I looked over the water, visible in the distance, and the scattered lights of the city.
“Hey,” I said firmly, pulling his attention back to me. “You don’t need to apologize. And you are worth it.”
Asher let out a puff of air, close to a laugh, then drank from his beer again. “Thanks, but you don’t need to reassure me. You’ve already done enough.”
“I’ll say what I want to say,” I told him firmly.
Frankie took my hand. “Asher, you’re the only reason I’m starting to take this new work on. If you weren’t around, I’d still be sitting around Northstar all day with nothing to do.”
“And the work you do is very impressive,” I added. “You’re a talented handyman.”
Asher scoffed. “Whatever. It’s just hammering shit and cutting shit. My dumbass father could do it, and I can do it, too. Doesn’t mean a thing.”
It pained me that he wasn’t willing to let himself take a compliment. It was one of the tragedies of being young, I knew—acting cocky but never seeing your own worth.
Something about his father, I thought to myself. It was just an offhand remark, but I sensed there was more there.
“Stand up,” I said as I rose to my feet.
Asher cocked an eyebrow from the couch. “What? I told you I’m fine.”
“Come on,” I said with a nod. “Stand up.”
Asher glanced at Frankie, who stood to join me. Asher sighed, then pulled the sheet back and rose to his feet.
The sweat had dried on his lithe, muscular body. The soft lighting in the room cast shadows across his tattoos, obscuring the dark shapes. Asher stood with his feet a couple of feet apart and his hands hanging loosely by his side.
“Straighten your back,” I said.
Frankie took in a deep breath, straightening his own back to demonstrate, and Asher followed along.
“Good boy,” I said.
Asher’s cock twitched, half-hard between his legs, but he didn’t lose his composure. His eyes were straight ahead and his chin up, just like I instructed.
Frankie threw his arm around my waist, and I stretched along his shoulders, pulling him close. We both stood like that, drinking Asher in with our eyes while he held his composure.
“Why do you like Asher?” I asked Frankie. “Why does he matter to you?”
Frankie smiled. “Because he makes me laugh, and he makes me do things I never thought I would do. His energy is exciting, but it’s not like he’s unfocused. I always notice him taking care of small details with the jobs we do, treating things better than I would treat them myself.”
“He’s conscientious,” I agreed. “I like that, too.”
Asher’s lip twitched; then he bit down on it. His eyes were alert and clear, like I could feel whatever was brewing inside of him.
“I like how happy he makes you,” I agreed. “He makes me happy, too. And I like that he brings out a side in each of us that we don’t usually see. But I also like him because I trust him.”
A tremble went down Asher’s body, but still, he kept his head up.
“I trust him, too,” Frankie agreed.
“Do you know why I trust you, Asher?”
He shook his head but didn’t say a word.
“I trust you because I know you want to do good,” I told him. “I can see it in your eyes. There’s a world of difference between someone who wants to be good and someone who thinks they’re good but only acts out of self-interest.” I clasped his shoulder and squeezed hard. “I can see that you’re trustworthy, Asher, because I can see that you care.”
He nodded very slowly, the raindrops still tapping softly on the window beside us.
“You’re not your father,” I said. The words came out of me so quickly, I didn’t really think about them. But somehow, they still felt right. Necessary, even. “You are your own man.”
Asher sucked in a breath, then finally fell forward, landing between Frankie and me. We held him from each side while he squeezed back. The tension in his back told me that he was still holding something back, fighting his way from the edge of tears.
But one thing had definitely changed. For once, Asher wasn’t running away.
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you both for saying that.”
“Don’t you worry, Asher,” Franklin said, patting his back. “We’re here for you.”
