Saving the Rockstar

Chapter 8 Jared

The cool night air kissed my skin as I stood on the balcony. Inside, Asher slept soundly, exhausted from the day's emotional upheaval. But my own mind was far too restless for sleep.

I needed to talk to someone, needed to hear a voice of reason before I did something monumentally stupid. My phone was in my hand before I'd consciously given it the command, my thumb hovering over the contact I knew would give it to me straight. Would call me on my bullshit and snap me out of this fever dream.

It rang twice before the screen filled with Mason's scowling face, his eyes bleary and hair sticking up in all directions.

"Somebody better be dead or dying," he grumbled, voice thick with sleep. "Because if you're calling me at ass o'clock in the morning just to chat about the weather, I swear to God-"

"I think I'm falling for him," I blurted out, the words tripping over each other in their haste to escape. "I think I have a crush on Asher.”

There was a beat of stunned silence, Mason's jaw dropping open in almost comical shock. Then he was lurching upright, sheets falling away to reveal his bare chest as he gaped at me through the screen.

"I'm sorry, what?" he sputtered, eyes wide and disbelieving. "Did you just say you're falling for Asher? As in Asher Roth, your client?"

I winced, feeling my face heat even as a wry smile tugged at my lips. "That would be the one, yeah. I don't know what to do, man." I dragged a hand down my face. "It's not like I planned on catching feelings."

"Holy shit." Mason scrubbed a hand over his face, letting out a low whistle. "When did this happen? How did this happen?"

"I don't know," I admitted, my free hand coming up to rub at the back of my neck. "It's been building, I guess. For a while now."

Looking back, I could see all the little moments that had led me here, the breadcrumbs I'd been too blind or stubborn to acknowledge.

The way my heart had stuttered in my chest the first time I'd seen him sing. The overwhelming urge to gather him into my arms and never let go, to shield him from the world and all its cruelties with the strength of my own body. To be his shelter, his sanctuary, the one place he could fall apart without fear of judgement.

It had been there from the beginning, this thing between us. I'd just been too stubborn, too rigid in my thinking, to see it for what it was.

Asher had carved out a space for himself in my heart. And now that he was there, I didn't know how to evict him. Didn't know if I wanted to, even if I could.

"I feel like I'm losing my goddamn mind, Mason. Like I'm coming out of my skin every time he's near me."

"Well, yeah. That's kind of how it works when you've got it bad for someone." Mason's voice was gentle, understanding. "Especially when that someone is off-limits, for all sorts of complicated reasons."

I huffed out a humorless laugh, my grip tightening around the phone. "Right. Because he's my client, and I'm supposed to be protecting him, not fantasizing about throwing him down on the nearest flat surface and having my wicked way with him."

Mason groaned. "Okay, first of all, I'm going to need you to never say 'wicked way' again, because it makes you sound like a regency romance heroine and that's not a mental image I need in my life."

I flipped him off halfheartedly, feeling my lips twitch in spite of myself.

"And second of all," he continued, his expression sobering, "looks like you've got it bad."

I huffed, annoyed and amused in equal measure. "Gee, thanks for the insight. Any other wisdom you'd like to impart?"

"Oh, I've got plenty. Starting with the fact that you owe me fifty bucks." Mason wagged a finger at the camera. "I believe your exact words were, ' I'll never be dumb enough to fall for a client. ' Pay up, buddy."

A startled laugh punched out of me. "Christ. You're seriously calling in that bet? Now, when I'm having a full-on gay crisis?"

Mason's grin softened into something more sympathetic. "Hey, I'm just messing with you. I know this is heavy shit."

I sighed, slumping against the balcony railing. "That's an understatement. I've never felt like this before, Mase. Not about a man."

It was hard to put into words, the magnetic pull I felt toward Asher. The bone-deep need to hold him, comfort him, chase away the demons that haunted him.

Mason hummed thoughtfully. "So, what, you're having a sexuality crisis on top of everything else?"

"I guess? Fuck, I don't know." I scrubbed a hand through my hair, agitated. "I've always identified as straight. But with Asher, it's like all the old rules don't apply anymore."

"Hey, listen to me." Mason's voice was uncharacteristically serious. "Sexuality is fluid, man. It doesn't have to fit into some rigid box. And labels are bullshit anyway. What matters is how you feel ."

"Easy for you to say," I muttered. "You've always been comfortable being bisexual."

Mason chuckled. "Sure, after years of confusion and self-doubt and a few memorable freak-outs. Sound familiar?"

I rolled my eyes, even as some of the tightness in my chest eased. "Yeah, yeah. I bow to your superior wisdom, oh enlightened one."

"Damn right you do." Mason paused, his expression softening. "For real though, J. Don't get too caught up in labels or expectations. Just follow your heart. See where it leads you."

I swallowed hard around the sudden lump in my throat. "And if it leads me somewhere I can't follow? He's still my client, Mase. It's all kinds of unethical."

"Bullshit," Mason said. "You and I both know you'd rather cut off your own arm than let anything happen to that man, feelings or no feelings. You're the best damn bodyguard I've ever seen. And if anyone can figure out a way to do your job and love that crazy, beautiful disaster of a rock star, it's you."

"God, I hate it when you make sense," I grumbled, but I could feel the corner of my mouth ticking up. "Thanks, man. For talking me off the ledge."

Mason flashed a megawatt smile. "Anytime, J. What else are bros for?"

We said our goodnights and I slipped back into the dark hotel room, trying to be quiet so as not to wake Asher.

No such luck. As I eased the balcony door shut behind me, I heard the rustle of sheets, a soft indrawn breath.

"Jared?" Asher's sleep-roughened voice floated out of the shadows. "Everything okay?"

Guilt pinched at me. I hadn't meant to disturb him. "Yeah. Go back to sleep."

Instead of subsiding, the rustling grew louder. A moment later, the bedside lamp flicked on, illuminating Asher's face. He was sitting up against the headboard, covers pooled around his waist, watching me with eyes that were far too alert for three in the morning.

"Can't sleep either, huh?" I sighed, giving up on stealth and padding over to sit on the edge of his bed.

Asher shrugged one shoulder. "Brain won't shut off."

"I know the feeling." I hesitated, weighing my words. "Wanna talk about it?"

For a long moment, Asher was silent. Then, so quietly I almost missed it, "Do you miss her? Your ex-wife?"

The question caught me off guard, sending a familiar pang through my chest. It had been over a year since the divorce was finalized, but some hurts lingered like old battle scars.

I blew out a long breath. "Honestly? No, not anymore. But I think I miss what we could have been, if I'd gotten my head out of my ass sooner."

Asher made an encouraging sound, a gentle prompt to continue. I gathered my thoughts, picking carefully through the minefield of memory.

"We were so young when we met. Shelby was a firecracker. Whip-smart and funny as hell, with this smile that just lit up the room, you know?"

A ghost of that smile flickered through my mind's eye. The way it had made me feel ten feet tall and invincible, like I could take on the world as long as she was by my side.

Asher hummed in acknowledgement. "What happened?"

I huffed a rueful laugh. "Life happened. The Corps happened. I thought being a Marine was the end-all, be-all. And I was good at it, too. Rose through the ranks, got tapped for special forces. But it meant being gone all the time. Deployments, training exercises. Always another mission."

Regret rose like bile in the back of my throat. "I missed so much. Birthdays, anniversaries. Moments I can never get back. And even when I was home, I wasn't really present, you know? I was always thinking about the next op, the next objective. Shutting down when things got too heavy."

Asher's hand crept across the covers, finding mine. His fingers twined with my own, a silent offer of support.

I squeezed back, taking strength from that small, vital connection. "I remember, we threw this big party for my promotion to staff sergeant. All our friends and family there. Shelby wore this gorgeous dress, had her hair all done up. And I was so proud, you know? Of my accomplishments, of her on my arm. The perfect Marine wife."

My voice wavered, thick with old shame. "But as the party was winding down, she pulled me aside. Told me she was pregnant. And instead of being over the goddamn moon, I went into tactical mode, started talking about how we'd balance my training schedule with doctor's appointments. As if it was just another mission to plan."

I could still see Shelby's face in that moment. The way the joy had slowly leached from her eyes, replaced by a resigned kind of sadness. Like she'd expected me to react that way, but had still held out a tiny scrap of hope that I'd surprise her.

"She lost the baby, a few months later. The doctors said it happened sometimes, that it wasn't anyone's fault. But I couldn't help feeling like maybe it was the universe's way of telling me I wasn't cut out for fatherhood. That I'd already fucked it up before I'd even begun."

Asher made a sound. "That's not on you."

I shook my head, vision blurring. "Isn't it? I was checked out, Ash. Distant. Shelby was going through hell and I couldn't step up. Couldn't be the partner she needed."

I had to pause, take a shuddering breath. It had been so long since I'd let myself examine this, pull back the bandage and expose the still-festering wound beneath.

"Things just fell apart, after that. The silences got longer, the fights got nastier. I was gone more than I was home. And when I was there, it was like we were two strangers sharing space. The connection, the intimacy, it all withered away. Until there was nothing left but resentment and regret."

Asher's grip on my hand tightened, grounding me. "I can't imagine how painful that must have been."

I squeezed my eyes shut, hot tears slipping free. "The day she left, it was like watching a car crash in slow motion. I saw it coming, you know? Could feel her slipping away for months. Years, maybe. But I still wasn't prepared for the moment she walked out the door."

The memory was seared into me. The empty ache of the house after Shelby's presence had been excised from it. The phantom scents of her perfume, her shampoo, slowly fading from our sheets and towels. The crushing weight of failure, of knowing I'd let the most important thing in my life crumble to dust through my own inability to bend.

"After she was gone, it was like I had to rebuild myself from the ground up. Figure out who I was without the titles - Marine, husband, father-to-be. It was the hardest thing I've ever done."

Asher's thumb swept over my knuckles. "But you did it," he said softly. "You survived. You came out the other side."

I laughed wetly. "Yeah. For a given definition of surviving, at least. Some days I still wonder if I'll ever be able to have a real relationship again. If I've fucked myself up too badly to make that kind of connection."

"You will." Asher's voice was low but fierce with conviction. "You have so much love to give. I see it every day, in the way you take care of the people around you. The way you put everyone else first, even when it costs you."

For a long, suspended moment, we just stared at each other. I was abruptly aware of how close we were sitting, the heat of Asher's skin bleeding into mine. The damp fan of his lashes against his cheek, the full curve of his lower lip.

It would be so easy. To lean in, close that last bit of distance. To take his mouth with my own, pour everything I was feeling into the slick slide of lips and tongue. To let my hands map the terrain of his body, learn him by touch and taste and the hitch of his breath.

So fucking easy. Yet so impossibly, terrifyingly hard.

"So," Asher said, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. "I overheard you in the balcony. You have a crush on someone, huh?"

My heart stumbled in my chest. He'd heard that? Fuck.

I tried to play it off, forcing a laugh. "Don't sound so surprised, Ash. I'm not actually a monk, you know."

Asher's lips twitched. "Could've fooled me. I figured you must be fighting off suitors left and right with those devastating good looks and charm."

Despite the anxiety buzzing under my skin, I felt a flare of heat at the compliment. The way Asher's eyes dipped to my mouth, just for a second, before darting away.

Emboldened, I let a hint of suggestion color my voice. "There's only one person I'm interested in fighting for."

Asher's breath hitched, barely audible. "Oh? And who might that be?"

I held his gaze, letting the moment stretch taut between us. Trying to convey with a look all the things I couldn't say aloud. "Someone unattainable. At least for now."

A furrow appeared between his brows. "What do you mean?"

I shrugged one shoulder, aiming for nonchalance. "Just that there are barriers. Professional ones. Personal ones. It's complicated."

Understanding dawned in Asher's eyes. I could practically see the gears turning in his head, the pieces slotting into place.

When he spoke again, his voice was carefully neutral. "This lucky woman. Do I know her?"

And there it was. The perfect out. I could laugh it off, make some vague comment about a girl back home. Let the assumption stand and carry on with our lives, our working relationship, as if this conversation had never happened.

It would be the smart thing to do. The safe thing.

But I was so goddamn tired of playing it safe. Of denying, repressing, locking away parts of myself until I felt like a stranger in my own skin.

So I took a deep breath, and I leaped.

"Bold of you to assume it's a woman."

Asher's eyes widened. His lips parted on a soft, startled exhale. "Oh."

The silence that followed was charged, electric. I could feel my pulse thundering in my ears, my palms going clammy with nerves.

But beneath the fear, there was a wild, reckless hope. Because Asher wasn't running. Wasn't recoiling in pity. He was just looking at me. Like he was seeing me, really seeing me, for the first time.

"Have you ever..." Asher swallowed, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Have you ever thought about kissing a man, Jared?"

And oh, the way my name sounded in that moment. Rough and a little desperate, like a prayer and a plea all in one.

"I've thought about it," I admitted. "More and more, lately."

He nodded slowly. Licked his lips again, a nervous tell. "Have you ever thought about kissing me?"

My heart stopped. Restarted with a painful lurch. This was it. The moment of truth, the point of no return.

I met Asher's gaze head-on, letting him see every ounce of longing, every scrap of terrified desire. "I haven't been able to think about anything else."

Asher's breath left him in a rush. His eyes were huge, pupils blown wide in the low light.

I didn't hesitate. Didn't let the doubts and fears crowd in. I just moved. Leaned in, closing the distance between us, and pressed my mouth to his.

It was tentative at first. A dry, soft brush of lips. But then Asher made a noise, low in his throat, and surged against me. His hands came up to fist in my shirt, hauling me closer, and the kiss caught fire.

I groaned into his mouth, heat sizzling through my veins like lightning. His lips parted and I licked into him, tasting the sweet-sharp tang of desire. It was clumsy, unpracticed, the clack of teeth and the awkward mash of noses. But god, it was perfect. It was everything.

Asher nipped at my bottom lip, soothing the sting with his tongue. "Jared," he panted against my mouth.

A broken sound punched out of me. I tangled my fingers in his hair, angling his head for a deeper kiss. Trying to pour everything I felt, everything I couldn't say, into the hot slide of our mouths.

I was drowning in him. In the wet, filthy sounds of our kisses, the sinuous roll of his body against mine. The ache in my chest was expanding, filling me up until I thought I might shatter with it.

And then, like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head, there was a harsh buzz of my phone on the nightstand.

We jerked apart, panting. Staring at each other with wild eyes, kiss-swollen mouths.

Reality crashed in, swift and merciless. What the fuck was I doing? He was my client, for Christ's sake. This was a line I couldn't uncross, a boundary I couldn't come back from.

But Asher was already moving, scrambling out of the bed like it was on fire. He looked wrecked, tousled in a way that made my fingers itch to reach for him again.

"Asher, wait-"

But he was already bolting out the room, the door snicking shut behind him with a terrible finality.

I slumped back against the pillows, staring blindly at the ceiling. My lips tingled, bruised and tender, a visceral reminder of what had just happened. What I'd just done.

Kissed my client. Kissed Asher . The man I was supposed to be protecting, not lusting after.

I'd crossed a line. Overstepped my boundaries in the most egregious way possible. And now, Asher could barely look at me. Couldn't get away from me fast enough.

The thought of hurting him, of damaging the fragile trust between us made me feel sick. Made the memory of our kiss, seared into my skin like a brand, feel tainted. Dirtied by my own selfishness and lack of control.

I couldn't do this. Couldn't be this, for Asher. He needed me to be strong, steadfast. A port in the storm of his chaotic life. Not some confused asshole who couldn't keep it in his pants.

I rolled over, burying my face in the pillow Asher had vacated. It still smelled like him - that warm, spicy scent that made me ache in ways I didn't have words for.