Drew shook his head in disbelief. “You think you’re fine? Look at yourself. You’re a mess. One moment you’re decent, kind, and caring; the next you’re a cruel, hurtful bastard. You run from everything and everyone you think might get close to you.”
“Isn’t this where we started tonight?” Ash’s strained drawl didn’t fool Drew now. As if he were a balloon, Ash deflated, his shoulders slumping, and his head hung down.
“Yes, I remember now. You told me I wasn’t worth it. And you know something; you’re right. I’m not worth it. So go home, Doc, find a nice girl to fuck, and let me be.” This time he walked out of the room, and Drew followed.
Ash returned to where he must have been seated before Drew showed up tonight. The club chair stood by the dark, cold fireplace, the bottle of vodka and ice bucket resting like sentinels on the small table, awaiting his inevitable return. In his heart, Drew knew this was where Ash spent most of his time when he was at home. In that chair, with a bottle, staring off into a dark void of nothingness. What ghosts did he see as he sat all alone, deep into the night? Was it shadows of his past come to haunt him in the present? Once again Drew saw those twisting, ugly scars, and his own body winced in sympathetic pain.
“Ash, I said I was wrong, and I’m sorry. I spoke out of anger.”
The ice must’ve melted, as Ash peered into the bucket, shook his head, then sloshed some vodka in his glass and, with a practiced flip of his wrist, drank it off in two gulps. He poured another and repeated the action. Only then did he answer. “No, you merely spoke the truth, what I was always told.” He poured another glass and drank it down as well. “I’m not worth it. Jus’ a poor kid with no family.” He stood and began wandering around the spacious room, then tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. Flinging his arm out, he spun around. “But I showed them all, didn’t I, Mr. Frank? You said I was smart and I could make it.”
His heart breaking for this tortured man, Drew approached him with care. There was no way he’d leave him alone tonight in his fragile condition. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to Ash.
“Hey, buddy, why don’t you lie down?” Drew placed his hand on Ash’s shoulder. “I’ll help you back into the bedroom.”
Having stopped spinning, Ash stood swaying in the middle of the room, looking decidedly pale and ill. “I don’ feel so good.” He squinted into his empty glass. “Wha’ happened to my drink?”
He plucked the glass out of Ash’s hand. “No more drinks for you, my man. You need to lie down and go to bed.”
“With you?”
The hopeful note in Ash’s voice struck a chord in Drew’s heart. There was still so much about Ash he didn’t understand and wanted to learn. He wasn’t ready to dismiss the man, and certainly, after the revelations tonight, he knew he couldn’t. It had nothing to do with the sex, although his face warmed remembering the feel of Ash’s mouth on his cock.
Now wasn’t the time to think about that. He slid his arm around Ash’s shoulders and pulled him close. It was a little difficult, as Ash had several inches and at least twenty pounds on him, but after a few stumbles, he managed to push Ash back down the hallway and rather indelicately dump him into his bed. Drew turned on a night table lamp, casting a low glow over the room.
“Ow.” Ash rolled onto his back, his bleary face turned sideways as he mumbled into the pillows. “My head hurts.” Quicker than Drew thought possible, though, considering the man’s drunken state, Ash grabbed Drew’s T-shirt and pulled him down on top of Ash’s hard body.
“Oof.” He landed with his pelvis nestling in perfectly with Ash’s. As expected, Ash was most definitely aroused, but Drew had already made up his mind not to engage in any more sexual games with Ash until they had a chance to clear the air.
“Hey, none of that. You’re drunk, and I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
A heavy hand clamped around his waist, and Ash’s lips found his neck. “I’m usually drunk when I fuck someone, so I think it’s a great idea.”
It was as if an icy bucket of water had been dumped on Drew’s head. His erection wilted almost instantly and, with a strength that shocked him, he wrenched away from Ash’s drunken nuzzling and stood up, spitting in anger.
“I’m not ‘somebody.’ I’m not some fucking piece of ass you picked up at a bar to screw and forget. I’m your friend, goddamn you. Friends are different.” Christ, he almost let this guy… Shit, it was too much to imagine. Almost without thinking, he stuck his face in Ash’s. “I’m different, or at least I thought I was.”
Ash merely stared back, unblinking, with those silvery eyes.
“So, you’re telling me I’m no different than that waiter who blew you in the hallway, the same as all those anonymous men you’ve fucked?”
Ash opened his mouth, then closed it, bowing his head. “The fact you’re even here, in my home and in my bed, and we’re having this conversation, shows how different you are.” He fell back onto the pillows. “Drew, what the hell do you want from me?”
Good question. He hadn’t a clue. As a friend, he would help any of the people dearest to him, no questions asked. But Ash had suddenly become more than a friend. What had happened between them tonight had carved a special place in Drew’s heart, even if they never took it further. Above all else, Drew hurt for Ash as a person. The pit of ugliness Ash had lived in prior to his arrival in New York must have been so deep and black it was a miracle he’d been able to climb up out of it.
“I want you to talk to me.” With a gentle hand, he stroked Ash’s sweating face. “Please tell me about it. Maybe I could help you.”
Ash’s laugh rang bitter. “Help me? You’re nice, Drew. Good and pure at heart. You see the best in people and always think of how to help them.” He rolled onto his side, presenting Drew with his broad back. “It’s impossible for someone like you, who grew up normal, loved and sheltered by a family, to understand what can happen to the children left behind. The ones no one wanted.”
Drew sat on the bed, his weight tipping the mattress, forcing Ash to slide closer to him. The warmth of his large body tempted Drew to reach out to hold and comfort him, but he didn’t want to break the spell of Ash revealing even the smallest piece of himself. Something, anything, though, would be helpful in unraveling the mystery of this man. “Talk to me, then. Tell me about it.”
Ash’s dark head burrowed farther into the pillows. “I can’t drag you into the mess of my life. As it is right now, you know more about me than anyone else. You don’t understand how hard I’ve worked to put it behind me, but I can’t. It’s like a horrendous jack-in-the-box that keeps springing up when I least expect it, to scare the shit out of me and drag me back down.”
“That’s why you relate so well to those kids at the clinic, right?” He took a deep breath. “To Stevie? You know what he’s going through, don’t you, because something similar happened to you; am I right?”
At Ash’s quick nod, Drew instinctively touched his shoulder in sympathy, but Ash flinched away. “We were all thrown in together. The kids no one wanted. No family who cared whether we lived or died, but we had each other, you know? Years we spent waiting for someone to help us. And they looked up to me ’cause I was older, but I couldn’t help myself; how could I help them?”
Drew stayed silent, knowing Ash was inside himself once again, reliving his youth.
