“What? Oh yeah. It’s fine. I’d almost forgotten about it to be honest.”
“Must’ve been the great medical care you received.”
Ash chuckled, a low, comforting sound in Drew’s ear. “Of course. What else could it be?”
Drew stretched out on his sofa, a cooking show playing on the television as background noise. Domino lay curled up at his feet. Just another thrilling night at Chez Klein.
“Well if you’re satisfied with our service, please tip your doctor. Seriously, though, I’m glad it’s okay.” He was about to say goodbye, when Ash interrupted.
“Stevie North never showed up today. I waited until six tonight hoping but…”
Alarmed, Drew sat up. “Do you think something happened to him? Should we call someone?” He feared for that boy and knew Ash had taken a personal interest in his welfare.
“Javier went to look for him; he thought he knew where to look. I think he feels protective of Stevie. Not too long ago, Javier was in the same position as Stevie, but Javier could take care of himself. Stevie is more at risk.”
Recklessly, Drew asked, “Is that how you feel? Protective of Stevie? Does he remind you of someone from your past?” He held his breath, expecting Ash to curse him out and hang up.
“My past is something best forgotten. I try not to think about it.”
With the phone tucked under his ear, Drew lay back down on the sofa. “I know the feeling. I try not to think too hard about my parents because it makes me sad. But then I remember good times we had. Like my father taking me to the Rockaways to fish off the piers…” His eyes burned. “If I stop remembering I’ll forget they ever existed. I can’t let myself do that.”
“We used to go fishing in the pond down the road from us,” Ash blurted out.
The elusive Southern drawl that came and went like the ebb and flow of the ocean intrigued Drew. “You lived in the country?”
“Yeah. A real small town with even smaller minds. The only times we had to call our own was during the summer when we could spend the whole day fishing and swimming and picking berries. I’d catch the fish and we’d clean it then cook it along with the corn on the cob we’d swipe from the McAllisters’ farm. Damn. I haven’t thought about that in years.”
To Drew it sounded idyllic.
“We’d grill our fish, too.” Drew remembered his mother protesting having to clean and gut the fish but she didn’t mean it. It was all done in their good-natured teasing way. “My dad would put on a big white chef’s hat and stand over the barbecue pretending to swat at us if we tried to open it up to see it cooking.”
“I never knew my father, or my mother for that matter. When I was little, I hoped they’d show up and say it was all a mistake and bring me home to stay with them. When I finally realized that wouldn’t be happening, I’d grown old enough not to care.”
Talking to Ash tonight gave Drew insight into his life before he came to New York and without asking, Drew knew Ash had never told anyone else these stories before. The trust Ash gave him in speaking from the heart was a gift Drew would hold close and cherish.
“It doesn’t sound like you had much fun growing up.” Drew chose his words with caution.
“Fun wasn’t a word heard often in my house.” The cold hard tone of Ash’s voice sent a shiver through Drew.
“It’s why you relate so well to Stevie isn’t it? You see a little bit of yourself in him. Am I right?”
He held in a breath, shocked at himself for daring to ask Ash such a personal question. Not surprisingly, he and Ash had grown closer working at the clinic over the past few weeks, but Drew knew little more about Ash than when they’d first met.
“This isn’t about me. It’s about these kids. And there’s something I need to talk to you about that I found out tonight when I stayed late waiting for Stevie to show up.”
Not surprised at how deftly Ash shifted the discussion away from his personal life, Drew found himself curious as to what Ash had to say. “What is it?”
“Did you know Marly has to walk home by herself every night? She says she doesn’t mind, but if Javier isn’t there to walk with her, she does it alone. That’s unacceptable, Drew.”
Appalled, Drew jumped off the sofa to pace the living room. “I had no idea; you’re right, that’s awful. Of course she shouldn’t walk home by herself. I’ll go with her.”
“That’s not the best solution either. Both of you will be easy targets. I think you should send her home in a car and have the clinic pick up the tab.”
Drew considered Ash’s suggestion and decided it had merit. “That’s a wonderful idea. I don’t know why we didn’t think of it. He stopped and leaned against the wall. “Thanks, we’ll put it in place immediately.”
“Good. I’ll be in tomorrow to see if Stevie shows up. Night, Drew.”
Ash hung up, leaving Drew staring at the dead phone, once again, no closer to understanding him than before. Who was Ash Davis and why did Drew need to know?
Five o’clock arrived and Ash once again sat in his office at the clinic waiting for Stevie North to arrive. All day he played the game of “Will he or won’t he?” and he decided if Stevie failed to show again today, he’d go to his house and make sure everything was all right. He heard a hesitant tap on the door. “Come on in.” The door opened, framing Stevie’s slender body. At fifteen he had yet to acquire any height, bulk, or facial hair. He looked as smooth as a twelve-year-old.
“Hey, kiddo, come on in.” He smiled at the young boy, noting with a fury he’d learned to keep well hidden, the boy’s swollen lips and the bruises that peeked out on his neck from underneath his longish brown hair. “You had a rough time of it?”
Stevie’s face reddened as he stared at the floor and nodded. “I tried, Mr. Davis. I tried to tell them no, and that I would call the police, but they laughed at me. Said all faggots wanted it, even when we said no.”
“Stevie, this can’t go on. Those boys have to be stopped, or they’re going to hurt you worse each time.” Ash came from around the desk to sit in the chair next to Stevie.
“I can’t tell no one. Don’t you understand?” Stevie raised his big brown eyes to Ash, whose heart was breaking. “They’ll hurt me even more. Jimmy’s gonna go off to the army soon, so that’ll leave only Donny. He’s gentle and doesn’t hurt me.” Stevie’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “He tells Jimmy to stop when he gets too crazy.”
Ash put his hand on Stevie’s shoulder. “Do you like Donny?”
After a moment, Stevie gave a little shrug. “He’s okay.”
“Hey, kiddo, don’t worry. Maybe I can talk to him—”
“No. You can’t. I can’t have anyone know I was here. If they ever found out…” Stevie shuddered. “I think Jimmy might kill me.”
“And your parents?” Ash’s lips curled at those words. How oblivious were these fucking people? “Don’t your foster parents have anything to say? Don’t they care?”
Stevie nodded his head. “No, you don’t get it. They’re really nice to me, and Mrs. Harding especially helps me with my homework and everything, but I can’t tell her what goes on, ’cause Jimmy will beat me up.” He tucked his hair behind his ears. “I don’t want to get sent away. I’ve been there since I was a kid.” He sniffled. “She’s the only mom I’ve ever known.”
Big, sad brown eyes locked with his. “I’m so scared, Mr. Davis. Why is this happening to me? Why can’t they leave me alone? I wish I had a brother at home to talk to or help me.”
At one time Ash was that kind of brother. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his brothers. Before he’d fucked everything up and ran away. Before he became the selfish prick he grew up to be. “If you let me contact child services, I can help you, Stevie. You should let me call the cops.”
“I-I don’t know. I gotta think about it. I’m still afraid that if I report it, Jimmy will find out.” Stevie checked his cheap plastic watch. “Oh shit, I better go or I’ll be late.” He jumped up, got to the
opened door, and turned. “Thanks, Mr. Davis. I’ll think about what you said and see you next week, all right?” He gave a small yet hopeful smile.
Ash stood and drew the boy into a hug. His skinny shoulders poked out like the fragile wings of a baby bird. How soon before they were permanently broken? “I’m always here for you if you need me. Here’s my card with my cell phone. Call me anytime. I mean it.” He took out his wallet and gave Stevie his card, which he was happy to see went into the boy’s wallet. “Bye, kiddo.”
Stevie waved and hurried out of the room. Ash, totally drained, returned to sit, all but collapsing from the emotional struggle within him. No matter what Stevie said, he was going to talk to Drew. Maybe Jordan’s partner, the detective, could help. They had an obligation to report it, but they had to keep Stevie’s name out of it. That poor, poor kid.
Without warning, it hit him, staggering him with its intensity. Himself at fourteen, helpless in his bed late at night, as his “father” cuffed him to the bedpost, blindfolded him, then touched him all over, kissing him, thrusting first his thick tongue in his mouth, then his thick cock everywhere else. His first kiss, a brutal memory. Any thought of hope or love, destroyed forever by the acts of violence against him. Since then, no man had ever kissed or fucked him. Sex was never about love; it was power and control.
“No, no.” He groaned out loud as he rocked back and forth, helpless to stop the tidal wave of emotion crashing over him. Memories flooded through him of his own degradation and exploitation by adults who should have been protecting him, nurturing and caring for him. He couldn’t shake off the fact that he’d left the other boys behind. He’d tried to report what was happening in his house when he ran away, but he knew they wouldn’t take him, a gay kid from the street, seriously. Not against a respected police officer. He was as bad or worse than his foster father, leaving them there, but he couldn’t stay or he’d have ended up killing himself. “Stop, stop it.” The tears fell unchecked as he hunched within himself, shaking and moaning. “I’m sorry. I tried. I’m so, so sorry.”
Warm, strong arms encircled him. Without thinking, he grabbed on to the person and held him tight, burying his face into a hard chest. Confused, he lifted his head and met the equally bewildered gaze of Drew.
Chapter Ten
Today had been one hard, long-ass day. Mike had performed magic on the teeth and jaw of a sixteen-year-old who’d been beaten in a schoolyard brawl, simply because she came out as gay. Just because they lived in New York City didn’t mean the people weren’t as prejudiced and homophobic as any other place. Ignorance existed everywhere.
Flexing his fingers, Drew stretched his arms over his head, feeling the kinks unwind from his back. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. The day had been spent patching up scrapes, stitching up gashes, and getting at least two teens to talk to Keith about pressing charges. Drew managed to coax out of one young man that his injuries were caused by a stepfather who thought he could beat the gay out of him. That reminded Drew. He wanted to speak with Ash about the legal process they might have to face if they did decide to go forward with prosecution. A noise from the hallway caught his attention, and glancing at the clock, he frowned. Six o’clock. Everyone should’ve been gone already.
He got up from his seat and peered out into the hallway. Spying the receding back of young Stevie North, he shook his head. There was a young man with troubles, and he’d latched on to Ash for some reason. Drew heard a moan further down the hallway then a rhythmic squeaking noise. Fearful of what he might find, Drew sprinted toward Ash’s office. He stopped short outside the open door, staring in amazement and consternation.
Clutching himself, tears pouring down his face, Ash sat on the loveseat, in the middle of a full-fledged meltdown of some sort. This wasn’t something Drew had expected to see.
“Ash, what’s wrong?”
No answer. Ash continued to rock, oblivious to Drew’s presence.
His natural instinct to help taking over, Drew entered and sat down next to Ash, taking him into his arms, as if he were a child in need of comfort.
“No, I can’t…”
“Shhh, it’s going to be fine.” Without thinking, Drew pulled Ash in tightly, murmuring soothing, crooning nonsense words. Ash stiffened only a second before burying his face in Drew’s chest, the tears soaking through his shirt.
Stunned by the overwhelming emotional connection that flowed between the two of them, Drew froze. Holding Ash felt as natural as breathing. Their eyes met and the veneer of arrogant confidence Ash walled himself up behind peeled away, revealing a broken, frightened man. Drew pressed his lips to Ash’s damp, head.
“Let it go. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Nothing can hurt you anymore.”
Drew rubbed his broad back, feeling the muscles shift beneath his hands. With the tips of his fingers, he pressed and circled Ash’s tense shoulders, and Drew closed his eyes, hopeful his touch brought some comfort.
Without realizing it, however, his lips had moved from Ash’s hair to his forehead, resting on the warm skin. He trailed his fingers down Ash’s cheek, the roughened stubble strange yet fascinating under his fingertips. A slow ache built inside Drew, along with a shocking need to protect this man and keep him safe. Drew could feel his pain; it was a visceral thing, alive and breathing within Ash. He explored Ash’s face, tracing the slant of his cheekbones and the hollows of his eyes. Ash’s mouth remained pressed against his chest, his breath fanning out in short, hurting gasps.
Why this man? These strange emotions swirling inside him forced Drew to question himself and be more cautious around Ash than he might have been with someone else. These past few weeks he and Ash had grown close, spending long hours setting up the clinic and working together, often having dinner if they both stayed late. He believed they’d become friends; Drew genuinely cared about Ash. To his great shock, after their first visit together, Ash had visited his grandmother on his own, a piece of information Esther had been only too happy to tell him.
Not once in their talks, though, had Ash revealed anything about himself, even though Drew knew without being told something terrible had happened to him as a child. When he’d spoken to Peter about it, his friend shook his head.
“Ash is my friend, Drew. What’s even more important is that he considers me to be his friend, and God knows he has no one in his life he can count on. I’d never betray a confidence of his.” Peter had raked his hand through his hair, looking exasperated. “Hell, I don’t even know half of what he’s lived through, but I assure you, it wasn’t pretty. If he wants to talk to you about it, he will.”
Shudders still rippled through Ash’s body. What horrors had he seen forcing him to live such a withdrawn and lonely life? The memory of that night in the restaurant hit Drew as he recalled Ash running from the table, returning pale and shaken a while later. Was this the same thing? Did he have some kind of post-traumatic stress disorder that triggered at certain events or times? He’d talk to Rachel about it. Maybe she would know.
“Hey. How’re you doing?” He smoothed Ash’s hair back from his face, keeping his touch light and gentle. “Feeling better?”
Ash shook his head, still pressed against Drew’s chest. “This has never happened to me before and I’m mortified. I never meant for you or anyone to see me like this.” His words came out somewhat muffled, but he made no move to pull away from Drew’s embrace.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone has a breaking point. I was a basket case when my parents died. I cried for weeks.”
“Different,” Ash mumbled. “You couldn’t help yourself. This was my fault. By now I should be strong, able to handle myself.”
Without thinking, Drew took Ash’s face between his hands, staring deep into his fathomless eyes. “Not everything that happens to us is within our control, my friend. Sometimes life gives us a swift kick in the ass, and we have to do the best we can with what we’re given.” He bent down but caught himself right before his lips made contact wit
h Ash’s bristly cheek. Drew remained suspended there for a moment, feeling the sharp inhalation of Ash’s breath, sensing his anxiety, his body tense and coiled tight. Ash had closed his eyes, his long black lashes resting like fans on his skin. With the lightest touch, Drew caressed Ash’s face.
“Drew, what are you doing?” But Ash made no move to draw away.
“Damned if I know.” But Drew didn’t stop trailing his fingertips over Ash’s jaw, feeling the tiny ripples flow over his skin.
Ironically Ash pulled away from him. “What’s happening here?”
“Why don’t you tell me? I walked in, and you were suffering. I’ve never seen anyone so broken and hurt.” Drew put his hands on Ash’s shoulders. “Don’t turn away from me. We’re friends now. Talk to me.”
“I-I can’t.” His gaze remained pinned to the floor.
With a resigned sigh, Drew moved back. “What are you doing tonight?”
That clear, glittering gaze lifted to meet his. A small grin quirked Ash’s lips. “I have no plans, Doc. What were you thinking?”
“Get your mind out of the gutter. Want to visit my grandmother with me?”
To his utter surprise, Ash’s eyes lit up with a pleased glint. “I’d love to see Esther. I promised her some cookies the next time I came, so we’ll need to stop at a bakery.”
What an amazing transformation. In what Drew knew must be some kind of survival technique Ash employed to get him through the embarrassment of breaking down in front of someone, the man effortlessly shifted gears, slipping back into his charming, careless personality. Drew decided not to press the issue, thinking when and if Ash wanted him to know, he would tell him.
“Great. Everyone else is gone. I’ll lock up the offices and meet you in front.”
“Sure. And Doc?” Ash’s eyes glimmered for a moment with emotion, then reverted back to their normal, blank façade. “Thanks for everything.”
Desperate to keep it light, still unsure of his own strange feelings, Drew cracked a smile and shrugged. “Sure. No big deal.”
A Walk Through Fire Page 9
