The Deeper He Hurts (15 page)

He slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way to the back patio. The grill was on and people were clustered together at picnic tables and informal circles of canvas chairs. He glanced over them, hunting for Sawyer and recognizing few among the group. His knowledge of most of the seasonal employees consisted of a name on a page with personal stats. It didn't help that pictures taken at hiring rarely resembled their state while working. And some were definitely tourists who were most likely camping on their lot.

“Grady, War, and Sawyer will be here in a minute,” Rig said, stepping up beside him. “Hopper and Dog are meeting us there.”

Ash frowned, heart hitching. “Why is Sawyer coming? I thought this was a partner meeting.” He wasn't ready to face Sawyer, let alone in an intimate group setting.

Rig shrugged. “It is. But since Sawyer's running a lot of the day trips on his own now, I wanted to hear his thoughts too.”

“And you didn't think to mention this earlier?”

“I didn't think it'd matter.” He leveled a steely look at him. “It doesn't, right?”

He glared right back, every doubt hidden. “No.” Intimidation didn't work on him. He wouldn't have lasted at Kick if it had. “What about our relationship?”

“What about it?” Rig's grin was only slightly evil. “You're the one who made the damn HR rule. I trust you know how to manage it.”

“So you don't care if the others find out?”

“That's your business, not mine.” He turned away. “Let's go. Trooper has things covered here.”

Trooper?
Who the fuck was Trooper? And who in the hell came up with the stupid nicknames? How was he supposed to track employees when no one seemed to go by their given name?

It was easier to stew over nonimportant things like employee names than over the pile of shit he'd created on his own. Forget—that's what he had to do. Forget what he knew. Treat Sawyer the same as ever. Go with it—as Rig had said.

Now to figure out how to do that without fucking everything up.

Sawyer sat back and let the conversation flow around him. The tactic had worked for years. He only needed to laugh at the right moments, shoot back any direct jabs, and keep smiling.

Asher nudged him beneath the table, his leg maintaining contact instead of pulling away. Ignoring him crossed his mind, but there was no reason to. His cranky mood wasn't Asher's fault, not directly at least.

“What?” he asked. The frown he got back said his tone had been too sharp.
Damn it.
He tried to bury his irritation behind another swallow of his beer, but the brew was bitter on his tongue.

“What crawled up your ass and died?” Asher raised a brow in sardonic question. His attempt at humor was surface level only.

He glanced around the table and forced his smile wider. “Not a thing.”

“Right.”

His grin strained his cheeks, but he held it. Asher's disgusted head shake shouldn't have bothered him.
Damn it all to hell.

He rubbed the back of his head and made an attempt to focus on the conversation. The discussion had flowed from trip issues to general concerns and was now down to basic bullshitting. He dipped a cold fry in his ketchup and ate it despite the churning state of his stomach.

Dog let out a loud laugh on his other side. “Screw you, Rig. I haven't seen you navigate the falls without flipping.” The growly tone of his voice reminded him of an angry dog, which he figured might account for his nickname. He'd never asked.

“We haven't seen you do it either,” War hassled him further. Due to the precise line required to run it, the ten-foot drop of Husum Falls had a reputation as being one of the most challenging commercially navigable rapids in the country.

“And you keep giving me the least experienced crew. There's only so much I can do when the people don't respond to my commands.”

“True,” War conceded, his smile spreading.

“You've had some epic flips, though,” Hopper added. “I'd think you'd be tired of swimming by now.”

Not to mention tired of the panic that sets in until all swimmers are accounted for. They might be joking now, but no one breathed easy until everyone was safely on land or back in a raft.

The hassling continued, and Sawyer followed the discussion just enough to know the topic. The rest of him was zeroed in on the silent man whose leg was still braced against his. He could move away from the contact. Just like he could've chosen another chair instead of sitting next to Asher. It annoyed him to admit it, but he liked being near the guy.

That in itself should've set off all kinds of retreat signals. Damn if Asher hadn't gotten to him, though. Or through his walls at least. Some of them anyway.

“Are you staying the night?” he asked under his breath, turning his head just enough to direct the sound of his voice but not actually looking at Asher. Their text exchange hadn't included that information.

“No. We're heading back after this.”

The disappointment hit too hard. He shouldn't care. It was dangerous to care, and even more so to desperately want to see someone or to wish they'd be around longer.

“No chance to play then.” He'd stated the obvious, but it covered the longing that proclaimed he actually missed Asher. Which was snuggled in close to his desire to see more of him. To touch him and do nothing but fuck and talk.

Talk. Another thing he'd avoided before Asher.

“Only Rig knows,” Asher said. “About us.”

He snapped his head around so quickly his neck cracked. His scan of Asher's expression gave him no additional information. “And?” He played the dumb card just in case he'd jumped to the wrong conclusion.

Asher glanced at the other guys, then gave a slight head shake in answer. He nudged his leg again to reinforce the unspoken.

“Good.” That was good. Then why did he want to plant a kiss on Asher right there and declare their relationship to the other partners?

Asher shrugged, looked away. “It wouldn't matter that much if they all knew.”

Matter to whom? “I'm not sticking around, Asher.” Was the reminder for himself or Asher? Three weeks and he was out of there. He'd be back in Moab before Labor Day and Asher would be part of his past. A brief escape that'd kept him sane when he'd begun to doubt his sanity.

Still did.

Loneliness was a bitch that'd crept into his doubts and raided his mind. He wasn't acknowledging his heart. Not if he wanted to keep that fucker locked down. He snorted at himself. Right. Like he had any chance of that when Asher had blown the door away and was most likely going to hold the damn thing captive when Sawyer walked away.

“I know.”

He waited for more, but nothing came. What did he expect? Want? Saying more could shatter the tenuous thing they had, and he wasn't ready to let it go. Not yet.

His evenings spent with Asher were the best he'd had since the fire. He looked forward to them, and it wasn't just about the pain. In fact, it had very little to do with that anymore.

The walls started to close in, his world darkening around the edges with each hard beat of his pulse. Heat simmered over his skin, hairs standing up in warning.

Fuck
. He shoved back, mumbled “Bathroom,” and wove his way through the tables and out of the restaurant. The evening air greeted him with a refreshing wave of lingering heat and cooling breeze. He made it around the corner of the building before he had to lean against the wall and concentrate on breathing. Long, slow breaths that lowered his heart rate and lifted the weight on his chest.

The crunch of the footsteps reached him before they rounded the building, Asher's presence simmering over him. He knew it was him before he opened his eyes. Everything in him screamed to get closer and run at the same time.

Asher ran a hand up his arm, cupped the back of his neck. He arched into the touch despite needing to resist it.

“Can I do anything?”

Go away. Hold me
. The absurdity racing through him came out in a sorry-ass cackle. He snapped his mouth shut when the off-note reached his ears.
Shit
. He was losing it over a guy. A damn guy who shouldn't mean anything to him.

Yet he did.

“I don't know what I'm doing.” The repeated statement tumbled out in a bid for understanding. He'd been alone for years, but never so lost. Floundering.

Fuck
. He shook himself and stepped away from Asher's touch. A hard face scrub got rid of the last of the fuzzy-headed sensation left over from the near panic attack.

“Sorry.” He grinned, swagger rolling over him in a protective cloak. “I'm good.” He shot Asher a wink. “Just needed some air.”

Asher stared at him, expression flat. A little wrinkle was wedged between his brows, though, his eyes intent, in the way that saw through Sawyer so clearly. “What are you doing?”

He swiped at an itch under his nose and looked away. “I'm going to head back.” He motioned toward the parking lot. “Can you let the others know?”

Asher studied him for another long moment before he shook his head, disappointment flashing. “Sure. I'll tell them your dinner didn't sit well.”

“Fine.” Anything was better than the truth.

He turned to leave, but Asher caught his arm, stopping him. He was crowding again, stepping close enough that his breath gusted over Sawyer's ear. Sawyer bit his lip to stay silent, his moan lodged in his aching throat.

“I told you I wouldn't push,” Asher said, voice low and intimate. His musky spice scent wound around him, ticking Sawyer's longing and triggering more regrets. “But I won't be pushed away, either.” The nip struck the tender side of his neck. The sting zinged deep and spread in a warm buzz outward from the contact point. “Just let us happen, Sawyer. Stop overthinking it.”

“How?” The question had snuck out between his doubts.

Asher's airy snort tickled his ear. “I'm still working on that myself.” He stepped away, the space gaping between them even though he was only a foot or two away. “But I think if we keep doing what we've been doing, we'll be fine.”

Hooking up whenever he was free. Meeting at Asher's for scenes and other things—which he wouldn't focus on. “I can do that.”

“So can I.” Asher smiled, a softness smoothing over his features. This was the Asher he saw at his home. The private guy who let his guard down and stopped thinking long enough to watch the sunset with Sawyer, or debate the pros and cons of green energy until they conceded mutual defeat.

The guy who gave Sawyer things he'd never acknowledged he'd needed and still didn't push him when he was so obviously holding back. Asher's restraint was amazing, his patience even more so.

Three weeks—until he had to leave. What if he wanted more than that? That thought was too scary to contemplate.

Ash sprawled on the grass, chest heaving as he sucked in air. The sun blinded him and beat down on his overheated skin.

“Damn,” Sawyer huffed, flopping beside him. “You kicked my ass on that last sprint.” His breaths were deep, each gasp audible. “You didn't warn me about the damn hills.”

The scent of fresh-cut grass was driven out by sweat and man. He inhaled, holding it in until his lungs protested. “I thought they were obvious.” Their five-mile run had been intensified by the hills around his house, the gentle inclines more deceptive and therefore harder than the blatantly steep ones.

“I'm used to running on flat.”

“And I thought you were the rugged adventure man who could leap tall buildings in a single bound.”

Sawyer shoved his shoulder. “Fucker.”

Ash let his chuckle roll out, an easy lassitude spreading through him. The heat of the day had abated, the early-evening air comfortable as he soaked up the sunlight before the trees blocked it. Sawyer joining him on his run was yet another twist in their ever-changing relationship.

“We should move inside and get some water,” Ash said with reluctance. He spent too much time indoors, which was ironic given where he worked.

“Nah.” Sawyer patted around on the grass until he found Ash's hand, and squeezed it. “This is nice.”

Ash didn't look over. Didn't even open his eyes. But his pulse leaped, muscles tensing. Somehow he managed to quell his instinct to yank his hand away. Ruining this new link with Sawyer by letting his closet-case fears out would wreck more than the moment.

His family rarely dropped in on him unannounced. And even if someone did, so what? He was an adult. Successful. Independent.

“Sorry.” Sawyer slid his hand away, the loss stark.

“No.” Ash snagged his hand back. “It's okay.”

It was more than okay. He tightened his hold, Sawyer returning the silent communication. How crazy was it that holding hands on his front lawn was just as intimate, and more nerve-racking, than anything he'd ever done in a dungeon? Or was “pathetic” the better word?

Sawyer drew his hand away after a moment and folded his arms under his head, a contented sigh drifting out. This was nice. Peaceful. Ash was both invigorated and drained, his mind almost restful.

Coming out to his family was a hurdle he hadn't tackled, but was coming closer to doing every day. He'd always told himself he would—if he was in a relationship that meant something to him. Did Sawyer qualify? Should it matter?

He should come out for himself, not anyone else.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?” he asked, unsure if he'd get a straight answer or more avoidance. He turned his head to study Sawyer, squinting through the brightness to catch his wince.

The silence lengthened, broken up by a chirping bird and a dog barking in the distance. A breeze rustled the leaves and cooled his flesh. Perspiration beaded on Sawyer's temple, dampened his hair. The urge to wipe it away surged up in Asher, along with the rush to retract his question. But he blocked them both.

Sawyer wet his lips. “No.” He swallowed. “Not since high school.”

So, no. Getting an answer to why was a long shot, so he went for something easier. “But you're out. Right?”

“I guess.” He shrugged. “I've never thought too much about it. I just am.”

A novelty Ash had never had the luxury of. “That's…”
Cool? Amazing? Strong? All of the above?
And how did he state that without highlighting his own weakness?

“It's not anything, Asher. Don't make it a big deal.” Sawyer used his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his face. “I have no one to be out to, so it never came into play for me.”

No one to be out to
. Ouch. He knew that—or had deduced that based on his snooping. But the extent of Sawyer's solitude hadn't really hit home until just now.

“So you have no family?” He'd eased into the question, fully expecting Sawyer to dodge or bolt. No relatives at all? No one to hassle or annoy him? To love him?

Sawyer sat up, and Ash was right behind him, ready to stop him from running, but he just wrapped his arms around his knees and stared into the distance. Ash released a long breath and reclined on his side, head propped on his hand. Space he could give.

“My family died when I was a teenager.”

His clipped words were just loud enough to reach Ash. He curled his fingers into the grass to keep from wrapping Sawyer up and holding him tight—fuck where they were. But the “Don't touch me” vibes were radiating from his stiff back and clenched jaw.

“I'm sorry.” He hesitated, laid a hand on his arm anyway. He had to offer some comfort. His own heart was breaking. He couldn't imagine the toll Sawyer's had taken.

Sawyer looked back at him, a halo of sunlight dancing on the blond ends of his hair. “Just another thing that is.”

But it had affected him. Changed him and his life. How could it not have?

Sawyer stretched his arms over his head, twisted until his back cracked. There was a forced smirk in place when he stretched out and faced Ash on the grass. Asher tensed, uncertain of what was coming.

Sawyer's smile slowly fell away, a lingering sadness remaining. He lowered his gaze, clenched his hand, which was only inches away from Ash's.

Leap or stay safe? Take a risk or live in regret?

Ash wrapped his hand around Sawyer's fist, worked his fingers apart until he could lace his between them. Sawyer's breath hitched, released before he looked up, golden eyes wary. He studied him, expression unreadable, and Ash searched right back. How had he found the one guy who didn't want to be found?

“This is a big thing for you.” Sawyer lifted their linked hands. “Even here, in front of your house.”

“Yes.” He couldn't lie. “More so here.”

“Not at the club? Or work?”

“No. I have nothing to hide there. Or lose.”

Sawyer smiled, a touch of his dimple showing. “It's interesting how much we balance our actions based on that.”

Ash had no response. His entire life had been balanced on exactly that. And Sawyer had already lost so much. What did he have left to lose?

“Heavy topic,” Ash finally mumbled.

“Should we go fuck instead?” Sawyer waggled his brows, his childish antics yanking a laugh from Ash. He shoved him with their joined hands.

“I'll never turn down a good fucking from you.” Never from him.

“So, uh. Yeah.” His smile faded, a frown pulling low. “I was surprised by that.”

“What?” Now Ash was frowning. “That I bottom sexually? You knew I wasn't a Dom.”

“I know.” He shrugged, glanced down. “But the stigma's still there.” He looked up. “Or is it the image? The strong sadist is always a top, no matter the situation.”

“What about the pain-slut bottom?” Ash countered. “Always the receiver, right?” He grinned at Sawyer's eye roll.

“Shut up.” Sawyer flopped to his back, yanked his hand free to drag his fingers through his hair. “I just think it's cool. All right? That I didn't have to fight you on expected roles and rules. You never assumed anything based on my pain needs.”

“I can say the same about you.” Ash didn't know if his heart could get any fuller. They fit on so many levels, way more than he'd expected. Bottoming in bed with Sawyer was one of the few times he could really let go and just be. No worries or directing or need to control a damn thing.

Sawyer launched to his feet, hand extended to Ash. “You could.” He hauled Ash up, grin widening. “But I'm much better at demonstrating than talking.” He swatted Ash on the ass and jogged toward the house. “There's a really nice shower waiting to be used,” he called back. “With room for two.”

Ash's laughter burst free, happiness carrying him after his lover. Sawyer was so much more than a casual play partner, and so worth whatever he had to risk to keep him in his life.