After the Fire

by Felice Stevens

  Ash’s eyes looked like holes in his white face. “I—”

  “No. Not you. Me, Ash. This has nothing to do with you. I was the one left in a hospital, not even eighteen, abandoned, alone with no one who cared. I was so fucking scared. Everyone and everything I knew had been ripped out from under me, and I had no idea what I was going to do or where I would even live. I had no money, no home. Nothing.”

  The humiliation of those days came rushing back on him. The first place he’d gone to after sneaking out and running away from the hospital was the only place he remembered as home. The social workers at the hospital had to be wrong; the Munson’s couldn’t have left. But it was true; the house sat dark and abandoned. The Munsons and Brandon had vanished without leaving a trace of where they might’ve gone. He’d sat on the broken-down steps of the wooden porch and cried like a baby. After a while he’d wiped his eyes and his nose, and with everything he owned in his backpack, he’d headed down the road to the highway. And as he walked, he’d left himself behind. Lucas Carini was no more. Luke Conover, a name he picked from a phone book, was born. And that person would never get hurt, would never care about anything except making sure no one would ever hurt him again.

  Feeling the weight of Ash’s stare on him, Luke glared back. “Do you remember what we used to talk about at night, or did you forget that too?” The memories of the two of them lying in their beds, sharing their dreams of glory, wrapped themselves around Luke. He’d wanted to be a baseball player, and Ash had wanted to travel the world. “We were going to make it out of there. Have families and share our Thanksgivings and Christmases together. It was supposed to be us against the world, but first we’d take care of and protect Brandon. He was ours, never theirs. But somewhere along the line you forgot us, didn’t you? We weren’t enough for you.”

  “No, no. It wasn’t that, never that, Lukie, please believe me.”

  It almost choked Luke to hear the silly, teasing nickname. His anger rose, and that, along with the hurt and disappointment ricocheting through him, almost broke him. “Don’t call me that.” He lashed out as the traitorous tears stung his eyes. “That was from another time when you loved and cared about me. When you promised to always be there for Brandon and me. You gave up that right. But you knew what Munson was and you still left, didn’t you? What happened, Ash? Did he come to you one night, and you freaked out so badly you ran away?” Ash shook his head, but Luke ignored him. “I looked up to you, and it broke me to my knees to know you cared so little. I thought you were my real brother. I wanted you to be. And Brandon.” The tears rained down Luke’s cheeks. “He was innocent; a little boy who adored you. I thought we were a family. But you didn’t love us like that.”

  “That wasn’t it. You don’t understand.”

  “Then make me, goddamn you.” He slammed his hand so hard on the table that Sasha yelped and ran out. “Make me understand how you could say you loved us and yet leave us there. Make me understand how I was left alone to protect Brandon from that bastard.”

  “You want to understand?” Ash thrust his chair hard behind him, teetering on two legs before righting itself. His teeth bared in a snarl while tears dripped down his cheeks. “Fine, yeah, I’ll tell you. I knew. That’s right.” He braced his hands on the table, leaning across into Luke’s stunned face. “I fucking knew what he was. How? Because I let him touch me instead of you. I let him fucking rape me instead of you.”

  Tears poured down Ash’s face as Drew slid his arms around Ash’s waist. But Ash never took his eyes off Luke, who sat, breathless and reeling from shock and horror. “Every time he touched me, I wanted to die. But I held on so he wouldn’t ever do to you and Brandon what he did to me. For years that bastard came to me with a sick smile and told me if I didn’t let him fuck me or if I didn’t blow him, he’d make you do it.” Ash closed his eyes for a moment, more tears spilling out from the corners of his eyelids, wetting his cheeks. “He said he’d take Brandon too. So I had to let him. I couldn’t let him touch you, and Brandon was just a little kid. After a while, I was a body, a shell. It wasn’t me he was having sex with.” He swallowed hard. “It was something he did to someone else.”

  Luke could barely breathe. “Ash, stop. You don’t have to—”

  “Oh yes, I fucking have to, don’t you see? That bastard stole everything from us. Our childhood, our innocence. Our dreams.” Ash dropped his head in his hands. “He stole my life.”

  The world could explode right outside, and Luke wouldn’t notice. He bit down and tasted the metallic tang of his own blood. Without even realizing what he was doing, he walked around the table to Ash and grabbed one of his hands. Ash’s palm, clammy and cold, shook in Luke’s grip. They locked gazes, and Luke fell into the wasteland of Ash’s eyes.

  “For all these years it’s eaten me alive inside, the guilt, the hatred I have for myself.” The short, smooth nails of Ash’s fingers dug into Luke’s skin, but Luke made no protest. The only thing that mattered now was hearing Ash’s story. Luke concentrated on the movement of Ash’s lips as the rest of the room spun away.

  “You didn’t know; how could you? I never wanted you to. But there comes a time, a breaking point. I couldn’t take it anymore. I swear I tried to be strong, to stay and watch out for you and Brandon, but I was dying inside.” He pulled Luke to sit next to him, and Luke willingly sank into the chair. The truth could sometimes be more devastating than what the imagination dreamed up. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought Ash had been a victim.

  “I wanted so many times to end it all, and almost succeeded, but then I found Drew. He forced me to get into therapy. Over the past year I’ve begun to see maybe it wasn’t all my fault. That sometimes outside influences force a person’s hand to do things they never imagined. And that maybe I also deserved that happy ending other people always got.” Ash looked down at their entwined hands. “And I didn’t want to die, really, without ever finding out that maybe you would forgive me.”

  Drew slipped his arms around Ash. “Ash still needs to learn to forgive himself.”

  Dread filtered through the fog in Luke’s brain. “What do you mean, you tried to end it all?” He caught the quick look between the two of them. Jordan appeared at his side, but Luke barely registered his presence. “Tell me,” he begged Ash. “Please.”

  Jordan’s hands came down on Luke’s shoulders, and they shared a glance. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”

  Jordan shook his head. “Not a clue.” He bent to whisper in Luke’s ear. “Considering his fragile state, do you think you should continue?”

  “Did I hear correctly? Dr. Jordan Peterson expressing sympathy toward me? This truly is a night of firsts.” Ash’s sad, weak smile was a shadow of its usual devil-may-care self. “Lukie, sometimes things are better off remaining buried in the shadows. I’m sure you have things in your past you want to forget.”

  Several beats of silence passed before Luke spoke. “I whored myself when I got out of the hospital.” Luke blurted to the stunned faces around him. Jordan’s grip tightened on his shoulders.

  Never taking his eyes off Ash’s devastated face, Luke patted Jordan’s hand. “It’s okay. Let me speak.” He stood, continuing to hold Ash’s hand. “I’d like to go into the living room with Ash if that’s okay. Give us a little time to sort things out together.” He kissed Jordan’s cheek. “I love you.”

  “I’m so proud of you.” Jordan gave him a brief, hard hug. Luke, still holding Ash’s hand, walked with him in silence to the front of the house. He sat on one end of the sofa and Ash at the other. For several minutes, Luke stared at his brother. No matter the years that had passed and the anger he’d nurtured and lived on these years, this man was his blood as if they had been born to the same mother.

  As he relayed his story of hitchhiking up to Washington DC and what the truck drivers made him do, Ash sat, a frozen silent statue, the horror in his eyes betraying his tightly held emotions.

  “Luke,” Ash breathed. “I�
�m sorry. I wish it was me. It was all my fault this happened to you.”

  Before tonight, Luke would’ve agreed. But after hearing the devastating story of Ash’s own years of abuse, Luke finally understood why Ash had to leave. A breaking point. The point of no return. And Ash had been a child as well when all this happened to him. He’d hidden it so well; Luke never suspected a thing. But then again, they all had their secrets.

  “Remember the summers when we used to go fishing in the creek down the road?” It had been a treat to get away from the heat of the house and spend a day in the cool shade of the trees. He and Ash would take their makeshift fishing poles and a basket of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and spend afternoons with their toes in the icy running water. They talked about being gay in a small town and how they had to hide it from everyone at school.

  “Yeah.” Ash leaned back and toyed with the sofa cushion tassel. His eyes had that faraway look, of another time and place. “I remember every minute. I taught you everything I knew.” Those fathomless bright eyes turned to him. “The only good in my life came from you. You and Brandon. When I left, I tried to tell the police, but they wouldn’t listen to me. I was merely another gay runaway kid. And of course, since Munson was a cop, why would they believe me—a homeless kid nobody cared about. Once I had the resources, though, I never stopped looking for you.”

  That Luke could believe. For years he’d known someone was trying to find him, even as far back as him living in the shelter. Wanda had told him of people asking questions about a Lucas Carini.

  “My investigator is still out there searching for Brandon. I can’t rest or forgive myself completely until I know what’s happened to him.” Ash wiped the tears off his cheeks.

  “Tell me about Drew.”

  It was as if a hand had come by and smoothed away the tension and worry from Ash’s face. All the harsh planes and furrows softened, and he transformed into a different person. “Until I met Drew, I was drifting through life, screwing everyone I met. He saved me. There’s no one else like him.” The lightness faded from his eyes. “If I hadn’t met him…” Ash shook his head but said no more.

  The feeling of dread returned from their earlier conversation. “You said before you wanted to die. Did you try and kill yourself, Ash?” Even in his most desolate times, Luke had never thought to end his life. Perhaps his anger had kept him alive.

  Shooting him an unreadable look, Ash hesitated a moment, then reached down and unbuttoned his shirtsleeves. With growing horror, Luke watched as Ash rolled up the cuffs and revealed the twisted, ugly scars of his past.

  “Asher…” The words caught in Luke’s throat at the pain and heartbreak for his brother who had, unbeknownst to him, suffered so much guilt. He left his seat to join Ash at his end of the sofa. “Why?” The marks, though ugly, weren’t new, thank God. They twisted around his wrists and forearms in snakelike patterns, weaving around in thin white lines. Some, however, were thicker and told a deeper story of the torment Ash had lived through all those lost years.

  “It was the only control I had over my body, the only thing Munson couldn’t take from me. I decided what to do.” The words came out in a heartbroken whisper. “And when I’d think of you and Brandon and how I’d failed you, I wanted to hurt myself as punishment for my cowardice and shame. It doesn’t matter anymore. In therapy I’ve learned to stop blaming myself for what I couldn’t control and to control what I can but never hurt myself in the process. Because I’m worth something.”

  “Oh, Ash.” Without thinking, Luke put his arms around his brother for the first time in years and let go of the chains around his heart. In order to love Jordan the right way, he needed this reconciliation with Ash. It was time for him to forgive. Let go of the pain and anger he’d lived with for so long. Let go of the shame of his birth and childhood. There’d been so much damage done to them that they’d had no control over. Who was he to decide who should be forgiven and who should be held up for blame? He wasn’t God, that was for certain. And he’d made enough mistakes in his own life that not only did he ask for forgiveness, he expected it.

  Who was he to deny Ash that same right?

  That list he’d made all those years ago of past hurts and pain that had dominated his life had little meaning. The memories of the abuse they’d endured would always be there, but together, he and Ash could lock it away in its rightful place as a reminder of where they’d come from and how far they’d moved on.

  “You are so worth it. We both are. I’m sorry we both suffered. We aren’t the same kids we were back in Georgia, and thankfully we don’t ever have to go back to those days. Whatever we do now, we have the chance to make it right.” He took Ash’s hands in his. “Let me help you search for Brandon. It’s killing me to think he’s alone. The three of us always promised to stick together, no matter what.”

  “All for one and one for all, remember?” said Ash with a shaky laugh.

  The Three Musketeers. That’s what they’d called themselves when Brandon came to live with them. Luke smiled at the memory. “I carried that book for years with me. I never forgot it. And I never forgot you.”

  Serious once again, Ash looked him straight in the eyes. “We can still do it, can’t we? Become the family we’d always dreamed about?”

  When he was a boy, Luke had often cried at night, wishing he had a mother to hold him and kiss him when he had bad dreams. As he grew older, he’d learned some nightmares were beyond the help of a mother’s love. But family wasn’t always made up of blood. It wouldn’t come easy, this reconciliation. Ash’s battle with guilt was a daily fight, and Luke still struggled with his own shame and the need to hide behind his walls. Yet the yearning to reconnect, to forge those bonds of brotherhood they’d sworn to so long ago, that’s what he would focus on and work toward. And now they had the search for Brandon as the starting point to help rebuild their broken relationship. How many people got a second chance?

  A noise from the hallway drew his attention. The soft light from the chandelier gilded the gold of Jordan’s hair and Drew’s pale skin as they stood in the doorway. Sasha sat at their feet. The loving look Drew gave to Ash and the fiercely proud smile Jordan wore were all he needed.

  “I think we already have that covered.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  If there was anything better than a warm bed on a cool morning, Jordan hadn’t found it yet. With a sleepy sigh of contentment, he hooked his foot around Lucas’s hairy calf to tug him closer. Lucas’s warm arms encircled Jordan.

  “What’s the matter, Prep School? Didn’t get enough of me last night?” With his face planted in the curve of Jordan’s neck, Lucas’s words came out muffled, but Jordan grinned at the petulant growl that filtered through. Lucas hated waking up early. Unfortunately for Lucas, Jordan, having gone through internship and residency, had never learned to sleep late, and he was nothing if not a greedy son of a bitch. He wanted Lucas, and he wanted him now.

  “No.” Jordan pushed his ass into the heat of Lucas’s thighs and bumped up against his thick early-morning erection. Now that Jordan had come off his Xanax dependency and was clean for the first time in almost a year, his body hummed and sensations burned through his bloodstream, lighting a trail of fire in their wake. The landscape of his existence had changed from a dull gray to one of color, light, and sound…as if dipped in an artist’s palette.

  “I’m alive and so are you. We’re going to be all right.” Forgetting for a moment how much he wanted Lucas inside him, Jordan turned around to talk to him face-to-face. “We’re like people who’ve survived some terrible disaster. For a while we walk around shell-shocked, disbelieving it could happen to us.”

  Lucas’s arm tightened around him, but he said nothing.

  “Sooner or later, though, we wake up and look around us, wondering what went on in the world while we took a hiatus from life and mourned. It’s like after a fire, you know?” Jordan played with Lucas’s silky hair, winding the curls around his fingers. �
�You go back and tentatively pick through the ash and debris, trying to piece together what remains of the life you left behind. You hope and pray there’s enough left to keep your memories alive.”

  “Sometimes, though, it’s best to let the past remain where it is and try to make a fresh start. Not all memories are pleasant,” Lucas said.

  How he loved this man. Jordan traced the line of Lucas’s cheekbone with his fingertips. The throwaway children became discarded adults, with only the strong surviving. And strength, as he’d learned over the past year, took the shape of many different people. Like Drew, who’d faced a life change and embraced it head-on, giving Ash all his love and his heart to help him. And Ash, who’d discovered he was stronger than he thought and a man worth more than anonymous, hurried sex. A man worth loving.

  And Lucas. Strong, silent Lucas, who’d struggled with his shame and shut out the world, fearing its judgment.

  “Do you know what the best thing about memories is?” Jordan kissed Lucas, burying his face in Lucas’s neck, inhaling his intoxicating smell. The swell of his cock brushed against Lucas’s already healthy erection.

  “What? And this better not be a long answer.” Lucas rolled over and straddled him, hazel eyes gleaming in the morning brightness. “I have to go to work, and I want you now.” He bent over and began trailing his tongue down Jordan’s neck and chest.

  “Every day”—Jordan gasped, arching under the wetness of Lucas’s mouth—“you get to make new ones. Like we do.” He writhed as Lucas licked the head of his cock. “Oh God.”

  “Time to stop talking.” Lucas lapped along the veiny ridge of Jordan’s cock and slid his mouth down, engulfing him. He drew hard and tight along Jordan’s length, sucking hard until Jordan hit the back of his throat.