Chapter 6 Asher
The dull roar of the crowd faded to white noise as I scrawled my name across what felt like the thousandth glossy headshot, my fingers cramping around the Sharpie. It was the same song and dance at every one of these things - grin, sign, pose for a quick selfie, rinse and repeat.
The edges of my smile was now tight as I reached for the next item to autograph. The face smiling up at me from the proffered photo was familiar. Too familiar, with a sickening jolt of recognition slamming through me.
No. No, it couldn't be...
"Hello, Asher," the man purred, and my head snapped up so fast I felt something crack in my neck. "It's been a while."
Carter.
He looked exactly as I remembered, all slick charm and calculated ease in a crisp Armani suit, not a silvered hair out of place. But there was a hardness in the glacial blue of his eyes, a cruel twist to the smile that never quite reached them. The same expression he'd worn every time he'd cornered me in the studio, every vicious little cutting remark disguised as professional critique.
My heart slammed against my ribcage like a caged bird, the air suddenly too thick to pull into my lungs. I could feel the old panic rising, clawing at the back of my throat, the visceral flight response that had been trained out of me through gritted teeth and white knuckles every time he'd dressed me down in front of the techs.
Dimly, through the high-pitched whine building in my ears, I registered the solid wall of heat at my back. Jared, moving closer, his presence a grounding weight that kept me from floating off. I wanted to sag into it, to let him anchor me, but I couldn't show that kind of weakness.
Not here. Not in front of him.
"Carter," I managed, and if my voice shook a little, I prayed he would chalk it up to surprise of seeing a ghost from my past materializing in front of me. "This is unexpected."
"Well, I heard my golden boy was in town, and I just couldn't resist dropping by to pay my respects." His smile widened a fraction, showing a hint of teeth. "You've done well for yourself, Ash. Diamond-certified debut and a world tour. I like to think I can take a little credit for that. For molding you into the star I always knew you could be."
Molded . Like I was a piece of clay for him to shape as he saw fit, something to be squeezed and trimmed and forced into unnatural contortions. The phantom sense memory of his hands on me, pushing and prodding and bruising, made my skin crawl.
I saw Jared shift out of the corner of my eye, his body angling subtly between me and Carter, and I felt a rush of gratitude.
Carter, of course, ignored him completely, his attention laser-focused on me. "I worried you'd gone a bit soft for a while there, lost your edge," he continued, looking me up and down. "Especially after that unfortunate little incident in the studio. When you ran off to lick your wounds like a sulky child. But I have to say, this new scandal of yours?" He made a low, approving noise in his throat. "Inspired. Nothing like a bit of controversy to get people talking."
His eyes glittered, cold and pitiless, and I couldn't suppress the shudder that rolled through me. It was the same look he'd had that day, when he'd ripped into me in front of half the label for daring to question one of his production choices. When he'd called me a talentless hack who'd be nothing without him, a pathetic charity case he'd elevated out of pity.
When he'd pulled me aside later, all tender concern and fake apologies, telling me how much he believed in me even as his fingertips pressed bruises into my hips. How he only pushed me because he knew I could take it. Because I was special. Because I was his.
Bile seared the back of my throat, my empty stomach spasming like I might actually be sick. I swallowed hard against it, digging my nails into my palms, the bright shock of pain helping to clear the panicked static from my head.
"You..." I started, only to be cut off by a booming voice from behind Carter, laced with barely restrained fury.
"Hey, asshole!" Dylan shouldered his way through the throng with all the grace of a runaway train, his elbows carving a path to the front of the line. "Fancy seeing you here, slumming it with the common folk. Aren't you usually too busy making deals with Satan for a clear complexion to mingle with us lowly folk?"
Carter's jaw clenched, a vein pulsing at his temple. "Dylan," he gritted out, turning to face him with a thin veneer of civility. "Charming as ever, I see."
"And you're still a sentient pond scum who styles his hair with the tears of abused clients," Dylan shot back, not missing a beat. He planted himself firmly at my side, folding his arms over his chest. "Seriously, did your doctor up your dosage of Diluted Evil again? Is that why you're out in public subjecting innocent bystanders to your whole American Psycho schtick?"
I barked out a startled laugh, clapping a hand over my mouth a beat too late. Dylan cut me a lightning-quick wink, before schooling his features back into disdainful boredom.
Carter's nostrils flared, his mask slipping just a bit. "Still hiding behind the halfwit's sassy friend routine, I see," he sneered, eyes flicking dismissively over Dylan's spiky hair and ripped jeans. "What's the matter, Asher? Need your guard dog to fight your battles for you now that you're a big star?"
Jared, silent but watchful at my back, let out a low, sub-vocal growl. But Dylan was already stepping forward, getting right up in Carter's space with a sunny, shark-like grin.
"Nah, see, I prefer to think of myself as more of an attack chihuahua," he said brightly, head cocked like a bird. "Small but vicious, with a particular taste for saggy old ball sacks. And buddy, let me tell you..." He made a show of looking Carter up and down, nose wrinkling delicately. "If you were any more wrinkled, I'd need a tetanus shot after this conversation."
Someone in the crowd behind Carter let out a muffled snort, quickly covered by a cough.
"Asher, call off your boy toy before I have to get unpleasant," Carter said coldly, not taking his eyes off Dylan. "Wouldn't want to cause a scene, would we?"
I opened my mouth, but Dylan beat me to the punch, letting out a trilling laugh that was pure acid.
"Boy toy!" he crowed, clutching his chest. "Oh honey, I haven't been called that since my last review on Grindr. But hey, far be it from me to kink-shame. I'm sure you'd love to watch me and Ash bump. Probably get your wrinkly old rocks off imagining you were sticking it to him again, like the good old days when he was too young and dumb to recognize a pencil-dicked sociopath when he saw one."
Carter went white, then an alarming shade of red. I felt Jared tense against my back, coiled and ready to spring. But I couldn't focus on that, couldn't focus on anything but the ragged gasps of breath.
It was too much, too close, the ugly truth of it laid out in the open like a rotting wound. The memories crashed over me in a fetid wave. All the times I'd let Carter manipulate me, use me, twist me up in knots until I didn't know which way was up. All the times I'd brushed off the unease, the creeping wrongness, telling myself it was normal, that he was just looking out for me, that I should be grateful for his attention, his guidance.
God, had he been the one to leak that photo? It would be just like him, to orchestrate something like that. To take twisted pleasure in watching me fall apart, knowing he was the one pulling the strings.
Now stumbling back from the autograph table, I mumbled something about needing air, about taking five. My legs carried me backstage on autopilot, past startled sound techs and wardrobe assistants, down the twisting hallway to my dressing room.
I slammed through the door and made it three steps before my knees gave out, sending me crashing to the thin, industrial carpet. I moved backwards until I hit the wall, knees drawn up to my chest, breath coming in thin, reedy gasps.
Distantly, over the thundering rush of blood in my ears, I heard the snick of the lock, the careful tread of boots. But I couldn't make myself look up, couldn't uncurl from the protective ball I'd wrapped myself in.
The footsteps came to a halt a careful distance away, the presence looming over me careful not to crowd, not to suffocate. When the voice came, it was low and measured, warm honey over gravel.
"Asher," Jared said softly, and I felt something in my chest crack open like an egg, spilling yolk all over my insides. "Ash, sweetheart. Can you look at me?"
The endearment, so at odds with his usual gruff professionalism, made fresh tears prick the backs of my eyes. I shook my head mutely, feeling absurdly childish but unable to face him like this. Wrecked and paralyzed, a shivering wreck at the feet of a man who'd seen me at my most unguarded, my most unforgivably vulnerable.
A man who was still here, still standing sentinel, despite knowing exactly how broken I was beneath the polish and sheen.
"Okay," he murmured, quiet acceptance in every syllable. "That's okay, Ash. We'll just sit here for a bit, alright? Just breathe with me."
And then he was moving, sinking down to sit cross-legged in front of me.
"I want you to focus on my breathing," he instructed, calm and assured. "Nice and slow, in through the nose and out through the mouth. Can you do that for me?"
I managed a jerky nod, trying to zero in on the steady rise and fall of his chest. To match my stuttering inhales to the rhythm of his own, even as every cell in my body screamed for me to bolt, to hide.
"That's it," he encouraged, as the roaring in my head slowly began to gentle. "Just like that. In and out. You're safe, I'm right here. He can't hurt you anymore."
A shuddery, wounded noise clawed its way out of my throat, my eyes squeezing shut against the hot press of tears. "You don't know that."
"I can," he countered, quiet but fierce. "I do. Because I won't let him, Asher. I won't let anyone hurt you ever again. Not while I'm around."
The words hit me like a punch, robbing me of what little breath I'd managed to drag into my aching lungs. I wanted to believe him. But I'd heard pretty words before, let myself be lulled by soft promises and softer hands.
And where had that gotten me? Shaking and small, crumpled on the floor of my dressing room while the vultures circled, ready to pick the meat from my bones.
"You can't promise that," I whispered, and hated the way my voice cracked on the last word. Hated the naked pleading in it, the desperate urge to burrow into his broad chest and let him shield me from the world. "No one can."
"Watch me," he said, simply. Like it was just that easy, that uncomplicated. "I'm not going anywhere, Ash. I've got you, for as long as you'll let me."
There was a fierce tenderness in the words, a bone-deep certainty that reached right into the ravaged core of me and took root.
"You wanna talk about it?"
I was quiet for a long moment, letting myself sink into the grounding weight of Jared's body so close to mine. "We were together when I was first starting out. He produced a couple of my early tracks."
I felt Jared tense slightly. "I take it things didn't end well?"
"Understatement of the century." I pulled back to look him in the eye, needing him to understand. "He was awful to me. Controlling, manipulative. Always tearing me down, making me feel like I was nothing without him."
Jared's throat worked as he swallowed. I could see the fury building behind his eyes, the urge to track down Carter and make him pay for every cruel word, every bruising grip.
"I got out, eventually. But seeing him today..." I shook my head. "It brought it all back. Like I was that scared kid again, desperate for his approval."
Without a word, Jared gathered me back into his arms, folding me into his warmth and strength. I melted into him, breathing in the clean, spicy scent of his cologne, letting it ground me in the present.
"You're not that kid anymore, Ash," he murmured into my hair. "You're so much stronger than he ever gave you credit for. Look at everything you've accomplished, everything you've overcome. He can't touch you now. You're safe. I've got you."
Slowly, reluctantly, I pulled back from his embrace, swiping at my damp cheeks. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice ragged. "You shouldn't have to deal with my bullshit."
Jared's brow furrowed. "Hey, you have nothing to apologize for." His hand cupped my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. "I'm here for you, Ash."
I swallowed hard, looking away. "You don't know what you're signing up for. I'm a fucking mess."
"Then talk to me. Help me understand."
The words came haltingly at first, each one feeling like broken glass in my throat. But once I started, it was like a dam breaking, the whole sordid story spilling out of me in a rush.
I told Jared about those early days with Carter, how his attention had felt like a drug, like the validation I'd always craved. How he'd promised to make me a star, to help me share my music with the world.
But the price of that promise had been steep. Demands for perfection, for unquestioning obedience. Barbed words that chipped away at my self-worth, insidious as poison. The slow, inexorable tightening of his control, until I barely recognized myself anymore.
"He made me feel like I was nothing without him," I said hollowly, staring at my hands twisting in my lap. "Like I owed him everything, even myself."
Beside me, Jared went very still. "Did he ever force you to do anything you didn't want to?" His voice was careful, but I could hear the undercurrent of barely leashed violence thrumming beneath.
I shook my head quickly. "No, it wasn't like that. He just knew exactly how to manipulate me. How to make me doubt myself, until I thought I needed him. Until leaving seemed impossible."
Jared blew out a slow breath. "Jesus, Ash. I'm so sorry you went through that. You didn't deserve any of it."
Tears stung my eyes again. I blinked them back furiously, hating how weak I felt. "Logically, I know that. But some part of me still feels like maybe I did something to make him treat me that way. Like it was my fault somehow."
"Hey, look at me." Jared's fingers caught my chin, gentle as he turned my face to his. "Nothing you did or said justified him hurting you like that. He was the one with the power in that situation. He's the one who abused it. Not you."
The conviction in his voice, the fierce protectiveness, settled something deep in my chest. I let out a shuddering breath, letting myself believe him. Just for a moment.