Chapter Three
A voice from the TV asked, "Can you see all your family standing around you?" Danny blinked awake, momentarily confused before realizing it was just the movie. Though, for a second, he thought his own family was there, which would’ve been weird as hell.
He’d fallen asleep on Ash’s couch. Somehow they’d ended up on their sides, with Ash’s hand resting against Danny’s back. Right over the scars. He tried to figure out how to wiggle free without waking Ash, but then Ash’s eyes fluttered open, and Danny forgot how to breathe.
Their faces were inches apart, and Danny felt that same pull he always did around Ash. That dangerous feeling that made him want to stick around even though he knew better.
To ignore all his own rules about keeping people at a safe distance.
Heat pooled in Danny’s stomach, spreading outward until every nerve ending felt alive and over-sensitized. Ash’s fingers moved against his scalp in slow circles, fingernails scraping lightly, and Danny’s body betrayed him with a soft exhale that sounded too much like surrender.
“You okay?”
No. Yes. Danny didn’t know anymore. Everything felt too close, too warm, too much. Pine and smoke filled his lungs with each breath, and underneath that, something else… Sleep-warm skin and the faint sweetness of beer on Ash’s breath.
Instead of answering, Danny tilted his chin up. Just enough. An invitation or a mistake, he couldn’t tell which.
Ash’s pupils dilated. His thumb traced along Danny’s jaw, pausing at the corner of his mouth. Time stretched thin between them, fragile as blown glass.
Then Ash closed the distance.
Ash kissed with firm pressure, confident, like he knew exactly what he wanted and Danny was it.
His lips were softer than they had any right to be, moving against Danny’s with a patience that made his bones ache.
Heat sparked along every point of contact—mouth, hip, the hand still cradling his head.
A sound escaped him, muffled against Ash’s mouth.
Ash responded by deepening the kiss, tongue tracing the seam of Danny’s lips until he opened for him.
The first slide of tongue against tongue sent electricity racing down his nerves.
He tasted chocolate and something darker, richer.
Ash kissed like he had all night, like Danny was something to savor rather than rush through.
God, when was the last time someone had kissed him like this?
Danny’s palm pressed against Ash’s chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart through cotton, and that small proof of the effect he had on Ash made Danny brave enough to kiss back harder.
But then Ash’s hand moved, sliding down from Danny’s head to trace the curve of his spine. Lower. Right over the raised tissue where Brad had—
Ice flooded Danny’s veins. His whole body locked up, muscles going rigid as Ash’s fingers found the first scar through his shirt, then another, following the map of damage Brad had left behind.
“Don’t.” The word came out strangled. “Don’t touch my back.”
Ash pulled his hand away immediately, but his eyes stayed steady on Danny’s face. “I want to know you. Every part of you.”
The words hit like a physical blow. Every part. Including the ugly parts. The broken parts. The parts Danny kept hidden under black shirts and careful distance.
“I need to…bathroom.” Danny scrambled over Ash. “Sorry, I just…bathroom.”
His knee hit the coffee table hard enough to hurt, but he didn’t care. He had to get away. Had to breathe. Had to—
“Danny.” Ash sat up, hair mussed, lips still red from kissing. “Don’t run.”
“Not running.” Even to his own ears, the lie sounded pathetic. “Just… Bathroom.”
He was already moving, his feet carrying him down the hallway he’d walked through hours ago when everything had felt safer. The bathroom door appeared, and he practically fell through it, fumbling for the lock with shaking fingers.
White tile. Gray walls. A mirror that showed his reflection—flushed face, kiss-swollen lips, eyes wild with something between want and terror.
What am I doing? What the hell am I doing?
He paced across the small space, three steps one way, three steps back. His breathing came in short bursts that didn’t bring enough oxygen. The walls pressed closer with each pass.
Stop. Stop moving. Stop panicking.
His hands gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles white. In the mirror, his reflection stared back, accusing. Coward. Freak. Who was he kidding? Ash was normal. Gorgeous. Whole. And Danny was none of those things.
“I curse the day I met you,” he whispered to the mirror, to Brad’s ghost, to himself.
Fuck him for the scars. Fuck him for the fear. Fuck him for still being here, in Danny’s head, months after he’d finally gotten away.
Tears slipped down his cheeks. He scrubbed them away with the heel of his hand, angry at his body for betraying him. Angry at himself for thinking he could do this. Angry at the universe for dangling something good in front of him when he wasn’t ready to reach for it.
His reflection blurred. More tears. Great. Perfect. Exactly what he needed.
You’re pathetic. Nobody else is going to want you.
Except Ash had wanted him. Had kissed him like Danny was something precious. Had touched those scars and hadn’t pulled away in disgust.
Every part of you.
More tears. Danny grabbed toilet paper, blowing his nose as quietly as possible. His face in the mirror was blotchy, eyes red-rimmed. Perfect. Just perfect.
Pull it together. You can fall apart at home.
He splashed cold water on his face, dried it with a hand towel that smelled like Ash.
His hands still shook but less violently.
He didn’t need this. He didn’t need Ash or movie night or falling asleep together.
Ash probably brought guys over all the time, probably had a rotation of perfectly normal men who didn’t freak out over a simple touch.
Not basket cases with ugly backs and even uglier baggage.
When he opened the door, Ash was standing in the hallway. He wasn’t crowding, just waiting, hands loose at his sides.
“I’m heading home,” Danny said. The words came out flat, mechanical.
“It’s two in the morning.”
“So? What’s your point?” Danny pushed past him, heading for the living room where he’d left his keys. “Thanks for dinner and the movie. Sorry I fell asleep during it.”
“Danny—”
“Don’t.” Danny spun around, and suddenly all that trapped emotion had somewhere to go. “Don’t act like you know me or what I need. You don’t know anything about me.”
Ash’s expression didn’t change, still that infuriating calm. “You’re right. I don’t. But I’d like to.”
“Why?” The word cracked down the middle. “Why would you want to?”
“If you really want to leave, I’ll drive you home.” Ash’s voice stayed even, reasonable. “Your call.”
Danny’s keys bit into his palm in his clenched fist. Leave. Stay. Run. Fight. Every instinct pulled him in different directions until he couldn’t tell which way was up.
“I don’t—I can’t—” The words wouldn’t form properly. Everything felt too big, too much, pressing down until he couldn’t breathe.
Then Ash’s arms were around him. Not trapping, not forcing, just there. Solid and warm and inexplicably safe. Danny should’ve pulled away. Should have run.
Instead, he let himself be held while his body shook and his breathing hitched and everything he’d kept locked down for a year threatened to spill over.
When Danny finally settled down, Ash led him back to the couch, and Danny didn’t argue. He simply lay down, curled into Ash, and allowed himself to fall back to sleep.
* * * *
The following afternoon, Danny stood frozen outside Frothy Pine. Up close, it looked massive, darker inside, more intimidating than it had when he’d walked by it on any other day. Was he really doing this? Why?
He wasn’t social. He didn’t even drink. And yet…Ash had filled his every thought since leaving the guy’s place early this morning.
Exhaling a shaky breath, Danny shook out his arms, tilting his head side to side like he was gearing up for a boss fight.
“Just open the door and walk in,” he muttered. “You can do this. Door handle. Grab it. Feet. Move them.”
Even from where he stood, he could feel the bass of the music pounding through him. The smell of onion rings filled his nostrils.
A few guys wearing leather walked out, music thumping louder before the wooden door closed shut behind them.
“Nope.” Danny spun around and started away, only to turn back around, jaw clenched. “You’re gonna do this, damn it.”
Just walk inside. What’s the worst that can happen?
He bit his lip. What if he embarrassed himself in front of the whole town? What if they all saw how small and lost he really was? He pictured himself tripping over the threshold, stammering in front of everyone, shredding his self-esteem. His chest tightened.
Should’ve dragged Isaac along. With Isaac, he could fake courage. It was easier to face strangers when you had your best friend at your side. Especially when he knew Isaac would wild out if anyone even looked wrong at Danny.
Okay, so maybe leaving his best friend out of this was smart thinking. Danny didn’t need the pint-size drama queen starting a bar brawl.
Yet.
“I have to do this myself,” he whispered. He needed to heal. To let go of the pain he’d carried for so long. Last night, he’d almost managed it. He’d laughed. He’d felt…safe.
He’d been brave enough to kiss Ash.
A few more leather-clad men swaggered past him toward the entrance.
Was leather required, like some kind of dress code?
Danny glanced down at himself. Torn jeans, black T-shirt, nail polish, and eyeliner.
He’d even wore a few more chains than he had last night and had spiked his hair.
On his wrists were leather bands. Did that count?
Before he could chicken out, he slipped in behind the men.
The music slammed into him like a fist. The bar was jam-packed with towering, broad-shouldered guys, their voices booming over the bass. Danny’s stomach knotted, but he forced his feet to move.
Danny weaved through the crowd with quick, uneven steps, pausing whenever someone brushed past him then snapping forward, knees knocking, until he reached the bar and gripped its edge so hard his knuckles hurt.
Okay. Breathe. You did it. Yay, go me!
A bartender glanced at him then sauntered over. “What can I get you?”
Of all the scenarios Danny had rehearsed, none had ended with Ash not being here.
“I’ll take…” He glanced at the shelf behind the bartender then at the soda gun. “A Coke,” he shouted over the music.
Just drink it and go. I should’ve never come here.
Someone moved in behind him, close enough that Danny felt the heat before the actual touch. A plate of golden onion rings appeared before him. Danny’s heart skipped as a familiar scent enveloped him.
“On the house.” There was something primal in the way Ash’s low voice curled around the words, rough and rich, like the last sip of bourbon.
Danny gripped the counter edge, fighting the urge to lean back into the solid warmth behind him. He turned, finding himself trapped between the bar and Ash’s body.
“Didn’t think you were here,” he said, his voice catching as he noticed how Ash’s T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, how his eyes caught the amber lights above the bar.
“Saw you walk in.” Ash slid onto the stool beside him, their knees brushing. “Made a kitchen run.”
Danny ducked his head, hair falling forward like a shield, his heart threatening to burst.
Ash’s fingers brushed Danny’s ear, featherlight, tucking the dark strands away. The touch trailed down to lift Danny’s chin. His fingers lingered, thumb grazing his jawline. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Caught in the warmth of Ash’s gaze, Danny’s lips parted slightly.
“Try one.” Ash tore off a piece of onion ring, holding it to Danny’s lips. “Stole them from the kitchen just for you.”
“Committing crimes on my behalf?” Danny teased, his shoulders relaxing, just as they had last night. There was just something about a guy feeding you.
Ash’s laugh was quiet, deep, and entirely unhurried, a sound that tugged at something low and needy inside Danny. “Only for you, honey bear.”
His eyes flicked up, meeting Ash’s heated gaze. Without thinking, he leaned forward, taking the offered bite. The salt hit his tongue first then Ash’s fingertips, warm and slightly rough. Danny moaned and licked his lips at the best onion ring he’d ever tasted.
Ash’s eyes darkened, pupils expanding as a sound rumbled from his chest, something between a growl and a groan that settled low in Danny’s belly like liquid fire.