CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Asher was going to lose his mind.
At the time, it had seemed like a good idea to get everything over with and out of the way as quickly as possible.
In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have scheduled deliveries and pickups with everyone on the same day.
There had been people in out of his house all morning, and the chaos of it all was making him a little bit insane.
The people from the women’s organization arrived just half an hour before the people from the LBGTQ center. Natalie came by around noon in a black box truck to make their trade, but at least she’d brought food with her.
“I kind of fucking love you.” Dropping the paper bags onto the kitchen island, he turned and dragged her into a hard hug. “Help me,” he whispered dramatically. “You have got to get me out of here.”
She had a laugh just like Cameron’s, and while her eyes were a little darker blue, they were just as expressive when she reached up to pat his cheek. “It’s kind of overwhelming, huh?”
“You could say that.” He liked a little chaos in his life…just not in his house. It was his safe place, and cu rrently, he felt like it had been defiled. “I really didn’t think this through.”
“Deep breaths,” she encouraged, leading him to one of the barstools. “It’ll be over soon. What’s left to do?”
“The people from the HAVN Foundation are finishing up with the furniture right now. I decided to donate the beds from three of the guestrooms along with the arcade games to the teen shelter, so there’s another truck on the way. There’s an appraiser from the auction house coming in about an hour.”
“Wow,” Natalie breathed. “When you decide to do something, you jump right in, don’t you?”
“It sounded like a good idea at the time.” Having to deal with this for days sounded so much worse than getting it all finished at once. Sort of like ripping off a Band-Aid.
“Okay.” Nodding, Natalie pulled out a deli sandwich and a carton of truffle fries. “Eat.” She pointed a finger at the food. “I’ll go check to make sure everyone is on task.”
He hadn’t spilled his guts so that she’d take over and save him. “You really don’t have to do that.”
“Eat,” she repeated, clamping down on his shoulder when he tried to stand. She was a lot stronger than she looked. “I’ve got this.”
“Nat—”
“I swear the next thing out of your mouth better be, ‘Thanks, Nat. I owe you one.’ Otherwise, I’m going to call Cameron, and then you’ll really be in for it. ”
One Stone sibling was bad enough. He didn’t stand a chance if they decided to gang up on him. “Thanks, Nat. I owe you one.”
She patted his cheek and smiled “Good boy.”
Reaching for his sandwich, he slid it across the counter, groaning when his phone began ringing. A quick glance at the screen told him it was a call from the front gate, which meant the other truck from the center had arrived.
Tired, hungry, and frustrated, he hit the code and pressed the pound key to open the gate without answering the call. They’d either figure out where to go, or they’d drive around his property until they ran out of gas. Whatever happened, he really couldn’t bring himself to care.
Turning off his ringer, he slid his phone out of the way at the same time he reached for a fry with his other hand.
They were still warm and crispy, and he moaned a little in appreciation as he chewed and swallowed.
Natalie’s ex was a fucking idiot. She was amazing, and anyone would be lucky to have her.
She spoke her mind, and she was a little more outgoing than Cameron, but kindness just seemed to run in the family. Asher imagined he could call either of them at three in the morning, for any reason, and they wouldn’t even think of not helping him .
Cameron would tell him that was what family did. They were there for each other, even when the other person acted like an idiot. Asher’s experience would dictate otherwise, but he definitely liked Cameron’s version of family better.
That didn’t mean he wanted to rush out and meet the guy’s parents anytime soon, but he was starting to get more comfortable with the idea. He’d met Natalie without breaking out into hives. That seemed like a good start.
Hey, Ash.”
Asher froze, a fry halfway to his lips. Maybe the stress of the day had finally broken him, because no way in hell could he be hearing that voice inside his house—his sanctuary. No fucking way was Kyle Anders standing in his kitchen.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Kyle laughed, the sound raspy and a little deranged. “Although, I was surprised that you even let me through the gate.”
Shit. That was what he got for not answering the damn phone.
“Nice place,” Kyle continued.
Asher didn’t respond. He didn’t move. The fries that had been so tempting just a moment ago felt heavy in his stomach.
Mostly, he hated the way seeing Kyle made him feel.
He despised how easily he recalled old memories he’d worked so hard to forget.
It didn’t matter that over a decade had passed, or that he was now an insanely successful author.
Kyle’s very presence made Asher feel like the scared teenager he’d been when they’d met.
The teenager who had dug through trashcans just to survive, praying for any kind of scraps.
“Why are you here?” he finally asked, but he still couldn’t make himself move. “How did you find me? Why were you even looking?”
“I never forgot about you, but I wasn’t looking for you.
” Kyle’s footsteps sounded unusually loud as he took a couple of steps closer.
“Then, I saw your picture on that blog, and I…” He trailed off with a disgruntled huff.
“The famous Asher Dare. I had to see it for myself.” His laughter sounded even more unhinged.
“If people only knew who you really were.”
Asher’s stomach twisted. “What do you want?”
“I just want to talk. It’s been a long time.”
It had been a long time, sixteen years to be exact, but he didn’t believe Kyle had stalked him across two states to talk.
Standing, he took a deep breath to steady his resolve, then turned. He thought he’d been prepared. He thought he’d been ready. Seeing the man standing there in his kitchen, dressed in baggy, wrinkled clothes, staring at him with those empty eyes, was like a punch in the gut.
All the air left his lungs, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to refill them. Logically, he knew it was all in his head. He knew no one could hurt him now, not unless he let them, and he’d never let anyone hurt him again.
The only person he could truly count on in the world was himself.
No matter how great people seemed on the surface, they’d eventually let him down.
They’d hurt him, some intentionally, some not, but it all felt the same in the end.
Trusting people, opening his heart to them, it only gave them power and the tools they needed to destroy him.
Hands clenched at his sides, spine stiff, teeth clenched, knowing these things didn’t matter. Logic had no room to take root and flourish among the weeds of his past.
“I want you to leave,” he said, his voice quavering only once. “Get out, and don’t come back. Don’t call me. Don’t try to contact me.”
Shaking his head, Kyle took a step closer. “I just want to talk.”
“Then talk.” The sooner he found out what the man wanted, the sooner he could get rid of him.
Kyle’s gaze darted around the kitchen, then over his shoulder, before finally settling on Asher again. “If you’re mad about the coffee shop, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things in front of your friend, but I was hurt.”
“You were hurt ?”
Asher was definitely going to vomit. His instincts screamed for him to flee, to run away and hide, but he wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t a kid anymore, and he didn’t have to be afraid.
“You just left,” Kyle explained, still creeping forward.
“You vanished. You left me there, and just fucking vanished.” Close enough to touch, he reached out and grabbed Asher’s wrist, squeezing it in a bruising grasp.
“I guess everything worked out for you, though. I mean, look at this place. Must be nice.”
“Let go of me.” He tried to jerk his hand away, but Kyle’s grip tightened into a steel band, not letting him budge an inch. “Get your hands off me and get out of my house.”
“Or what?” Kyle taunted, his cracked lips stretching wider. “You’ll call the police? Have me arrested? I don’t think you want to do that. It would be a shame for everyone to find out who you really are. How many people do you think want to read books written by a whore?”
Asher’s heart jackhammered up into his throat, and his stomach twisted into tight, painful knots. “You have secrets, too.”
Kyle laughed darkly. “I do. How much do you think people will pay to hear those secrets?” He scanned Asher’s face with bloodshot eyes. “How much would you pay, Ash?”
The icy tendrils of defeat spread through Asher’s veins, leaving him cold and shaking. “So that’s it? That’s what you want? Money.”
“I think sixteen million should be enough to keep me quiet.” Releasing Asher, Kyle extracted a crumpled piece of yellow paper from the pocket of his jeans and tossed it onto the countertop. “One million for every year since you left me rotting in that shithole.”
“I was a fucking kid.” Asher had been just as much of a victim as Kyle. Back then, he couldn’t even help himself, let alone help anyone else.
“So was I!” Kyle exploded.
“Asher, is everything okay?” Standing just inside the kitchen, arms folded over her pink blouse, Natalie glared daggers at Kyle.
“Everything is fine,” Asher answered, standing up a little straighter. “Kyle was just leaving.”
Kyle extend a hand to her. “Kyle Anders, and you are?”
Natalie stared at his hand as if he’d offered her a dead slug, arms still crossed over her chest. Her gaze snapped back to his, and those sky blue eyes sparked with protective ferocity. “Natalie Stone. How do you know Asher, Mr. Anders?”
Kyle laughed. “Oh, we go way back, don’t we, Ash?”