by Ari McKay
“I do,” Zach said softly, leaning into the caress. “If I don’t go now, you’ll find me packed in your luggage.” He captured Asher’s hand and pressed a kiss into his palm. “All right, I’m going. Have a safe flight, and good luck, and I’ll see you when you get back.”
“Thanks,” Asher said, squeezing Zach’s fingers. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Soon,” Zach agreed, then opened the door and stepped out of the apartment, resisting the urge to look back. He was old enough to not be acting like a teenager, but it was still hard to overcome the impulses to act like a giddy boy in love for the first time.
Now he had to go home and occupy himself until it was time to go to bed. It was Wednesday, and he had work the next day, so at least that would keep him busy until Asher’s return. He rode the elevator down to the lobby, then smiled at the guard before heading toward the building’s entrance. He stepped outside into a bitterly cold evening, and he was about to raise his hand to hail a cab when he realized he didn’t have his briefcase. He’d come to Asher’s apartment directly after work, as he’d done for the last three days, and he’d developed a habit of leaving his briefcase in Asher’s bedroom until they left for work in the morning.
“Damn.” Shaking his head in annoyance, he headed back inside, showing the guard his empty hands. “I would forget my head if it wasn’t attached,” he said, and the guard chuckled and waved him toward the elevators.
He didn’t want to have to part from Asher again, so he rang the bell and waited for Martha to answer. When she opened the door, he gave her a rueful smile. “I forgot my briefcase,” he admitted. “I don’t want Asher to know I’m back, though, so I’ll sneak to the bedroom and get it.”
“You boys,” Martha said, but she was smiling. She seemed to approve of his and Asher’s relationship, which was a good thing in Zach’s opinion, since Martha seemed to be a surrogate mother to Asher. Zach liked her, too, and he blew her a kiss as he hurried past her.
“Please don’t worry about letting me out. Go back to what you were doing, and I’ll make sure I lock the door,” he said, and when she nodded, he turned and headed quickly but silently toward the bedroom.
On his way, he passed Asher’s office, and he heard Asher on the phone.
“How soon can you get here?” Asher asked. “It’ll have to be quick. I’ve got a plane to catch.”
Zach wasn’t the type of person to eavesdrop on someone’s conversation, but something about the tone of Asher’s voice, low and urgent, caught his attention. A chill of foreboding went down his spine, and he stopped, wondering what Asher was so intent about needing that night. Paperwork, maybe? Or something else?
“I’ll pay double,” Asher continued, then chuckled in response to whatever the other person said. “No, you’re worth it, and I really want this to happen tonight before I leave.”
Zach put one hand over his mouth to stifle a moan of pain. It sounded as though Asher were arranging for an escort to come to his apartment, but Zach couldn’t believe it. Asher had changed from the man he was a month before… hadn’t he? Asher claimed Zach was all he needed, and Zach had been so careful to not be demanding, to be supportive without seeming needy or clingy, but maybe he’d done something wrong.
The feeling that Asher was arranging an assignation grew even stronger when Asher’s tone became a purr of satisfaction as whoever he was talking to apparently acquiesced to his request. With a “Good… I’ll see you soon!” Asher ended the call, and Zach turned and fled down the hall, desperately needing to get out of the apartment. If he didn’t leave now, he’d do something foolish like throw himself at Asher’s feet and beg Asher to say he wasn’t arranging an escort to pleasure him in the same bed where he and Zach had made love that very morning.
Zach left the apartment and punched the button on the elevator frantically, worried that Asher would find out he’d overheard the conversation. What would Asher do? Laugh? Beg him to understand? Deny everything? Zach didn’t want to know. Maybe he’d had been fooling himself all along and what he’d thought was real was only a case of wishful thinking. Or maybe Asher did want the stability and respectability of a long-term relationship, but still wanted the variety provided by a parade of different, hot young men in his bed whenever he could arrange it.
On the ride down to the lobby, Zach wanted to throw up. He couldn’t believe Asher would do this to him, but he couldn’t think of any other explanation for what he’d overheard. But whoever was meeting Asher was going to arrive soon, and Zach had to know.
He quickly pressed the button for the second floor before he could second-guess himself. When the elevator stopped he stepped out, then turned and headed for the stairwell, which exited via a door behind the desk where the guard sat in the lobby. He walked down to the first floor, then carefully cracked the door, peeking out to see the guard’s back only ten feet away. He’d rarely seen anyone take the stairs, so he wedged the tip of his shoe into the crack to hold the door open, then waited, heart pounding, unable to believe he’d sunk so low as to creep around like a stalker to see who was visiting Asher.
“This is stupid,” he told himself firmly, and yet he couldn’t force his hand to open the door so he could leave the building. Zach had been in plenty of trials where someone thought their significant other was cheating on them, and he knew logic and emotion often had little to do with each other. He’d never expected to find himself in a situation straight out of one of his cases, where he was the one who was trying to find out the truth and at the same time desperately praying his worst fears wouldn’t come true.
Please let the person be an old man, or someone from the firm, or even some woman, Zach found himself repeating silently. Please let it not be what I think it is.
“Hello, I’m here to see Mr. Asher Caldwell.”
The voice caught Zach by surprise. Whoever it was had arrived even more quickly than Zach expected. He peeked out of the stairwell, and his held breath escaped him in a low, pained moan. The man standing in front of the guard’s desk was tall, lean, and absolutely gorgeous. He was buff and blond, perhaps in his midthirties, and Zach had never seen him at Caldwell & Monroe.
“Are you Mr. Colin James?” the guard asked, consulting a tablet computer. Residents of the building could enter the names of expected visitors in an app to make it easier for the guards to verify who had legitimate access.
“That’s me,” the blond man confirmed. “Can I go up? I’ve brought something Mr. Caldwell is very anxious to have.”
“Oh, yes. Take the first elevator. I’ll send you right up,” the guard replied, and the blond headed to the elevator.
He was wearing a black leather jacket over jeans and expensive boots, but he carried no bag or briefcase. Whatever he had that Asher was eager to get, it had to be inside his clothes. And there was only one thing Zach could think of.
Zach let the door close and slumped against the wall, closing his eyes against the sharp pain stabbing him through the heart. His eyes burned, and he bit back a sob of complete despair. He didn’t know how long he stood there, but eventually he made himself move. He couldn’t give in to his pain here. Looking straight ahead, he left the building and turned in the direction of his own apartment over a mile away. He didn’t care about the cold, the wind, or the snow that swirled around him as he walked with his head down and shoulders slumped. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, emptying his mind and trying to ignore the empty hole in his heart.
When he reached his building, he went up to his apartment, fumbling for his keys with fingers that were numb with cold. His apartment was warm, but he didn’t take off his coat. He dropped onto the sofa and covered his eyes with one hand. He didn’t know what to do; he’d never felt this much pain in his life. Nothing and no one had ever hurt him so badly, and he wished the floor would open up and allow him to sink into oblivion.
He sat there, unable to do anything else. Then the ringing of the cell phone in his pocket startled him, and when
he pulled it out, he felt a fresh stab of pain. Asher was calling him to let him know he’d arrived in DC. Asher was safe, but Zach’s heart was breaking with the knowledge that he’d lost Asher anyway.
He didn’t answer; instead, he forced himself to get up and grab the keys for his SUV. There was really only one place for him to go where he could give in to his pain among people who loved him and would hold him and tell him things would be all right. The only place to go when you’re hurt, he thought, is home.
Chapter Nine
“SO, UH… if you could give me a call when you get this message, I’d appreciate it. I’ve got your briefcase, and…. Well, I’m getting worried about you. Please call me back and let me know you’re okay.”
Asher touched his phone to end the call and stared at Zach’s door, at a loss for what to do. He hadn’t thought much about it when Zach didn’t pick up the first night. Asher called to check in as promised, but he thought maybe Zach had gotten too sleepy to wait up for him after all. He’d called when he got off the plane in New York to see if Zach wanted to meet up so they could have dinner and a private reunion celebration, but again, the call had gone to voicemail. At that point, Asher was curious, but not concerned. Odds were high that Zach had to stay late at work and was too busy to pay attention to his phone. The firm always got slammed right before the holidays, so that could explain Zach’s silence.
It didn’t explain why Zach’s briefcase was still at Asher’s place, however. Why hadn’t Zach come by to pick it up?
Although Asher was tired from his whirlwind trip to DC, he’d dumped his suitcase, grabbed Zach’s briefcase, and called Parker. A knot of apprehension had formed in his stomach on the ride over to Zach’s apartment building, and it tightened when he knocked on the door and got no response.
He stood in the hall with his phone in one hand and the briefcase in the other, wondering what to do. Should he try to find someone to open the door? What if Zach was lying in there, hurt—or worse? Maybe he should go to the office and see if Zach was there first. That was the most rational explanation, he told himself firmly, trying to push all the worst-case scenarios out of his mind.
After tucking his phone into his pocket, he returned to the elevator and pressed the button, but when the doors opened, an older woman stepped off. He smiled as he moved out of her way, recognizing her as Zach’s neighbor across the hall, Mrs. Watson. They met when she came scurrying out to meet Zach’s “new friend” one of the few times they had gone to Zach’s place for the evening rather than Asher’s. According to Zach, she was retired and had little to do but serve as the receptionist of the apartment building.
“Hi, Mrs. Watson. I don’t suppose you’ve seen Zach today?” he asked, hoping he could use the grapevine to his advantage.
“No, I haven’t seen him since he took off last night. His door closing woke me up, so naturally I had to make sure everything was okay,” she replied.
“Naturally,” Asher said dryly. “Do you have any idea where he was going?”
“No, but wherever he went, he packed light. I didn’t see him carrying a suitcase.”
The elevator doors were about to close, so Asher shot his arm out to keep them open. “Thanks. If you see him, will you tell him I stopped by?”
“I’d be glad to.”
She waved and continued down the hall, and Asher entered the elevator, feeling more uneasy than before. It wasn’t like Zach to stay out all night, and if he’d been called out of town, surely he would have taken some luggage. Maybe he went to his parents’ house? But no, that would still require at least an overnight bag.
The situation was becoming more confusing—and more frightening. What if Zach had gone to meet some friends and had gotten mugged? What if he’d gotten in a wreck? He could be in the hospital or even the morgue right now, and Asher wouldn’t even know it.
Once he was settled in the back seat of his car again, he pulled out his phone. There was one more thing he could try. He opened up the text message app and typed a quick note.
I just stopped by your place to drop off your briefcase, but you weren’t there. I called and left a couple of messages too. I’m getting worried, so please give me a call when you get this and let me know you’re okay.
He hit Send and waited until the “delivered” note popped up under his text. He’d give it an hour or so, and if “delivered” didn’t change to “read,” he’d start making some calls and get serious about finding Zach. He forced himself not to check his phone during the ride home, but once he was out of the car and heading into the building, he couldn’t hold out any longer.
“Delivered” had changed to “read.”
Relief washed over him at that. Wherever he was, Zach had his phone, and since it was password protected, only he could have seen the message. Zach was okay.
Asher hoped that meant Zach would call him soon, so he kept his phone close—okay, he kept it in his hand—while he puttered around the house, killing time while he waited for Zach’s call. He’d admit he’d gotten worried enough to consider calling the police, and Zach would laugh and assure him everything was fine. But minutes turned into over an hour, and Zach didn’t call or reply to the text, not even a quick “I’m fine.” Just silence.
Did Zach not want to talk to him? Asher tried to think of anything that might have happened to upset Zach, but he couldn’t. As far as he could tell, everything had been fine when he left. Zach had been his normal affectionate self.
Had something happened while Asher was away? Maybe Zach’s parents had expressed their disapproval of him? Or Zach’s friends had tried to dissuade him from dating Asher? But why would they do that? As far as Asher knew, he had a reputation for being a workaholic but not a jerk, and Zach didn’t say anything about Asher making a bad impression on his parents.
So what had happened? Had Asher done something? Said something? But he couldn’t imagine what it might have been. He hadn’t even talked to Zach since he left, and he didn’t think anything in his messages could have upset Zach.
Maybe being away from Asher for a while made Zach realize he didn’t want to deal with Asher’s family-related baggage. Maybe Asher was still too much of a workaholic for him. Maybe Asher wanted too much from him too quickly, and he’d cut and run to put some distance between them.
Asher poured himself some bourbon and slumped on the couch, but even the bourbon couldn’t warm the cold emptiness he felt inside. He tossed his phone on the coffee table. It wasn’t going to ring, and he didn’t want to look at it anymore.
If Zach didn’t want to talk to him, then he wouldn’t bother calling or texting again. He’d gotten the message loud and clear without Zach ever saying a word.
Chapter Ten
“ARE YOU going to tell me what’s going on? Or am I going to have to play twenty questions with you like I did when you were five?”
Zach looked at his mother, who was busy baking cakes for the neighbors. Christmas was Sunday, and she always tried to deliver them by Christmas Eve.
Today was Friday, the day of the Caldwell & Monroe Christmas party, and Zach was sitting at the island of his parents’ kitchen, after having arrived in the wee hours on Thursday morning before anyone was awake. He’d gone immediately to his room, and it wasn’t until a few hours later that someone noticed his car in the driveway and knocked on his door.
Zach had begged off answering any questions, claiming to have a headache, which was true. His heart hurt much worse, but he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. He needed some time to process everything and figure out what he was going to do—other than lie in bed and moan in pain, which he’d already done.
He managed to get through Thursday, although he felt a fresh surge of pain when Asher texted him. He knew Asher had tried to call, but he shut his ringer off and ignored the voicemail, because hearing Asher’s voice would make him break down again. But he read the text, and resisted the urge to reply, afraid he’d say too much. He didn’t know what he was going to say, but it
wasn’t going to be over the phone or via a text message. No, he’d speak to Asher face-to-face, once he had himself in hand and could do so without breaking down.
His family left him alone, although they watched him with concern in their eyes when he emerged to go to the bathroom. Even Mikey looked worried, and Zach knew he’d have to tell them something soon.
He woke up Friday morning and made his way to the kitchen to find only his mother. The rest of the family was driving down to Philadelphia to pick up Grandma Richardson. She always spent the holiday with them, but someone had to go and get her. Apparently this year, everyone had gone except his mother, and it wasn’t hard to guess why. She must have decided it was time to get to the bottom of his strange behavior.
“It’s Asher,” he admitted, lowering his gaze to the plate of bacon and toast she’d placed in front of him when he entered the kitchen. He’d nibbled a bit of the toast and sipped at the glass of orange juice she’d poured him, but he still didn’t have an appetite.
“I had guessed that much on my own,” she said, taking a seat on the stool next to him. She picked up his hand and squeezed it gently. “Did you two break up?”
Zach shook his head and clung to her hand the way he’d done as a child when he was scared or upset. “Not yet,” he admitted. “But I think it’s a formality at this point.”
“You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to,” she said, “but it might help you to figure it all out.”
He didn’t want to tell his mother exactly what happened, but he knew she was right, and she had always been able to help him to think about things in a different way. “Before we got together, Asher was different. Obsessed with work and totally averse to commitment. He doesn’t want to be like his father, who’s a womanizer. I thought things were going great between us and Asher was overcoming his issues. I haven’t pushed. But something happened to make me believe he’s more like his father than he thinks.”
