Chapter 28
twenty-eight
I sat at the dinette in the kitchen of my parents’ home, a gray hooded sweatshirt warming my body. Gazing through the patio doors, I took in the green grass of the backyard, the willow tree my father planted when I was a kid, and the tall wooden fence beyond it. The midday autumn sun lit the yard through puffy clouds. I ate my food on the table in front of me, a Wendy’s burger and fries, and sipped soda from a straw.
My mind replayed the last few weeks, the interviews on morning shows and radio stations, quick gigs on late shows, and the fun gig on Saturday Night Live. I’d had a great time at the after-party. I smiled. Now, a day of rest was in order after a sold-out hometown gig at Northrop Auditorium.
As I shoveled fries into my mouth, movement in the family room caught my eye at the three-paned picture window framed by flowered curtains. Mom must have ordered something. Delivery guy?
The doorbell rang. “What the fuck?” Maybe it was something needing a signature.
I stood and strode past the U-shaped row of dark wood cabinets and white appliances, into the hallway with a black slate floor, all the same as when I’d grown up here. A staircase lined the wall to the left, leading up to the bedrooms. Stopping at the heavy wooden door, I opened it.
A young man in a black jacket and jeans with dark hair stood with his back to me.
I stared at him, something about his hair looking familiar. “Can I help you?”
He twisted around, a wide smile resting on his porcelain face. “Ash.”
My breath caught. “Holy shit.” I rushed at Micah and flung my arms around his shoulders, burying my face in his neck, my eyes prickling. “Oh, my God.” Lifting my head, I stared at him. “It’s really you.”
“It’s really me.” He hugged me around the waist.
“Holy fuck.” A sudden flood of emotion overcame me, and hot tears spilled down my cheeks, my shoulders shaking as I hugged him to me. Oh my God, he feels good, so fucking good.
He shushed me. “I’m here, Ash.” He brushed his hand down the back of my head. “I’m staying with you until we both go home together.”
I breathed deeply, fighting to quiet my emotions, grounding myself in the comfort of his arms. What a mess I was. I calmed and lifted my head. Stepping back, I placed my hands on his shoulders, taking him in from head to toe. Was it possible he looked even more gorgeous than when I’d left him? “God damn it, how did you get here?”
He lifted one side of his lips. “Why don’t you let me in, and I’ll tell you.”
“Uh, sure.” Beaming, I grabbed his hand and led him inside, shutting the door behind us, then guided him down the hallway and into the kitchen.
He rolled a suitcase behind him with a computer bag attached to the handle.
Stepping to the table, I pulled the next chair over closer to me, then sat down, tugging him in next to me. “So?” I propped my elbow on the table and my cheek on my hand, smiling as I gazed at him. Damn, he’s stunning.
He knitted his brows, gazing at the table. “I did the math. With you home for only two to three weeks out of every two months, that’s an average of seventeen-point-five days out of sixty days, or only twenty-nine percent. So, we could only be together twenty-nine percent of the time over the next year at the most.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I tightened my hold on his hand, my heart dancing.
“It’s not enough.” He focused on me. “After we talked that night in New York, Joey found me breaking down in a conference room at work.” He sighed. “He convinced me that Robert would let me work from wherever you are on the road. So, I spoke with him about it, and with all the hard work I’ve put in, Robert is letting me. I only have to go back into the office when we’re home.” His gaze searched my face. “And my therapist is okay with doing TeleHealth visits while I’m gone.”
“Are you shitting me?” I gave him a quick hug. “So, you’re going to be with me now?” It sounded too good to be true.
“Mostly.” He grinned at me. “Wells was so worried about you. Your mother, too. They helped me schedule things, so I could surprise you today.”
I blinked and stared at him. Was this real, or had I passed out somewhere? “So, you’re staying. With me. Here.”
He released a quick laugh. “Yes, and the tour bus, when that starts up. All I need is internet service and I’m good.”
A broad smile stretched across my face. “Oh, my fucking God. You have no idea how happy I am.” I leaned in, placed my hand on the back of his head, and drew us together for a long, sensual kiss. As I released him, I took his hand, desire flaring inside me. “No one’s home.”
He ran his tongue over his lips. “I know. We planned it this way.”
Glancing at our entwined hands, I said, “Since you’re a groupie now, I’m going to take you into my bedroom in the basement at my parents’ house.” I released a low chuckle.
He snickered. “Sure, but first, I want you to show me around. I’m not that easy.” He peeked at my half-eaten burger. “Take your lunch with you. You look like you’ve lost weight since I saw you.”
I beamed. “Of course. My appetite is finally back.” I picked up my burger, stood, and pulled him off the chair. I’d show him all of it, ending with my bedroom. “We’ll start with the family room.”
I led him through a doorway off the kitchen to a room with a brick fireplace against one wall and a tall bar area in dark wood next to it. Brown leather couches and chairs lined the other walls along with a television. I strolled to the bar. Pictures in frames rested on a shelf and I pointed to a photograph of myself at age seventeen, my blond hair cut around my face and a grin resting on my lips. A taller boy with blond hair had his arm around my shoulders. “That’s Lane.”
He grabbed the photo and held it, running his index finger over the glass as if touching Lane’s face. “You two look happy.”
“We were. That was way before he got into drugs.” I laid my head on his shoulder. It felt so good to have him close, to have him here in this house.
He set the photo back on the shelf. “You were cute.” He gave me the shy smile I loved. “Were you with Wells then?”
“Not yet. Wells first kissed me right after my eighteenth birthday. He caught me in the hallway after we played a homecoming gig.” I lifted my head and gazed at him.
“Okay, I don’t need to know any more about that.” He crinkled his nose.
“Jealous?” I smirked and bumped his shoulder with mine.
“Maybe.” Turning, he took a few steps. “Eat your burger.”
“Fine.” I lifted the burger and took a bite, then guided Micah through the hallway, past the front door, and into another room. “This is the living room.”
Mom’s beige couch lined one wall with a matching loveseat sitting along a set of tall windows. Flowered draperies hung down between the panes of glass. Dark-wood coffee and end tables surrounded the couches with tall, cream-colored ceramic lamps. “My mom puts the Christmas tree up right there every year.” I pointed at the end of the loveseat, where an open space lay in front of the windows.
He left my side to approach more pictures in frames on the tables. He picked them up one by one. “You sure were a cute kid.”
After taking the last bite of my burger, I stepped to him and wrapped my arms around him from behind, looking over his shoulder. “I never got to see any pictures of you when you were little.” I was sure he’d also been a cute kid.
He set the last picture down and cocked his head against my cheek. “We’ll have to go to my mom’s house when we get back. She has them all.”
Enough of this. I wanted him in my bed. I freed him and pointed at the room behind us with a long dining table and a buffet. “There’s the dining room. Now, let’s go.” I snatched his hand and led him into the kitchen. “Get your stuff. We’re going downstairs.”
Sliding the computer bag strap over his shoulder, he grabbed the suitcase handle.
I opened a door that led to a staircase going down to the basement. “You ever even seen a basement before?”
“Sure, they have cellars in the older houses in San Jose.” He smirked at me.
“Not like this.” I stepped down the stairs with him following and turned the corner to the left at the bottom, flicking a light on. “What do you think?”
He set his suitcase and backpack down on the carpet and scanned the room. “Not too bad. You had a fireplace in your bedroom?”
“Yeah.” I smiled and looked over my old bedroom, the brick fireplace matching the one in the family room right above, my double bed against the far wall with a black-and-white striped comforter and matching pillows, the dark-wood nightstands with white, square lamps, and finally, the couch and coffee table sitting across from the fireplace. A television rested next to the fireplace, hung on the wall over a small console.
He chuckled and strolled into the room. “There are no windows.”
“Don’t really need them, but there are windows up there.” I pointed to the very top of the room, where small windows rested under the ceiling.
He stepped to the bed and plopped down, bouncing. “A double bed? Really?” He smirked at me.
He was right where I wanted him. Biting my lower lip, I came to him and shoved him onto the bed, then climbed over him, my knees on either side of his hips, my elbows on either side of his head. “What do we need a bigger bed for? I’m going to be on top of you all night, anyway.”
“You are?”
I crushed his lips with deep kisses, one after the other, sliding my hands under the thin, gray sweater he wore beneath his jacket, trailing up his chest until I found his nipple and kneaded it into a hard nub.
He writhed beneath me, letting out a soft moan. He hooked his arms around me and yanked me down, grinding his hard cock against my thigh. “It’s been too long.”
“Way too long.” I unfastened his jeans and slipped my hand inside to stroke his hard shaft. Pleasure shivered through me with each rock of our hips.
He found the hoop in my earlobe and teased it with his tongue.
A jolt of sensation rippled through me. I unfastened my own jeans, slicked my hand with saliva, and snuck it down to wrap around our solid dicks. I pumped them both, gliding one against the other with our rocking hips.
“Oh, fuck.” He breathed heavily against my cheek. “I’m close already.” He dug his fingers into my ass, his body shuddering with each pump of my hand.
I kept on him, struggling to hold out. My peak came on with a sudden burst, my hot cum spurting between us and over my fingers, each wave tingling pleasure through my body, gasping with each one.
Thrusting hard into my pumping hand, he threw his head back and cried out, his cum erupting over my fingers, his body trembling.
As we quieted, I rested my head against his chest, letting my breath calm. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”
He played with a lock of my long hair. “I am here. I’m not letting you leave like that ever again.” He inhaled. “I can’t promise that I can be with you every day, but I certainly will never let you go off for more than a week or two without me.”
“Good.” I snuggled into his chest. I’d never let him go.
* * *
A few hours later, I trudged up the stairs with Micah in tow, yawning. The afternoon nap had been exactly what I needed, and sleeping in his arms? The best ever. Through the door at the top of the stairs, the sounds of puttering filtered in. I opened it and stepped into the kitchen.
Mom, dressed down in a blue sweater and jeans, turned from the stove, a wooden spoon in her hand. “Decide to come up for dinner?” She smiled at me, blowing a lock of curly blond hair off her face.
“Definitely.” I led Micah to her. “Mom? This is Micah.”
She set the spoon on the counter, grabbed him by the shoulders, and looked him over. “You’re even more handsome in person.” She gave him a warm hug. “I’m so glad we could get you out here.”
“I’m so happy I could make it.” He smiled at her and looked over at a pot of macaroni noodles, hamburger meat, and tomato sauce. “What are you making?”
“Good old Midwestern goulash.” She picked the spoon up. “Ashton has to have it every time he’s home.”
“It’s my favorite.” I tightened my hold on his hand, admiring him once again. He really was here.
“Get your father. He’s in the family room. Dinner is ready.” She walked to a cabinet and pulled down a serving dish.
I guided Micah to the kitchen table. “Take a seat.”
He dropped in next to the sliding glass doors.
Poking my head into the family room, I called out, “Dad? Dinner’s ready.”
Dad looked up from the couch, an iPad in his hand and his reading glasses on. “Be right there.”
I sat down next to Micah against the wall and watched Dad enter the room. “Dad, this is Micah.” I pointed to him.
Dad extended a hand to Micah. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person, son.”
Standing from the table, he shook Dad’s hand. “It’s a pleasure.” He sat back down.
Mom stepped to the table and placed the serving dish down, filled with steaming goulash and a spoon. Bread and butter were already on the table, along with plates, silverware, and glasses filled with water. “Oh, what does everyone want to drink?”
I glanced at my water glass. I’d been better with the drinking since we hit Minnesota a few days ago, but now there was no reason for alcohol. “I’ll just have water. I should probably dry out.” With a frown, I glanced between Mom and Micah.
A faint grin swept over Micah’s lips. “I’ll just have water as well.” He placed the napkin in his lap.
Mom spooned goulash onto everyone’s plates, then sat down. “So, Micah, your flight was okay?”
“Yeah, it left around seven this morning, so I’m kind of wiped out.” As Micah filled a fork with goulash, he peeked at me. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”
If I’d known he was coming, there would have been no way I would’ve slept either. I smirked at him. “Too excited to see me?”
“A little.” Micah ate a bite of goulash and chewed. “Wow, this is great. I can see why Ash likes it so much.”
Mom gave him a wide grin. “It’s comfort food.”
“Too bad you had to miss Ash’s show last night at the university. They played really well. The crowd went crazy for them.” Dad took a bite of goulash.
“Did you go?” Micah studied me.
I tapped his arm. “Of course, they always come see me play when I’m in town.”
“That new slow song is so beautiful, Ashton.” Mom gave Micah a sly smile. “I wonder who inspired it?”
Heat flooded my cheeks, and I glanced at Micah. “He’s sitting right here, Mom.” I took a sip of water. She already knew that. She was just trying to embarrass me, and it worked.
Dad cleared his throat. “So, what are your plans for this evening? Hitting the bars in Minneapolis?”
I gazed at Micah. All I wanted was him close and probably undressed. “Maybe not. I was thinking of a quiet night at home with a movie on the couch downstairs. There’ll be plenty of time to go to bars.”
Micah’s gaze met mine and softened. “I think that sounds perfect.”