The camera flashes became a wall of light as Trent blinked back to his senses. He couldn’t decipher a single question out of the dozens of voices now bellowing at him. He looked down at Dez who had plastered the perfect look of shock and horror onto his face.

  “He hit me!” he cried, fumbling for his camera and his wayward baseball cap.

  His voice sounded close to cracking as he pointed at Trent with a shaking hand. Then he scrambled backward, as if Trent was at risk of kicking him while he was still sprawled on the sidewalk. The other guys loved that. They were taking as many photos of Dez as they were Trent now. Trent, who was famous for portraying barbarians and hitmen and quarterbacks. And Dez, who looked like he’d weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet.

  Trent had messed up, big-time. He needed to get out of there right away. But before he could make his feet move, the blip of a police siren alerted them to a squad car pulling up to the curb.

  No, no, this couldn’t be happening.

  “Dez,” one of the paps cried. “Are you going to press charges?”

  “Is your nose broken, Dez?”

  “TJ, do you hit Elsie like that?”

  “Do you like to hit women, TJ?”

  “What would you mom say about that, TJ?”

  Trent grit his teeth, forcing down the rage that threatened to spill out. If he didn’t behave, he would lose everything. That bastard had known what the date was and asked that question about his mom on purpose. Lashing out any further would only give him what he wanted.

  So Trent just had to swallow it when the two cops got out of the car and the paps parted to let them through to cuff him. He closed his eyes as they read him his Miranda rights, cursing his stupidity.

  How the fuck was he going to get out of this one?

  2

  Ashby

  Ashby no longer knew what time zone he was in, other than he had apparently been awake for half of his life.

  He groaned and tried to stretch his long legs in the confines of the premium economy seat and cursed his past self. Why did he always do this? There was nothing noble about opting out of first class. Yes, he was convinced it was a ridiculous amount of money to waste on a flight he was probably going to sleep through. But then whenever he was actually on that flight, he remembered he was more giraffe than human and ended up too miserable to sleep.

  Still, at least this was the last leg of his journey. The real hardship had been traveling from London to Chicago. His layover at O’Hare had been mercifully short and now he just had to get through a couple more hours until they landed at Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

  The name didn’t exactly inspire confidence. But Ashby pulled at his slender fingers and reminded himself that this wasn’t some luxury getaway. The whole point was to disappear from the world for a while, and he could hardly do that at a popular resort during the ski season, even if it was the tail end.

  If he’d wanted hot guys and parties he would have taken himself off to Aspen or the Alps. He would probably have flown first class while he was at it. But the whole point of booking last minute was to slip away somewhere quiet. Somewhere no one would think to come looking for him.

  The Grand Resort in western Wyoming was a peaceful little place tucked away near the bottom of Yellowstone Park. It wasn’t really renowned for anything other than being quiet, which was exactly what Ashby was craving. It had a spa for a bit of pampering and beginners’ slopes if he felt like doing something crazy. Other than that, he was going to take a break from everything aside from a few good books.

  All he needed was a log fire to read by and a bar that served hot chocolate during the day and drinkable wine in the evenings. No Michelin star restaurants or luxury apartments. Ashby wasn’t going to be sharing a bed, so as long as he had somewhere to sleep at night, he would do just fine.

  He sighed and reached down to his carryon to fish out his phone from where he’d stored it. It was on airplane mode, naturally, so the battery had lasted all this time. But Ashby had promised he would do this before they landed and he only had an hour or so to go.

  Bracing himself, he unlocked the screen.

  Well, the first thing that had to go was the wallpaper photo of him and Gordon hugging on the beach. That had been a long time ago.

  Before Gordon had cheated.

  Ashby swallowed the lump in his throat and refused to cry again. It was for the best. He’d known for a long time that he and Gordon weren’t happy, that they weren’t right for each other. He just couldn’t believe it was finally over.

  He deleted the photo entirely, squeezing his eyes shut as he pressed the little ‘Yes’ square. No point in keeping it in an album. Looking at pictures of when he thought he was happy would only make him feel sad. When the truth was, as that collection of pixels vanished, he remembered how free he was now.

  He let out a little laugh, grateful that his neighbor was too engrossed in a film to notice. He’d known for almost a year that he wasn’t really in love with Gordon. They had been together for two years in total, Ashby’s longest relationship to date. But the cheating had given him the courage to finally end it. And here he was, crossing the Atlantic Ocean to mark the start of his new life.

  Fuck, he was terrified.

  “Um, excuse me,” he said to the flight attendant as she passed.

  She turned and beamed at him. “Why, don’t you have the most adorable accent?” she said with a tinkling laugh. “Are you from England?”

  Ashby blushed. “Well, I’m from all over really, but my father is English and I live in Chelsea, South West London now.”

  “Isn’t that just wonderful?” said the young lady. “Keep talking. I love it.”

  Working on a small, local airline, she probably didn’t get nearly as many Brits flying as Americans. She had shiny red hair tied in a neat knot and a smattering of freckles which made her look younger than she probably was. Ashby immediately felt comforted by her winning smile.

  “I’ll be happy to say anything you like in return for a gin and tonic,” he said, clasping his hands together. “How about aluminium? Oregano? Or, oh! Caribbean.”

  She giggled over his strange pronunciations. “Oh, for that, hon, you can have a double.”

  Ashby smiled
and tried not to let his melancholy creep back in. “A double sounds marvelous right about now.”

  Her returning smile suggested she picked up that he wasn’t quite feeling his best. She winked and lightly tapped his shoulder. “I’ll be right back with your drink. You just sit tight.”

  Ashby was being silly. This was for the best. It was what he wanted. He had been the one to put his foot down and end the relationship once and for all. He had forgiven Gordon for many things. But finding those messages on his phone from Dan or Sam or whatever the hell his name had been was the final push Ashby had needed. He was worth more than being messed around on. No matter what his doubts, Ashby had to believe that much.

  So he made sure to keep taking deep breaths in and out and he cleared his inbox. He didn’t want to see Gordon’s name anywhere. In fact, Ashby would block him altogether to stop him from continuing his harassment. Gordon didn’t love him. He was just pissed off that Ashby was defying him and walking away.

  Every little thing he got rid of made Ashby feel that tiny bit better. He wasn’t used to being alone. Actually, the prospect of being responsible and making decisions for everything by himself sounded god awful. But it was better than being undermined and second-guessed at every turn.

  The flight attendant returned with his gin and gave him such a warm smile. It fortified Ashby enough to start the daunting task of deleting his photos. There were so many that gave him pangs. But every time he paused and asked himself if it would be okay to keep just this one, he remained strong. Yes, there were many nice photos of the two of them. But that period in his life was over now.

  By the time the wheels touched down in Wyoming, Ashby’s phone was sparse but healthy looking. As far as he could tell, all trace of Gordon was gone. The fact that there was so little left of Ashby’s life on the device showed how much he had allowed his ex-boyfriend to dominate everything before.