by Ana Ashley
Finding You
The Complete Box Set
Ana Ashley
Contents
Home Again
1. David/Joel
2. Joel
3. David
4. Joel
5. David
6. Joel
7. David
8. Joel
9. David
10. Joel
11. David
12. Joel
13. David
14. Joel
15. David
16. Joel
17. David
18. Joel
19. David
20. Joel
21. David
22. Joel
23. David
24. Joel
25. David
26. Joel
27. David
Bonus Scene
Together Again
1. Isaac
2. Max
3. Isaac
4. Max
5. Isaac
6. Max
7. Isaac
8. Max
9. Isaac
10. Max
11. Isaac
12. Max
13. Isaac
14. Max
15. Isaac
16. Max
17. Isaac
18. Max
19. Isaac
20. Max
21. Isaac
22. Max
23. Isaac
24. Max
25. Isaac
26. Max
27. Isaac
28. Max
29. Isaac
30. Max
31. Isaac
32. Max
33. Isaac
34. Max
35. Isaac
36. Max
37. Isaac
38. Max
39. Isaac
40. Max
41. Isaac
42. Max
Bonus Scene
Love Again
1. Vítor
2. Tiago
3. Vítor
4. Tiago
5. Vítor
6. Tiago
7. Vítor
8. Tiago
9. Vítor
10. Tiago
11. Vítor
12. Tiago
13. Vítor
14. Tiago
15. Vítor
16. Tiago
17. Vítor
18. Tiago
19. Vítor
20. Tiago
21. Vítor
22. Tiago
23. Vítor
24. Tiago
25. Vítor
26. Tiago
Bonus Scene
Complete Again
1. Dorian
2. Jean-Paul
3. Dorian
4. Jean-Paul
5. Dorian
6. Jean-Paul
7. Dorian
8. Jean-Paul
9. Dorian
10. Jean-Paul
11. Dorian
12. Jean-Paul
13. Dorian
Also by Ana Ashley
About Ana
Home Again - Finding You Book 1
© 2020 by Ana Ashley
First Edition: April 2020
Previously published as Made in Portugal under the pen name Ana Newfolk.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Cover design: Rhys, Ethereal Designs
Editor: Alphabitz Editing
Together Again - Finding You Book 2
© 2020 by Ana Ashley
First Edition: May 2020
Previously published as Made in New York and Made in Manhattan, under the pen name Ana Newfolk.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Cover design: Rhys, Ethereal Designs
Editor: Victoria Milne
Love Again - Finding You Book 3
© 2020 by Ana Ashley
First Edition: May 2020
Previously published as Made in Lisbon, under the pen name Ana Newfolk.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Cover design: Rhys, Ethereal Designs
Editor: Victoria Milne
Complete Again - A Finding You Short Story
© 2020 by Ana Ashley
First Edition: September 2020
Previously published as Made in Paris, under the pen name Ana Newfolk.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Cover design: Rhys, Ethereal Designs
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopy, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Home Again, Together Again, Love Again, Complete Again, and the bonus scenes contained in this books are a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
To everyone who has given my writing a chance.
To everyone that has discovered that little country on the bottom left hand corner of Europe, and can’t wait to visit.
To everyone that loves custard tarts as much as I do, and even those who don’t.
Thank you so much from the bottom of my heart.
Ana
x
Home Again
Finding You Book 1
1
David/Joel
David
Portugal, August, twelve years ago.
All I could see from my current position, lying on my back on the beach towel with my eyes closed, was bright orange. I moved my eyes around under my eyelids, but it was the same all around, then there was a darker orange and brown for a moment until it was all bright orange again.
The sun was warm on my face, and I could feel the skin on my arms and legs tingling from the heat. Maybe we should go for a swim to cool down. While my tanned skin was used to the sun, I still didn’t want to burn.
My best friend Joel and I had spent most of the last six weeks on the beach. This particular spot was our favorite since it was the furthest away we could get from home on our own. Over the last two summers, our moms had allowed us to take the small train that carried people along the thirty kilometers of continuous beach. Those beaches were always a favorite with locals and tourists alike since it was just south of Lisbon on the other side of the river Tagus.
We always chose the last stop, thinking it was unlikely we’d run into anyone we knew. Not that we did anything other than sunbathe and swim, but there was something about the freedom of pretending we were old enough to be here on our own.
Joel lived in America, so at the beginning of his holidays here, we always met up with friends from school and others who lived near us, but after a while, we just ended up doing stuff on our own. By the end of his visits, we were virtually inseparable. It was as though we wanted to make as many memories to last the year until he would come back again. This was the cycle that we repeated summer after summer.
I opened my eyes only a little bit, the bright sunlight making my eyes water until I focused on the light blue color of the sky. There were no clouds, just blue, and all I could hear around us were the seagulls squawking in the distance and a soft giggle right next to me.
A face appeared in my line of sight, slightly blurry at first until my eyesight adjusted and zoned in on the sapphire deep blue eyes hovering over me. The same face, the same e
yes that, beginning tomorrow, I would no longer see every day, at least for another year.
“Don’t move!” Joel cried, putting a hand on my shoulder to hold me in place. His blond hair flopped into his eyes, sun-bleached and stuck together from the saltwater.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I’m building a seashell made of seashells on you,” he said as though it was an entirely natural thing to do. I must have been asleep earlier because I didn’t remember feeling him place anything on me, and we both knew there wasn’t a chance of me staying still long enough for that to happen.
I lifted my head slightly to see the shape of a seashell all over my flat stomach. The individual shell rings consisted of different color shells to make them distinct from each other. I was impressed.
“Joel, I need to move. I’m burning,” I said, trying to keep still so the shells didn’t fall off.
“But I haven’t finished yet.” Joel pouted like he used to do when we were little. His shiny blue eyes looked first at the shells and then at me, and a small, devilish smile appeared on his lips.
I knew what he was thinking, and he would have to catch me first. In a split second, the shells were falling off me as I got up to escape the tickling attack I knew he was planning. Joel jumped up after me and chased me in circles on the sand, trying to catch me.
“Let’s go in the water,” I said, out of breath.
“Okay,” Joel agreed. “How long do we have until we have to get back?” he asked, looking in the direction of the bag where we kept our phones.
“I think there’s enough time for a swim. We can walk for a bit while our shorts dry out and take the train back home at the next stop.”
Joel
New York, Present Day
The summer afternoon sun was shining brightly through my kitchen window, bringing out the colors of the drawings I had stuck on the fridge door. I found myself standing there remembering the class earlier this week when I told my students about where I came from, that small country in the southwest of Europe that everybody likes to confuse with Spain called Portugal.
"Mr. Peterson, what color is the sand in Portugal?"
"Have they got palm trees?"
"What about ice cream? Do they eat ice cream? Ice cream is my favorite. My mommy takes me to Dairy Queen and gets me a chocolate-dipped cone when I do all my homework."
I’d asked my young students to draw a picture of something they liked about Portugal based on the photos I had shown them in class. What I got was an array of weird and wonderful drawings that only the imagination of six-year-olds could conjure. Sandy beaches, castles, palm trees, sharks, and even pirates.
I loved teaching. It was a passion I knew I’d inherited from my dad, and looking at the work of my students made my heart swell with pride.
The intercom buzzed, bringing me back to the present.
What was I going to the fridge for? Oh yeah, food!
Max was coming over to get the spare key to the apartment, and I was sure he’d be hungry after his shift at the hospital.
"Time to get the coffee brewing,” I muttered to myself as I buzzed Max into the building.
Max had been my best friend from the moment we met after literally bumping into each other during my first week in my new American school. A school that turned out to be so different from what I’d been used to in Portugal.
Max's home life wasn't all that great, so he spent a lot of time at my house, becoming more of a family member than a friend. The only difference between us was that I loved reading and had a passion for languages, something else I got from my dad, while Max felt a pull toward medicine and helping people. When I started my Early Childhood studies, Max went to nursing college.
Our made-up family of four was pretty much perfect in my eyes all the way up to the day of the tragic accident that took both my parents last Christmas. Six months later, it still hit me hard in the chest every time I thought of the day I was told that I would never see my parents again and, more than anything, wouldn't be able to hug them and feel like I belonged somewhere.
"Hey, Joebug, what's up?" Max said, coming in and dropping his backpack in the hallway.
I got stuff out of the fridge to make a couple of sandwiches and ignored his use of the nickname he’d given me in high school.
"Ooh, is that chorizo in your hand, or are you happy to see me?" Max asked with a smirk and his eyebrows motioning up and down.
"Do you want coffee?" I asked, ignoring him.
"Hell, yeah. I feel like I've been put on the spin cycle of a washing machine and still came out dripping. I love my shifts in the ER, but, man, it’s hard work."
"Any interesting patients today?" My mom had worked in the emergency room in the same hospital with Max, and she always used to share her funniest patient stories. It became a tradition on our weekly catch-ups and was something I always looked forward to.
"This hot guy came in today with a kid who needed some stitches on his little finger. He looked so nervous, I thought he was going to faint at the sight of blood. Unfortunately, there was no need for mouth-to-mouth resuscitation." Max chuckled but then looked down and frowned.
He’d met someone last Christmas, and it seemed like it was the real deal for my friend, but the day he came to tell me about the guy he’d met was the same day we got the news about my parents. Once I’d recovered from the shock and grief, I tried to bring up the subject, but he refused to talk about it. I suspected he was nursing a broken heart and was being stubborn about it.
“You okay?” I asked. “Have you been on any dates recently?”
“Of course I have.” The indignation in his voice was clear. “I’m young, good looking, and smart. I can get all the ass I want.”
“You forgot to mention modest too.”
I finished making the sandwiches as the coffee maker was spewing its last drops of coffee into the pot. I loved the smell of coffee; it always reminded me of my grandmother’s house in Portugal.
I used to joke with my mom that the blood on her side of the family was fifty percent coffee. Of course, it had been a while since I’d walked into a house that had that familiar smell of a freshly made brew.
"Are you all set for the trip?" Max asked before taking a bite of his sandwich and bringing us back to the reason for his visit.
"Nearly. I'm all packed, and I've got the ashes with all the documentation." I looked down at my sandwich, well aware that wasn't what Max meant, but I was trying to avoid overthinking the reason for my trip.
"Joel,” he said, making me look straight at him, “how do you feel about going back? I know you're trying to avoid talking about it, but I'm worried about you."
"I'm not sure," I admitted. "I have amazing memories of my holidays in Portugal, and I'm looking forward to seeing my grandparents and my great-grandma again. I'm just nervous, I guess. What if they’re disappointed?"
"What makes you think that? Joebug, you are the best person I know. You are fun, caring, and the kids at school idolize you. I'm sure your family will love you too."
I sighed, almost convinced but still apprehensive. I hadn’t been back for so long.
“I don’t know. I just never thought the next time I'd see my family would be to scatter the ashes of both my parents. Before school started last year, Mom and I had spoken about going back together and making a family vacation out of it. Now, it'll be just me."
"Have you got any plans while you're out there and until I arrive?" Max asked with a wink. Trust him to change the subject to get me out of my mood.
"Nah, I am sure stuff will happen, though.” Once again I looked at the wall next to the fridge where there was a photo of my parents and me at Westhampton Beach, taken when I was only fifteen.
“They wanted their ashes scattered around the cliff behind the church where they got married. I was there once, and the place is beautiful. The landscape of the cliffs is striking; it’s no wonder they married there and chose it as their final resting place. I coul
dn't have picked a better place. Other than that, it's flexible. I might rent a car since I’m thinking I might like to travel a bit while I’m there.” I finished my sandwich and took a sip of coffee.
"What do you think the gay scene is like out there?” He leaned closer. “Joebug, I'm counting on you to check it out before I get there. We’re both in need of a good vacation fling to relieve the stress of city life. We need walks on the beach, kisses at sunset, and lube—Lots. Of. Lube,” he said, punctuating each of his last words.
