Chapter 11 Ledger
Ledger
I’ve been watching Ash for three days. Cass watches him the way a large dog watches a plate of food left too close to the edge of the counter.
Teague watches with warmth and commentary and charm deployed like a blunt instrument.
I just watch. Quietly, from a distance, with more attention than most people would consider normal.
In seventy-two hours, I’ve cataloged enough about Ash Dunne to fill a file, which side he favors when he stands, how he chews the inside of his cheek when he’s nervous, how he flinches at loud sounds and covers it by shifting his weight or reaching for something so it looks intentional.
That last one interests me most, because people who’ve learned to disguise their flinches have been flinching for a very long time.
After four days, though, I’m done watching.
I find him in the back barn, grooming Mabel. He’s murmuring to her about the weather and her coat and the apple he’s going to bring her later if she behaves, and she’s standing still with her head low and her ears forward, leaning into the brush strokes.
This horse tolerates the rest of us with barely concealed contempt, so watching her melt under his hands is something. He doesn’t hear me come in. I cross the barn until I’m close enough to touch him before he knows I’m there.
He startles when my hand lands on his hip.
The brush stops, his shoulders go rigid, and he turns just enough to catch me in his peripheral vision.
I watch the tension leave him when he realizes it’s me, this visible wave of relief rolling through his body as it recalibrates from fear to warmth in about two seconds.
“Ledger,” he says. “You scared me.”
I press closer, my chest against his back, my hand still on his hip. His breathing goes shallow and fast as he leans back into me, that involuntary tilt his body makes before his brain has weighed in. Mabel just turns her head and gives us a look of mild irritation.
I take the brush from his hand and set it on the stall ledge before turning him around and walking him just outside of the stall before pressing him up against the wall. He looks up at me with those dark eyes, his lips parted. “Ledger, what... what are you doing?”
“Do you want me to stop?” I love everything about not telling him what’s about to happen. But I wait for the small shake, grinning as I step closer.
When I pin his wrists above his head with one hand and press my mouth to his, he makes a sound against me, his body arching into mine.
My thigh presses between his legs, my teeth finding his bottom lip as he lets out a small whimper.
My free hand pushes his shirt up to get at skin and the shudder that runs through him vibrates against my own ribs.
He hides nothing from me. Every touch pulls a sound from his throat, every shift in pressure triggers a reaction across his skin. The complete absence of any guard makes me want to discover what else I can pull out of him.
The wall accepts his weight when I turn him to face it.
His hands brace against the wood as I pull his jeans down far enough to find him still loose from my father this morning.
Something possessive and hot runs through me, the urge to add myself to what's already there, to layer on top of what was started and push it deeper.
“I’m going to fuck you right here,” I murmur against his back, pressing a kiss just above his shoulder blade. “Where everyone might be able to see something.” Digging into my pocket, I grab a packet of lube and rip it open, liberally coating my fingers before pushing against Ash’s ass.
He bucks back against my fingers, a low whine pulling from his lips. “What if someone... what if Boone—” His back arches as I curl my fingers inside of him. “So good.” Those two words are all the invitation I need.
I shove down my pants and press into him, Ash’s dropping against the stall wall.
"Ledger, oh god, that's—"
"I know."
I set a pace that's harder and faster than any of my brothers would give him. He takes it, pushes back into me, his fingers curling against the wood, the sounds coming out of him continuous, broken desperate noises that bounce off the barn walls.
"You're loud," I tell him, close to his ear as he clenches around me so tight my vision narrows.
"I can't help it, you're so—"
"I didn't say stop."
He moans and I grip his hip harder before shifting the angle. His whole body jerks against the wall and I hold there because I've found the spot that makes him shake, and I press into it again and again while his words come apart.
"Right there, please, Ledger, right there, don't stop, don't—"
"I'm not stopping."
His voice dissolves into incoherent mumbling.
My name breaks into syllables mixed with pleas that don't have endings, and every sound he makes feeds something in me that wants to hear the next one.
I'm gripping his hip hard enough to bruise over whatever marks my father already left and the thought of both of us layered in this man makes the back of my neck burn.
Ash presses his cheek against the wall, twisting just enough for me to see one of his eyes, the irises slowly glazing over.
The focus goes out of his expression between one breath and the next.
His eyes are open but empty, that glassy blankness of a window with no light behind it.
His body is still responding but he's drifting.
"Stay with me," I murmur, close to his ear.
His eyes flutter, half-focusing before sliding again.
"Ash. Stay with me."
He blinks hard and takes a sharp breath and I feel him come back into his body all at once. I slow but don't stop, keeping him present with sensation, with the weight of me against his back. His hand reaches behind him and finds my hip, anchoring himself. I cover his hand with mine.
"There you are," I say. "Stay with me, trouble."
A low, guttural sound pulls from his lips as my rhythm stutters and I unload inside of him, Ash covering the barn wall. I bury myself into the crook of his neck, muffling my own sound as I hold him upright.
We stand there breathing hard while the barn settles around us before pulling out carefully, fixing his jeans, and turning him around.
His face glows with a flushed openness that forces my eyes away before I can meet his gaze again.
When he smiles at me, something wrecked breaks across his features, and I finally understand what drew my father to him.
A door slams outside, the sound cracking through the barn.
Ash convulses against me, his shoulders hunching to his ears, his hands flying to my chest, as his face drains of color.
Though, in the next second, he catches himself with visible effort.
His shoulders lower while a shaky laugh escapes his lips.
"Sorry. Loud noises. I'm weird about them. "
The information slides into place alongside everything else I've collected: his reaction to doors, dropped objects, the way his eyes track the sky when pressure changes. Someone weaponized sound against him. I have a feeling I know exactly who.
His legs wobble beneath him as he leans his full weight against me. I hook one arm under his knees and another behind his back, lifting him against my chest. He protests weakly, the sound lacking any real conviction.
"I can walk," he pushes out, his voice barely above a whisper.
I ignore the protest and carry him across the yard and through the back door into the kitchen. Teague is at the counter with a sandwich.
"Well," Teague says, taking a bite and grinning around it. "I was wondering if it was going to be you or Cass next. And well, look at that."
"Shut up," Ash says into my chest.
"Careful with that one, Ash." Teague gestures with the sandwich for emphasis. "Ledger likes cute things. He'll carry you everywhere if you let him. Put a stop to that quick or you'll never touch the ground again."
I carry Ash past him without acknowledgment, down the hall to the guest room that still has its made bed from three days ago.
I set him down and get a washcloth from the bathroom and clean him up as he lets me, Ash all but melting into the bed.
When I'm done I pull the blanket over him just as he catches my wrist.
"Ledger."
"Yeah."
"Why did you keep saying stay with me?" His voice is soft and drowsy. "I felt like I was falling. Like I was going somewhere far away like with Boone and your voice was the only thing keeping me here."
I sit on the edge of the bed, his thumb moving back and forth across my pulse, probably without him knowing.
"Your body trusts people faster than your brain does," I tell him. "When it feels safe enough, it lets go of everything. All the control, all the noise. It's not a bad thing, but you need someone there to make sure you come back."
"That’s what happened the first night with your dad, I think. He called it subspace."
"Ask him. I know what it looks like and I know what to say when I see it. But I’m not as well versed with it."
Ash hums, my heart beating a little faster as he slips into sleep, little snores permeating the air. Some part of me wonders if he’s just doing this to fill the void Marcus left but the absolute willingness Ash does things... contradicts every reason why we shouldn’t be doing this.
I pat the bed once before pushing to my feet and heading for the kitchen, not at all surprised to see my brothers basically waiting for a report.
Teague is still in the kitchen, wiping crumbs off the counter.
Cass is at the table now, muddy boots up on a chair, turning a pocket knife over in his hands.
"How is he?" Teague tosses the cloth into the sink and leans back against the counter.
"Asleep."
"You carried him across the whole yard." He crosses his arms, a smirk playing on his lips.
"His legs weren't working."
"Wonder why." His grin widens but it fades when he sees my face. "What?"
"He flinched." I pull a mug from the cabinet and pour coffee, knowing full well it’s too late for caffeine but we always have a pot going in this house for some reason. "I was with him in the barn and something slammed outside and he went white. Shoulders up, hands up. Not a startle."
Cass stops turning the knife. "I slammed the tack room door. I didn't know he was in there."
"I know. I'm not blaming you. I'm telling you what I saw." I take a sip and lean against the counter across from Teague.
Nobody says anything for a moment. Teague's jaw goes tight as his arms tighten across his chest. "Dad needs to know," Teague says.
"I’m sure Dad already knows. He's been watching longer than any of us."
"So what do we do?"
"We get quieter. We pay attention. We don't slam things. We don't come up on him fast, and if his eyes go blank we say his name and bring him back."
"That's not enough." Cass' voice is low, the knife opening and closing in his hand, giving off a slow rhythmic click. "Somebody made him like that. Somebody taught him to flinch."
"And that somebody is in a cell or out on bail and he's not our problem today."
"He's going to be our problem eventually." The knife clicks shut and stays shut, Cass' fist tight around it.
"Eventually isn't today." I take another sip. "Today we take care of Ash. That's the job." Though, I absolutely want to find Marcus and strangle him.
The landline rings. All three of us look at it, the phone on the wall by the fridge that nobody under sixty uses voluntarily. I groan, pick it up, listen for a beat, and then slam it back down. Absolutely the fuck not. Teague raises an eyebrow, a smile spreading across his face. “And who was that?”
“Marcus.”
Laughter erupts from both of my brothers as I move away from the phone, grumbling when it rings again. Of course, that bastard would try a second time. Teague pushes off the counter and picks it up.
"Hello?" A pause. His expression stays flat but his eyes find mine across the kitchen. "No, haven't seen him. Haven't heard from him either. Has he gone missing?” Teague pauses again, a dark look growing in his eyes. "I don't know what to tell you, Marcus. Maybe try one of the local hotels?"
He hangs up and stands there with his hand on the receiver for a second before turning to look at both of us. Cass snorts. “I was wondering if that bastard brother of ours was going to call at some point. It really took him nearly half a week to check?”
Teague just shakes his head. “You know how much Marcus hates the rest of us. He’d never think Ash would actually come shack up with us. God, when he finds out...”
I throw my brother a glare, effectively shutting him up. “He’s not going to find Ash and he’s definitely not getting him back. Yes, Marcus will eventually figure it out but until then? Marcus stays in the dark. Let Dad deal with him.”
A groan comes from my side as I look at Cass who looks thoroughly disappointed. “Dad’s going to give him a pep talk or something. That’s not enough.”
“And if one of us approaches Marcus, he’ll end up dead in a ditch. You’ll be in jail and you’ll have never spent the best several minutes of heaven with Ash, minutes I know you’ve been jerking yourself off to.”
Cass’ entire face twists up before he just sighs. “Fine. But if Marcus shows up on the porch, no promises of what I’ll do to him.”
A laugh bubbles up in my throat. “Yeah, get in line, brother.”