The Deeper He Hurts (20 page)

He propped his hip against the island, too fidgety to sit, and then set his glass on the marble island top when he noticed his hand was trembling. He waited for his mother to start, mind racing with his heart.

Had Sawyer's brand healed okay? Had it faded away by now?

Was he okay?

“You brought him to me, didn't you?”

What?
His mouth gaped, thoughts freezing.
Did she…was she…No.

She tilted her head, brows pulling together. “That guy. He's the one, right?”

“The one what?” he sputtered, blood roaring in his ears. Sweat broke out on his nape, a clammy hotness sweeping over him. “What are you talking about?”

His dodging habits kicked in without thought. But hadn't he trusted in his parents' love before? A mere four weeks ago he'd been ready to put that love to the test—and had ended up testing his own instead.

For Sawyer.

And he'd failed.

His mother grabbed his fist, pried his fingers apart until she could squeeze his hand. “It's okay, Asher.”

He swallowed, his ability to speak once again stolen. What was his deal? He was always organized, logical, and ready with a response. Talking wasn't rocket science, but apparently it took more courage than he had at the moment.

“Of all my children,” she went on, “you're the one I worry about the most.”

That jolted him. “Me?” he rasped, his chuckle coarse with irony. And here he'd spent his entire life trying to be the good son so she wouldn't
have
to worry about him. “I thought Lance owned that spot.” The unruly wild child fulfilling the typical irresponsible youngest sibling role. “Why would you worry about me?”

A soft smile stole over her face. “You live up here.” She tapped her temple. “You're always in your head. Analyzing and thinking. Trying to be what you think people want you to be.” Sadness shifted in to tug her smile away. “And I didn't always help that.” She blinked, looked away, her frown deepening.

“Mom,” he interjected, discomfort with the entire conversation urging him to end it as quickly as possible. But she held up her hand, head shaking before he could go on.

“The whole priest thing. Women. The restaurant.” Her eyes were shiny with rarely seen tears when she studied him again. “I'm sorry, Asher. I should've been more aware. I should've seen what you needed, not what I wanted.”

He almost laughed at that. If he'd been able to distinguish between the two, maybe he wouldn't be so far away from Sawyer right now. Sawyer needed space and time, when Ash had wanted here and now. He'd pushed, and Sawyer had run.

“It's okay.” He squeezed her hand, compassion swarming in. “I'm a grown man. I made my own choices and mistakes. Those aren't on you.” Or on anyone but him, and he owned every one of them.

“It's not okay,” she insisted, fierce with her motherly resolve, her free hand smacking the marble countertop. “I've hurt you with my blindness, but I'm not blind anymore. I saw what you were trying to tell me. What you've been silently saying for years.” She ran a finger under her eye, blinking rapidly. She sniffed, straightened in her seat, chin notching up. “I admit I had to think on it. I prayed, too. And do you know what I figured out?”

He managed to shake his head, heart racing again. He tried to judge her expression, read her eyes, but he didn't trust his assessment. Yet he couldn't wait to find out what her judgment was. This was his moment to finally be honest, and he had to take it for himself, regardless of the outcome.

“You're right,” he said before she could speak, voice strong, heart lifting. He tightened his hold on her hand and trusted. “His name is Sawyer Stevens.” He swallowed, blew out a breath, remembering the promise he'd made to her not long ago. “And he's the man I love.”

Everything went quiet after that. The world shut down, slowed, and waited. Then a smile curled up her cheeks to deepen the wrinkles around her eyes, and everything crashed back online. His pulse pounded, blood racing through him on a renewed high that had his head spinning.

He'd admitted he loved Sawyer, and his mother was smiling at that.

“Good, Asher.” She covered their clasped hands with her free one. “I'm happy for you.”

“Really?” Skepticism slammed back in to temper his mounting relief. He'd trusted her love, but he'd spent so many years doubting that same love it was hard to believe what she was clearly saying.

“I ignored my suspicions for years because of my own fears,” she informed him. “But I finally realized God wouldn't have given me children that
He
didn't love exactly as they are. So who am I to judge God's choices? And what kind of Christian would I be if I rejected the precious gift God gave me because the gift was different than I expected?”

Ash tried to untangle her words without jumping too far ahead. “Does that mean you're okay with me being gay?”
Gay
. The word hung in the air, weighted with connotations and negative implications. His mother could still reject him.

He inhaled, filled his lungs with a cleansing breath, and let that fear go. He would deal with the fallout. The relief of dropping that piece of baggage, of finally exposing that part of himself, was too enormous to regret.

“Yes, Asher.” She stood and hauled him into her arms for a crushing hug. “I love you, son. Exactly as you are.” Her love flowed into him in a slow wash of acceptance that spread to every crevice and shoved his fears away.

This right here was what Sawyer had been missing for fourteen years.

“Thank you.” He dipped to press a kiss on her cheek, appreciating every ounce of her acceptance that much more. “I love you too.”

“You better.” She slapped him on the bicep and stepped away, fingers swiping under her eyes. “I spent—”

“Twenty hours in labor with me,” he finished for her, chuckling. The longest out of her four children. “I know.”

She pointed the knife at him, scowling. “Don't get smart with me.”

“Never.” He retreated back a step, hands raising in peace, smile wide.

The cut of her humph was lessened by the smile that broke through. She turned her back to him and dug a small hoard of fresh vegetables out of his refrigerator that his housekeeper had stocked for him.

“So where is this Sawyer?” She somehow managed to eye him while dicing a green pepper, a feat he'd never have attempted. “Will I get to meet him now?”

“What about the rest of the family?” he dodged again. His skills were so finely honed he hadn't even thought about the move.

She shrugged. “They will think what they want. But they'll keep their mouths shut if they want to be invited to dinner.”

“And Dad?”

Her hand stilled, the consistent cut of the knife silencing. “He'll be fine. We talked about it when I suspected, and in a way this is no different than birth control.”

“What?” He reared back, confused. “How is being gay like birth control?”

“The church said birth control is wrong,” his mother stated. “But there was no way your father was getting near me after Lance was born unless he accepted that the church wasn't God.” He muffled a laugh and cringed at the thought of his parents having sex. Even at his age, that wasn't cool. “And that,” she went on, “the church's interpretation of God's words could be misguided.”

Simple. Straightforward. Logical. He chuckled softly, seeing the parts of himself he'd inherited from her. And to think he'd spent so many years fearing how she'd respond. He'd sold his parents short, and lost so much time because of it. Had he done the same with Sawyer? Was he repeating the same mistake by not trusting enough in their love?

There was only one way to find out, and that wouldn't be by sitting here in Portland, hiding behind his fear while Sawyer was buried in his own.

A stunning show of gold, red, and pink blazed over the horizon, the last arc of the sun slowly slipping behind the distant butte. Sawyer squinted at the display until the sun slid from sight and eased the intensity on his eyes. It was beautiful, all of it. The rugged, craggy vista and nature's light show reflecting off the wispy clouds took his breath away no matter how many times he saw it.

The footsteps scuffed over the tile behind him, each step measured and consistent. He tensed but continued to stare straight ahead. He'd imagined this meeting a dozen times since he'd left Portland and now that it was here, he had no idea what to do.

So he continued to stare at the horizon and waited for Asher to make the first move. Or was this the second?

The footsteps drew closer, the energy picking up to signal his approach. His body hummed with awareness, expectancy hovering on what this could mean. Was it possible Asher still wanted him? Loved him, even?

Asher drew closer, his steps growing louder until the sound competed with the increased beat of Sawyer's heart. Yet he still didn't move. Bent over the patio railing, hands clasped before him in a hold so tight his knuckles hurt, he was frozen in place.

Was this the fight he'd cut off in Portland? Had Asher finally shown up to lay into him for being such a dick? A chicken? He'd never worried about what other people thought of his actions—until Asher.

There was a fuck ton of things that went with that ending, and all of them had been cycling through his mind and heart for the last month.

Asher's first touch was on his lower back, a hand pressed flat above the waist of his jeans. He flinched, breath hitching. His eyes fell closed when Asher slid his palm upward, the connection blazing through him to chase away the darkness that'd surrounded him for so damn long.

He rolled up into the slow ascent, chills trembling outward to shimmy down his arms and across his torso. Then Asher's arms were circling him, crowding into his space and not letting go, his chest fitting in to blanket his back with the protection he'd been missing.

“How?” he mumbled more to himself than Asher. How the fuck had Asher known what to do? He dropped his head back, not even attempting to resist his longing to be held and connected when he'd feared both for so long.

“I'm here,” he whispered near Sawyer's ear. “I won't let you go again.”

Ffuu
…He couldn't even finish the silent curse. The burn scorched his throat and stung his eyes, and he didn't care if the tears slipped out or if Asher saw his vulnerability.

Sawyer clutched at his arms and held on, head tipping to rest against his. This was everything he'd missed for years. Connection and understanding. Unity and support.

Belonging.

They stood like that, the light fading from the sky in a silent tribute to another day. Asher was at his back, chasing away the cold and sharing his strength. This right here was the peace he'd searched for since he'd lost his family. It smoothed into his heart and settled in his soul on a whisper of acceptance.

“I love you.” Sawyer's words cracked the silence, soft but steady. Sure. He'd understood it for a while, but he'd been scared to let it free.

Asher inhaled, froze before he released it, a soft “Thank you” floating over Sawyer's cheek. A kiss scorched his jaw and seared its way straight to his heart. A smile worked its way over his lips and chased back the fear that would probably always be there. He accepted that now, understood it, and was working to control it, or at least the actions it caused him to take.

“I was going to come to you,” he said.

Another kiss by his ear. “I beat you to it.”

“You did.” He let that sink in, absorbed it. “Why?” He'd been the dick. The one who couldn't commit and had shit all over Asher and everything he'd offered.

“Because I love you.” Asher tightened his hold, hand splaying over Sawyer's heart. “I let my pride stop me before, but I won't do that again.”

He still loved him. Sawyer finally dared to believe in it, and in them. “I let my fear stop me.”

“I know.” Asher's breath hitched again. “We both did.”

Sawyer's laugh escaped on a short gust of air. “What are you afraid of?”

“Of fucking up again. Of being hurt. Hurting you. Not knowing what to do.”

So simple and yet so complicated. Asher's admissions twisted around Sawyer's heart so tightly he lost his breath.

“What if I hurt you again?” Sawyer sucked in a rush of air. “I can pretty much guarantee my fucked-up head is going to do something to screw this up.”

A warm gust of breath warmed his neck, Asher's lips connecting a second later. The kiss sank deep and began to unwind the thread of panic inching its way through him. The bites started out playful—light nips, a hint of teeth grazing down the tender expanse of his neck. Asher bit down when he reached the juncture of his shoulder, and didn't relent.

Sawyer's groan tore out of his chest, the longing and want mingling with relief. The sting changed to a sharp dig before sliding over to a bone-deep throb.
Yes
. He stretched his neck and melted into the pain as he'd only ever truly let himself do with Asher. His muscles went lax, mind settling into a warm state of understanding.

“I take it this dynamic won't change.” He licked his lips, hoping his assumption was true.

Asher ran his tongue over the dents his teeth made, each swirl both mitigating and deepening the ache. “I hope not.” He nipped at Sawyer's earlobe. “But I can't save you, Sawyer.” His swallow was loud near Sawyer's ear, the frustration and sorrow tempering his voice. “I wanted to.” A sharp inhale. “God how I wanted to. But I can't do it.” His hand clenched, Sawyer's shirt bunching in the tight hold over his heart.

Those words would've angered him even a month ago. He would've charged away, denying that he needed to be saved. But not now. No, he understood exactly what Asher was saying. And he agreed.

“I know.” He placed his hand over Asher's fist and pressed until Asher loosened his clench, palm flattening to Sawyer's chest again. “I don't expect you to save me.”

“You have to care, though,” Asher insisted, pain lacing every word. “You have to care about yourself and your life because damn it, Sawyer, I can't watch you self-destruct, and I won't help you do it, either. I can't—” He broke off, his arms tightening around Sawyer until his breath was constricted. “I can't love you this much and let you hurt that deeply.” His fury faded at the end until all that remained was the raw agony in his voice.

It tore through Sawyer and reached far deeper than any physical pain ever had. It nestled right next to the harbored loss of his family, but stung even more.

He'd caused Asher's pain. His careless disregard for his own life had caused harm to someone else's too. Damn, he'd been a selfish bastard.

“I'm working on that,” he admitted, rubbing Asher's hand. “I've been talking to a therapist again, working through things.” Talking it out was another step in letting go of the past. His therapist had been helping him see exactly how much his actions hurt those who loved him. “It's been hard.” Fucking grueling. “But good. I have to deal with my past if I want a future—a real one.” He drew in a breath, absorbed Asher's presence surrounding him. “And I do want one. You made me want one. With you.” He chuckled, turning his head to eye Asher. “Bastard.”

Asher's grin lit up his face and sent another wave of love and gratitude pounding through his heart. “I'm not sorry about that.”

“You shouldn't be.”
Not ever.

Asher shifted them around, his hands framing Sawyer's face, eyes dark and filled with the love Sawyer had refused to see. “I don't know how you did it, but you managed to change everything in the short time you were in Portland.” He wet his lips, canting forward. “You've become a part of me, when I thought I'd always be alone.”

Sawyer sucked in a breath, heart aching with the love he'd feared so badly he'd tried to destroy it. But his capacity to love hadn't died with his family, just like he hadn't.

“Me too,” he whispered, still unbelieving that this strong, kind, sadistic, caring man could actually be his. Then Asher was there, lips closing over his, the kiss searing into him to chase away the last of his doubts.

He squeezed his eyes closed and savored the rush for all that it meant. He clutched Asher's wrists and siphoned his strength as he poured his love into the kiss. All the things he couldn't say or express came out in the soft touch of his tongue and the slow rediscovery of everything he'd missed so damn badly.

The gentle brushes that managed to rock his soul. The deep swipes that woke his hunger. The little nips that fired his blood. The give-and-take that balanced and brought them closer. Every touch, stroke, nudge was a reminder of what he'd almost lost and of how much he could still lose.

But the risk was worth it if it meant he'd have even one more day of this with Asher.

The kiss broke on a series of short pecks that touched his heart, left him smiling and so grateful for this second chance. He rested his temple against Asher's and let the moment sink in.

“How did you know it was me?” Asher asked, breath stroking over his cheek.

“I saw you coming a mile away.”

He chuckled. “I didn't see you coming at all.”

Sawyer leaned back, grinning. “No. Really.” He pointed to the horizon. “I could see the dust rising a mile away. The only reason to come down that road is to see me, and not many make the trip.” Because he'd scared everyone off. “I didn't know who it was until I recognized your truck.”

And then he'd almost blacked out because he'd forgotten to breathe. His initial shock had given way to a quiet acceptance that'd been tempered by a gentle rise of hope.

“I didn't see you up here,” Asher said.

“I ducked back after I figured out it was you.”

“Why?”

Fear. Shame. Embarrassment. Doubt. Guilt. All of the old emotions he still struggled with but was working to minimize. “To gather my thoughts. So,” he rushed, switching the topic from things that were still too tender to scrutinize, “you drove?”

“It was easier than flying.” Asher hauled him into a hug, arms anchoring him to his chest. “God, I missed you. Once I realized how stupid I was being, I had to get here.”

Sawyer chuckled, basking in the security of his embrace. “Being stupid is my job.”

“Not according to my mother,” Asher joked, lips brushing over the edge of his ear.

“What?” He jerked back, heart sinking at the thought of what that could mean. “You didn't—”

“I did.” The calm certainty in his voice did little to settle Sawyer's new fears. “Actually, my mother came to me.” He blew out a breath, smile warm with love. “She figured it out after she saw you at their house—and she's okay with it,” he rushed on when Sawyer opened his mouth. “I should've trusted her love, just like I should've trusted yours, even when you weren't ready to accept it. That's why I came. To tell you I understand, but I'm not going to let you hide in your pain anymore. Not without me.”

And fuck
. How in the hell did he respond to that? He blinked back the sting in his eyes, so damn tired of the volatile tumble of emotions that'd been tearing through him since he'd let them all free.

He rubbed the back of his head, finding the dull edge of bone at the base of his skull that had served as a reminder and a penance for too long. He brought Asher's hand up, smoothed his fingers over the spot that seemed to pulse with the pain it contained.

“This is where my family is.” His voice cracked, but he plowed on. “I had their names tattooed there. My own personal reminder of how dangerous it was to love and how much it could hurt.” He hadn't even told that bit to his therapist yet. But Asher was much more than someone to just walk him through his pain. He was the guy who'd shown him exactly how much he'd been hurting, and then given him something to live for.

“Fuck. Sawyer.” Asher hauled him back into another hug, his palm cradling the back of Sawyer's head. “Promise me something.”

“What?”

He rubbed his fingers over the hidden spot where Sawyer had memorialized his family. “That you won't add my name there if something happens to me.”

Panic swooped in to constrict his throat and flash down his spine in a wave of cold fear. He shuddered, gasped, and held Asher tighter.

People died every day. There was nothing he could do to change that. The logic ran through his mind in a series of statements he'd been working to process with the help of his therapist. Love came with that risk, and he had to accept that or continue to live in the empty darkness, and he was so damn tired of living that way. Isolating himself from the world hadn't succeeded in protecting him from the pain that came with living.

He sucked in a jagged breath and slowly got his fear under control. His pulse still raced, but he found the strength to answer Asher.

“I can't promise that,” he finally said. “I can't tell you what I'll do if you di—” He choked, unable to finish the word. He shook his head when Asher pulled back to study him, needing to finish his statement. “But I also can't worry about that when there's so much to live for right now.”

“Damn. You're killing me, Sawyer.”

Asher cut off any possible response with a kiss that blew his mind and left him breathless and wanting. He gave it all back, too. Every hard demand and unspoken need. Every moaned acceptance and gasped desire.

The two of them worked in a way he'd never dared to dream about. But he did now. He'd taken that first big leap into the unknown, and trusted Asher would be right there with him.