Admiring Ash (Love Letters Book 1) by Anyta Sunday (6)

River left, and Ash sank against the cold kitchen counter, fighting off a smile.

Other than Danielle, he’d rarely spent much time in someone else’s company. It was . . . dangerously easy. Addictive.

He needed to focus on finding information on his family, and nothing else. Not the way his body tightened every time River stepped close. Especially not the gentle flutters in his chest when River spoke about Lester.

Danielle was his focus. Always would be.

Speaking of. “Hey. You’re home.”

Danielle shut the door and tossed her keys on the coffee table. “I thought better about ditching you for Billy.”

“That right?” Ash said, more relieved than he cared to admit.

“What’s for dinner then?” She opened the fridge and gasped. “What happened to our fridge? There’s actual food in here.” She looked at him with a hopeful smile. “Does this mean you sold Silver Pines?”

Ash shifted against the counter. Stuffed his hands in his pockets. “River bought all this.”

“River, huh? You making a new friend?”

Friend. That sounded good. Safe. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Ash stared at River across the console. He couldn’t help it. River looked completely different. Dressed for the land. Heavy boots and thick shirt. The whole car smelled intensely of dried grass.

“Work gear, sorry,” River said. “I’ll zip home and change after I drop you off.”

“No!” Ash cleared his throat and shrugged. “I mean, whatever. You don’t have to. If I can wear Come get me kitty print T-shirts, you can rock Silver Pines in that.”

River side-eyed him. “Okay. I might have a second pair of shoes in the trunk.” He glanced over with a curious spark in his eye. “What, ah, T-shirt are you wearing today?”

“No kitties. Or anything pink.”

“Pity.” River reached out, pretending to pull up his hoodie for a peek. “Is it shrink-wrapped onto you?”

Ash snorted and whacked River’s arm.

“Ow. Just like Lester. Please, God, don’t ever use a cane.”

They shared a smirk. The air seemed to thicken, Ash’s heartbeat thundering. He needed to hightail it to Silver Pines—any excuse to break away from the tension.

Yet he wanted the journey to last for hours.

“So,” River said, rubbing his palms over the steering wheel. “Your sister is off to space camp.”

River had showed up right when Ash was hugging her goodbye. “Yep. Got the whole place to myself.”

“When was the last time that happened?”

“Space camp last year.”

“Damn. Will you know what to do with yourself?”

“Probably not. Sleep in. Indulge in me time.”

“You time. What does that involve?”

Good question. His whole life revolved around jumping from job to job. He didn’t really have any indulgent routines, except the ones he spared time for in the shower . . . “Uh, I’m not sure yet. Maybe I’ll find something to read.”

“You own Silver Pines. You’ll never want for something to read again.”

“Eh, I prefer cozy mysteries and fantasy to all that fancy fiction.”

“Fancy fiction!” River snickered. “I like it. A lot of the rarer books are classics. There is a whole shelf of Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.”

“You’ll have to show me.”

River’s big hands skimmed up the curve of steering wheel and back down again. “Speaking of mysteries. How did Danielle get into space camp? Did she win a scholarship?”

Ash winced. “She won one last year. This year, we saved for it.”

“Impressive,” River said.

“No,” Ash said. “That is what family should do. Can you turn more Miley on? Or maybe Sabrina Carpenter?”

“In the mood for singing?”

“For hearing your off-tune singing again.”

River clapped him gently over the head, and they smirked at each other.

Ten minutes of fudging lyrics later, they pulled up outside Zeros. “Second breakfast!” River proclaimed.

“What are you, a hobbit?” Ash climbed out of the car, following River to the café.

“Only if hobbits are tall, dark-haired, and handsome.”

“Have you looked in a mirror lately? Your hair is not dark.”

River strode forward and opened the door to the café. He smiled broadly as Ash walked through. “Breakfast is very much on me.”

“Who are you messaging?” River asked Ben as they munched on muffins, all three of them perched at the counter. Ben in the middle, smirking at his phone. “Looks like it’s a boyfriend.”

Ben snorted. “How would you know what that looks like?” For Ash’s sake, he explained in a loud whisper. “River doesn’t do boyfriends.”

No, River didn’t do pining after men. Didn’t do guys who were curious. And he most certainly didn’t do guys who Lester begged to keep off-limits.

Something he might have to remind himself.

“I’m chatting to a potential date,” Ben said.

“So that’s my brother you’re chatting with?” River peered at the phone and Ben whipped it out of view.

Ben rang out a high-pitched laugh. “Your brother? Dating? I think you better write him off as a lost cause.”

“Is that what you’ve done?”

Ben’s expression flickered. “I don’t chase after guys who will never return my feelings.”

Ash grunted in agreement, stealing River’s attention.

Leaning forward, River fished for eye contact, raising a questioning brow when Ash looked up glumly from his muffin.

“Ben makes sense,” Ash said. “Nothing good comes of chasing after men, period.”

Ben clapped him over the back in solidarity. “Someone who feels me.”

“Speaking from experience, Ash?” River teased.

“My mother played that game,” Ash explained. “Every guy was the guy. It was always love. Until it turned to ash.” He pointed to himself in a way that had River clamping his hand around his coffee cup. “Like getting stuck with me.”

“Did your mother name you after her mistakes?” he asked tightly.

Ash shrugged, like it was no big deal. It was a big fucking deal. Who did that? “You’d think with my name as a reminder that nothing good came from men, she’d have learned her lesson.”

“That’s messed up,” Ben said, expressing River’s thoughts exactly.

“What family isn’t, right?” Ash tried to joke it off.

Not good enough. River felt his pain from here. He wanted to take it away. Lester would have wanted him to.

Ash might not have known it, but he had better family than his mom.

River would make sure Ash knew it.

He slid off the counter, boots thumping against the hardwood floor. He ignored Ben’s curious glance and stood before Ash.

“What?” Ash said, nervously twisting his coffee cup.

River plucked it from his hand and handed it to Ben to hold.

He grasped Ash’s hand, warm against his. He tugged Ash off the counter. “Come with me. I want to show you something you’ll like.”

Ash practically trotted to keep up with River’s brisk pace as they strode to the back of the chapel.

River pumped Ash’s hand while Ash tried not to dwell on the little shivers jumping through him with every step. “Where are we going?”

“To the crypt.”

Ash glanced at him, puzzled. “What makes you think I’ll like a crypt? Do I seem like the morbid type?” He lowered his voice. “Is it because I named my cat Chucky?”

River grinned. “No. I’m taking you to the heart of Lester’s life. His home.”

Nervousness replaced the flutter in Ash’s veins, making it difficult to think. He should have guessed River would eventually take him to Lester’s. It shouldn’t have been the jolt to the soul it was to stand near the chapel on a brick path, surrounded by a stylishly wild garden.

Thick tomato vines grew at the back fence, the path lined with rose bushes.

River stood at his side, squeezed close by crowding white roses. “His whole life was in this chapel. It says everything about your granddad.”

“Does it?”

“He was traditional like a rose and loved simple beauty like the chapel. Let’s go inside.”

River led him into the chapel crypt. They passed through a short hall with two bedrooms off to one side. They continued to the open kitchen that shared a living room.

Ash absorbed the cozy room. Like the store above, bookshelves lined the walls. A desk stretched out of the shelves, piled high with leather journals and loose papers. The air in here tasted tepid, though. Unlived in. Dust had settled on shelves, and a crumpled blanket lay on a faded floral couch.

Ash couldn’t take his eyes off it.

His granddad had curled up in it.

He shivered as he walked around the room, finger trailing over the edge of Lester’s desk.

He picked up a thick Moleskine journal stuffed with letters.

River told him stories about Lester’s quirks, and how he dogeared all his favorite passages. “He was always fighting the urge to mark his books. Fighting and failing.”

River tapped the cover of a gardening book on the kitchen counter. One of many books stapling the knotty wood. “He made me read this to him when I was twelve. When I finished, he took me to the back shed and showed me how to use his gardening tools.”

The fondness in River’s voice cloaked Ash warmly. He wanted more stories. He wanted his own.

“That’s an idea.” River smiled as he moved around Ash and picked up a smart phone off the desk. He undid the back and slipped out the SIM card. “Pass me that brick of yours.”

Ash stilled. Was River giving him Lester’s phone? “What are you doing?”

River looked at him like he should know better than to ask obvious questions.

Ash fumbled for his Nokia and handed it over. Two minutes later, River planted the smart phone—attached to a charger, plugged into the outlet—in the hand that didn’t clutch Lester’s moleskin journal. “We need to devise a better plan than pre-pay. But this is much better for now.”

The phone felt unfamiliar, full of possibility. Like everything about Silver Pines.

Ash stared at River. He didn’t know what to say.

River gave him a slow, devastatingly warm smile. His gaze rolled over Ash to his hands. “Lester’s journal. That’s a good place to start. No, wait. First pictures . . .”

Air stirred over Ash’s face as River twisted and withdrew a large album from the bookshelves. He moved to the couch where he set the album down at the edge. Carefully, he folded the blanket and draped it over the arm. He sat and patted the cushion next to him.

Ash rested the phone on the desk to charge, and settled next to him, journal resting on his lap. The old cushions dipped and the sides of their legs touched softly.

River didn’t move away. He pressed into it and showed him the photo album.

“He wasn’t great at documenting photos, but there is a random collection of pictures of his life.”

Ash sucked in a breath at Lester’s up-close portrait. Wrinkles creased eyes exactly like his own. Lester’s wide smile bordered on mischievous, exactly as River described him. Like a friend you wanted in your life.

Pages and pages of photos gave Ash a glimpse into his granddad’s life. He’d taken hundreds of proud photos of River’s adolescent milestones.

River turned another page, voice dropping. “This should be your gap-toothed smile. Your first time winning a medal. Your graduation.”

Ash blinked back heat pooling in his eyes. “Thank you.” For showing him this. For saying that.

“Of course. Lester would have wanted me to.”

“Right.” A tender reminder that everything River was doing, he was doing it for Lester.

Ash shifted, distancing their legs. He wouldn’t let it bother him—it didn’t matter. Learning about the Mallorys was what mattered.

River turned to the back of the book where another teenage boy stared back at the camera. Brown eyes but the same high cheekbones and pink lips as Ash.

Phillip Mallory. His father.

Ash jerked to his feet and clumsily grabbed Lester’s journal.

River jerked forward and caught the paper and envelopes falling from it.

“I forgot to cancel one of my cleaning gigs,” Ash blurted.

River frowned, slipping the stationery back into the journal trembling in Ash’s hand. “Ash, it’s okay to be upset—”

Ash pulled back, stumbling on his way into the hall. “I gotta go.”

Seeing those pictures had erased the last slither of uncertainty. It was true.

Ash was a Heartford and a Mallory.

He bussed home and curled up with Chucky on the couch. It should have been a relief having the place to himself.

Except, he wanted to keep his thoughts busy. Wanted Danielle to give him a hug.

He sighed. Petted his cat. Stared at Lester’s journal.

His new phone rang while it charged. Ash breathlessly answered the unknown number.

Not River. Rather, one of the suits. They wanted to prepare the paperwork, if he was interested.

Two hundred thousand dollars.

He forced himself to keep Danielle in mind. His stomach twisted sharply as he agreed to meet them at Silver Pines next Friday.

Chucky’s purrs didn’t calm his guilt. The avocado toast he ate for dinner made it worse.

Shelly calling to see if he’d work on Friday made him want to crawl into bed and drown in blankets. He coughed down the line. Made up a flu.

As soon as she let him go, he dragged himself to the shower and luxuriated in a ten-minute longer downpour than usual.

Wet hair and wearing a pair of briefs, he pulled out the couch into his bed and curled into his blankets. River had messaged him asking if he was okay, and Ash stared at the message far too long before answering.

River wrote back almost immediately.

River was not asking him because he wanted to spend time with Ash.

He was being friendly and generous with him because he missed Lester.

Ash needed to back up. He was used to restraining his attraction to men, but it was proving more difficult around River.

They hadn’t even known each other a week, yet every time River smiled, Ash broke into butterflies.

Exactly the insta-feelings he had to be wary of.

Ash. It would only turn to ash.

Men were best avoided. No matter how much his body ached for a taste.

He pushed away the phone and trained his thoughts elsewhere. Lester’s journal.

The entries were affirmations more than detailed accounts of his day. Lists of things he wanted to do. Things he was grateful for.

Most days, River was on that list.

Lester was grateful for his friendship. His letters. His kindness. His humor. His patience.

Grateful River was giving him another chance to be a better role model.

There was no direct reference to Phillip, but the whole journal read like a father missing his son.

Had he and Lester met, they would have had that ache in common.

Restless energy itching in his veins, River sat in an empty, dark movie theatre. Alone. Landon had bailed at the last minute, and Ben had schlepped to the circus for tightrope training.

Not that he was paying much attention to the movie other than noticing that the main male character resembled Ash. Thick golden hair. Defined cheekbones. A runner’s build, fit and slim.

Watching Ash leave earlier with a glaze of sadness in his eyes had been difficult. He’d wanted to chase after him and offer something to make him better.

He needed to clamp down on that tender reaction. Needed to clamp down on the physical ones too.

He knew that Ash noticed his body—on account of the multiple, full-length lingering gazes—but he did it with such blatant fear in his eyes, River guessed Ash didn’t want to be attracted to a man.

Damn. Lester would turn in his grave if he knew where River’s thoughts meandered during the day. During the night . . .

He rubbed his face and sank deep into the plush movie chair. Not telling River about Ash had been one of Lester’s biggest fails. The emotions of it all were screwing with his head.

If Lester had just told him who Ash was . . . If River could have asked questions . . .

What would he have asked?

What would it change?

He stood up and sidled out of the aisle. Too much tension.

Maybe he needed a drink.

After a sip of pale ale at the crowded student-bar, The Murky Crow, a guy approached River. Not just any guy, Duke.

Duke slipped into the booth opposite him and stole his beer. “Hey, you made it out,” he called over pounding music.

River kicked out his legs and leaned back into the bass-vibrating plastic booth. Duke competed with Chance for Playboy of the Year. Unlike Chance, he was a good guy. If you could read his cheekiness.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here. I work tomorrow.”

Duke licked beer foam off his upper lip. “You’re over your self-inflicted dry spell. You want to fuck.”

“Is that an offer?” Duke was stunning, but River didn’t screw around with friends. Too messy.

Duke flipped him off. “An observation. I prefer not to know who’s dick I’m sucking.”

It sounded crass. Empty. Lonely.

Sounded safe.

Duke inclined his head to the booth across from them, where two solid men scanned the dance floor for fresh meat. “Shall I invite over those guys?” Duke asked.

River’s dick wasn’t in it. His head, even less.

He rubbed a palm over the phone in his pocket, wanting to take it out and message Ash.

He laughed at himself and slid out of the booth. “Sorry, Duke. I’m a lost cause tonight.”

Ash returned to Silver Pines. He took a box of Lester’s journals and letters and settled himself on an armchair, reading Mallory history. River was working at the cashier counter, head bowed over the store laptop. Every few minutes, Ash felt the heat of River’s gaze prickle over his profile.

Twice it made him fumble with old letters written by ten-year-old River to his granddad. Messy, scrawled writing, about SimCity and the town he was designing. He had wanted Lester to name the library that River was building for him.

More glances ping-ponged between them, almost like River wanted to say something but didn’t know how to start.

He prayed to the alabaster window that none of the letters would disintegrate in his clammy grip.

Stupid Heartford curse that made his body respond like this.

Unwilling to let attraction carry him away, he slammed his eyes shut and concentrated on the feel of the chapel. The wood and stone and high ceilings keeping the place cool.

Another prickling glance had Ash snapping Lester’s journal shut. A clot of dust flicked into his eyes. He blinked through the sting.

“You only have mine,” River said, voice closer now. Almost at his side.

“Yours?”

“My letters. Lester’s replies are in the chest on the top shelf behind the counter.”

“Oh.” He fought not to blush. Reading River’s letters hadn’t helped extinguish the attraction. They painted a deeper picture of the smiling man beside him.

“Come. Let’s have lunch at Lester’s. I went shopping this morning.”

River’s large warm hand snagged Ash’s, and he gently tugged him. Ash folded into the touch all the way to the crypt.

River made sandwiches in Lester’s kitchen. He spread a thick layer of butter on bread and layered honey-glazed ham on top of it.

Ash leaned against the wooden counter, trying to rub the grit out of his eye.

River hummed, and spoke softly. “If you don’t sell, you and Danielle could live here.”

Ash roamed around the room, picturing his sister living here with him. No divider curtain necessary. Enough space for his couch bed without it unfolding into the kitchen.

“You’d save on rent,” River said. “Something to think about.”

Ash plunked onto the couch and rested his head back.

Could he run Lester’s legacy?

Would he be a fool to give up so much money?

As if reading his mind, River said, “I mean, I can tell you it’s better than two hundred grand. But you have to figure it out for yourself.”

Ash closed his eyes and let out a tired laugh. When he lifted his head, River was setting two sandwiches on a small glass coffee table in front of the couch.

River gazed at him with that I have something to say intensity.

A bit of dust in his eye shifted like a grain of salt under his eyelid, and he blinked hard, hoping it would dislodge.

“You look like you want to say something,” Ash said. “What is it?”

“I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

Ash stopped blinking. “That’s ominous. What do you know?”

“You ran out after seeing Phillip’s picture yesterday. . .”

“Retrospectively, that was a little dramatic.” Ash laughed at himself. “I guess I want to know if Phillip knew about me. Whether I should bother contacting him.”

River winced.

Ash’s voice caught. “What did you mean, you don’t want me to be disappointed?”

River’s chest expanded as he took a breath. “I’ll give you his address, but . . .”

Their gazes met with a knowing hitch. Ash spoke low. “But what?”

River let out the rest of his breath. “I tracked him down after Lester passed. I needed to see if he contested the will, he didn’t. Didn’t want know anything about his dad. . .”

Ash heard what River was trying to say. His father might not want to know anything about him, either.

He might not want anything to do with Ash, either.

River watched Ash clamp up on the couch. Resignation flashed over Ash’s face before he hurriedly schooled it.

He blinked, fast and furious like he had a few moments ago. River thought it was Ash’s attempt to hold back his emotions, but the blinking was too exaggerated.

“What’s wrong with your eyes?”

“Other than them being a carbon copy of a granddad I never knew?” He lifted a finger and rubbed his right eye. “Bit of grit stuck on my eye.”

He prodded his eyeball again.

River moved between Ash’s feet and tilted his face toward the light. Ash’s jaw tensed under River’s touch for a second before he relaxed into it. “Going to play doctor on me?”

“I am qualified.”

“Make me feel better, then.”

River smiled. “I’ll do my best. Spread your legs, I need to kneel closer.”

Ash parted his legs and River kneeled into the cushion, framed by Ash’s thighs. “Look up.” River gently lifted Ash’s eyelid. “Up and to the left. There it is.”

River lifted a finger to dab the offending speck of grit, but Ash flinched.

“I won’t hurt you,” River said in the cool voice he used with his horses. “You’ll be fine.”

“Ha!” Ash quickly sealed his mouth.

River’s fingers shifted away from Ash’s eye and dropped to the bridge of Ash’s nose. He wasn’t stupid enough to misunderstand the meaning of that huff. “Trust me. I mean it, Ash.”

Ash shivered and it carried through River’s body. He swallowed and angled his face toward the light again. “You’re the doctor.”

River leaned forward and inspected Ash’s eye again. Soft breath funneled down his neck and he found himself shifting closer. Knees nudged the seam of Ash’s crotch. A little groan heated River.

River clamped down on the reaction and carefully removed the grit in Ash’s eye.

“You have deft fingers.”

Ash’s voice vibrated through him, urging River to make a move. The playful twitch of those lips begged to be kissed as much as River’s lips begged to do the kissing.

He wanted to slide his hands into Ash’s tangled hair and let their lips collide.

He wanted Ash under him, mapping every inch of his skin with his mouth.

He wanted Ash not to be off-limits . . .

But he was.

“Pass me some paper. A pen,” Ash said the moment River moved off him.

River raised a brow but found him what he needed. “Don’t you want to eat your sandwich first?”

“After.”

Ash wrote a few brief lines of text to his father. Simple questions he wanted answered.

He wanted it done and out of the way so he could know the truth. Know that his father knew about him and didn’t care.

So he could move on.

“Done.” Ash folded the paper. “Can you put this in an envelope? Address it?”

River took the shaking paper. “Ash . . .”

“This sandwich looks delicious.” Ash lifted it off the plate.

River stared at him. “Are you sure—”

“Honey ham smells great too.” Ash took a bite.

“I’m just wondering—”

“Creamy cheese tastes amazing,” he said over a mouthful.

River shook his head with a smirk. He moved to Lester’s desk and was slipping Ash’s letter into an envelope. “I’m sure it feels and sounds great as well?”

Ash fought a blush. “A sensory delight.”

“That’s quite a sandwich. Whoever made it must be equally if not more delightful.”

“He’s a real treat,” Ash said drily.

River laughed. The sound was downright addictive.

Ash was in trouble.

Back at home, River slumped on the sofa next to his twin. “You need to move on with your life.”

It burst out of him. Words he’d been saying passive-aggressively for months now straightforward and to the point.

Landon shot him an irritated look. “Fuck off.”

“Look at yourself. You’re a pining mess. All you do is use the gym and watch Chance via the local channel. You’re wasting your potential. He’s straight—”

Landon leaped from the couch with more energy than River had seen in months. “Chance is not straight. He’s so deep in the closet he’s lost in Narnia. But he’ll figure it out. And when he does . . .”

“You’ll be waiting for him? What if it takes him a decade? Two?” River stood up and met his brother eye to eye. “What if he just doesn’t want you?”

Landon jerked backward, eyes shimmering with the pain of those words.

River almost wished he’d never said them, but he couldn’t stand to see his brother waste away another year. He wanted Landon to face the hurt and part ways with it forever.

“River.” The hard edge of Ben’s voice sounded from behind him, and he twisted to find Ben glaring at him with an intensity River had never seen. “That’s enough.”

Landon left the room, slamming the door behind him.

River winced and started to defend himself. Then stopped. He raked a hand through his hair. “Fuck, Ben. I want him happy.”

Ben’s gaze softened a fraction, and he sighed. “Yeah. Me too. And, I get it . . . the frustration.”

“Shit. I’ll make it up to him. What do you think. A Talisker evening?”

“Give him a day or two to cool down.” Ben collapsed into the sofa where Landon had been sitting. “What set you off, anyway?”

River sighed. “I just dropped Ash off.”

“Right. Chastising yourself for being attracted to someone you shouldn’t. Taking it out on Landon.”

Hell, he wasn’t too far off. He was meant to offer Ash friendship, meant to help him for Lester. Not want . . . more.

River couldn’t deny it. Ash attracted him.

More than once today, it had taken Herculean effort not to whip around and crowd Ash against a wall. He wanted to pull him tight against him. Breathe him in. Discover all his idiosyncrasies.

He shook off the reaction. Had he not learned anything?

There was a reason he preferred fucking around. He didn’t want heartbreak like his brother’s.

And maybe . . . maybe the idea of letting someone in just to have them disappear hurt too much.

He rubbed the sting in his chest.

“You all right?” Ben asked.

“Yeah.”

But he wasn’t sure how long that would be the case.

Ash paced around his empty apartment. It was painfully clear that he didn’t have a life. Looking after Danielle was all he knew.

Without her here, he did nothing but stew about things he could not control. Like his father not wanting anything to do with Silver Pines. He didn’t need a man like that.

Right?

He slung himself on the couch and continued reading River’s letters.

The scrawled writing of a young boy slowly morphed into elegant script, and the contents of his letters changed from detailed descriptions of his imaginary worlds to probing personal questions, like how to overcome being jealous of his best friend to more philosophical ones: Can kindness change the world? What is happiness?

Ash clung to each letter, reading every line carefully. River expressed how much he loved Lester. That he looked up to him but also thought of him as a best friend and closest confidant.

Ash eagerly opened the next letter dated a few days later.

God, Ash got it. He didn’t want to pine for anyone, either. A chance to experience life? That was what he wanted.

His phone bleeted.

Not really. Unfortunately, it was a nice voice—both written and spoken. A voice that made it difficult to keep his focus off River’s mouth . . .

Ash laughed.

Ash wasn’t sure how to respond. Good thing he was at home with no one to witness the flush choking him.

Ash laughed so hard Chucky skedaddled off the couch mewling.

Ash scanned his apartment. Finally he had time to himself but he didn’t know what to do with it.

Except, Ash couldn’t concentrate on reading. He tucked the letters away and took himself to the bathroom. Hopped in the shower and slathered himself in body wash.

He leaned against the cold plastic wall, smiling stupidly as he replayed River’s messages in his head.

He fondled his cock. Knew what he wanted to do. Knew he shouldn’t want to do it.

Maybe if he . . . just once. He could get over it.

He gripped his cock. Stroked slowly from base to flushed tip.

His eyes slammed shut. Away went the moldy bathroom, away went all shoulder-tensing family matters, away went all logical thought.

Tightening his grip on his tender flesh, he gave in to sensation.

A grinning set of lips and a freckled nose flooded his mind. River’s arms, holding him tight . . . What would it feel like slickly rubbing against him?

He was pumping steadily. Every stroke of his fingers, every brush of his thumb over his cockhead brought curious visions of them together.

God, he wanted more pressure. Wanted a mouth.

River’s mouth . . .

Ash’s balls drew up, and he erupted into his cupped hand.

He washed away the intensity of the moment, but it didn’t wash away his pesky attraction to River.

River rang at the crack of dawn saying he couldn’t drive them to Silver Pines because he’d been called in to work.

Ash bussed to Silver Pines and used the time without River to shuffle through Lester’s belongings in the crypt. He wanted to read Lester’s letters, but the chest they were stored in was locked.

After reading another journal, Ash had the names of Lester’s favorite books. He stole back outside and into the heart of Silver Pines and searched for the titles.

Books found, he settled into an armchair in the bookstore and flicked through them.

He hoped reading might bring him closer to knowing Lester. He stared at pages of text and deflated. Too many long-winding passages and big words he didn’t know how to pronounce.

Even if they had met each other, Ash wouldn’t have been smart enough for Lester.

River came in a few hours later, and Ash forced himself not to watch the way he and Ben joked around together.

He should focus on learning about his Mallory side. Not River and Ben. Apparently, his hormones thought he was a pro multi-tasker.

“Ash?”

“Huh, sorry?” Ash had been staring so hard at River he’d not even heard him.

River’s hand closed around Ash’s and he tugged him gently toward the exit.

Ben called behind them, something about bringing him back food.

“Can’t he hang up an Out for lunch sign and come with us?” Ash asked, almost tripping over the threshold to the sunny porch.

River steadied him. “No, because we are not directly getting lunch.”

“We’re not?” Ash wriggled his fingers free when the path behind the church narrowed to a dirt path, canopied with apple trees. Their juices scented the air, and Ash breathed it in, hoping it would settle his nervous stomach.

“This way.”

He followed River up a white-picket zigzag path that cut up Shady Heights Hill. Apple-scented air disappeared, replaced by the infinitely sweeter scent of sweat and hay. And, Jesus, he was so close behind River, he was practically sniffing him.

He dropped back, taking in the growing view of the city. “Beautiful view.”

River looked over his shoulder, gaze sparkling.

Ash had a sudden urge to clarify. “Of the city.”

That earned him a surprised chuckle and, though the path was narrow, River slowed until they walked side by side. Their arms bumped.

“Lester made it a point to walk up here at least twice a week.”

“He was fitter than I imagined,” Ash said, a slight puff in his voice.

“Yeah. Sometimes I wondered if the cane was for show.”

“I thought it was to spank you?”

A laugh burst out of River, deep and heavy. The outline of his chest strained against the cotton of his T-shirt.

His fingers twitched at his sides and he stuffed them into his pockets. It made walking awkward, so he pulled them out and drove them through his messy hair.

He shouldn’t want to touch so badly. Shouldn’t be so curious.

“Did you say something?” River asked, deep eyes drinking Ash in.

Had he murmured that? “Um, curious.” River’s brow furrowed, and Ash hurriedly continued, “Curious why Lester didn’t have contact with my father. Why my father didn’t want anything to do with Silver Pines.”

“Phillip was one of Lester’s biggest mistakes.” River stared out toward the city. “He fell in love with another woman. Had an affair that carried on too long before he admitted it.”

“Too long?”

“Three years. He was afraid his wife would rip Phillip away from him. In the end, he did that himself.”

“That’s a long time to have an affair.”

“It doesn’t make it right, but Lester regretted it every day for the rest of his life.”

Ash swallowed. “What happened to the woman he fell in love with?”

“Lester was so devastated Phillip didn’t want to see him, he grew angry and depressed. It drove her away.”

Ash did a rough calculation. “Eight or nine years later, he meets you and sees his second chance?”

River paused under the dappled shade of a cypress tree, and Ash cursed himself. “Sorry, I—”

River faced him. “Don’t be sorry. Lester would want you to ask anything.”

“Even if the answer is personal to you too?”

“Lester messed up with Phillip, and he never saw his son again. I could never mend his heartache, Ash, but I can tell you everything you want to know. No matter how personal.”

“Would you tell me about you and him? How you met? Why were you so close?”

River stepped closer and Ash struggled to catch his breath. “Why I think of him as a granddad?”

Ash pushed back against the cool, rough cypress trunk. Swallowed.

River gripped an overhanging branch, angling his body toward Ash in a way that made him shiver.

“Our parents worried about my brother and me. We spent so much time together that we even developed our own language. We used it on everyone and mom wanted us to break the habit. She went to a speech therapist who recommended splitting us up for parts of the day. So she sent Landon to Ben’s place and put me in an afterschool program at Silver Pines.

“Mom was busy at work, I was always the last one to be picked up. For at least an hour each day, it was just Lester and I, apprehensively eyeing each other over stacks of books.”

River smiled softly, lost in the memory. “Mom talked to him about why I was there, and how I had to work on using more English. Lester impressed mom with all his books and she encouraged me to walk here after school every day.

“I was pissed about it for a little while and refused to say anything to anyone at all, and that’s when Lester started writing to me. Small notes via his mailbox. I was hooked. Soon enough, I’d come every weekday for a year. A year became two and three, and I realized I had a friend. When I was fifteen, I began working with him during summer vacation. We had adventures together, pinching apples on our lunchtime walks up this hill. Transforming the chapel into a haunted castle every Halloween. Taking weekends off to hunt for rare books . . .”

Inherent strength soaked River’s voice, even when it pitched into sadness. Maybe it came from the creases of humor at his eyes and around his mouth.

Maybe it came from spending so many years around Lester.

Ash wanted to hear more of it.

River released the branch and touched Ash’s bangs. Ash startled.

“Hold still,” River said softly. “You have a ladybug in your hair.”

Ash’s skin tickled where River’s fingers lightly bumped his forehead.

River pulled back, opening his palm for the ladybug to walk over. “Cute,” River said.

Ash looked up from the bug to find River’s gaze on him.

His body coiled with tension.

River stepped back, blowing the ladybug away. “Family should give you support and a sense of belonging. Mostly though, they should give you unconditional love. People need to know they are wanted. It’s why we use labels. I'm a mother of a five-year-old. My brother is coming to visit. My son's wedding is next week.” Those words come weighted, say I belong to someone. They should mean I am unconditionally loved.”

“But they don't always.”

“No. Too many people bear the heartache of the label without its intended meaning.” River guided Ash to the bench at the top of the hill where they had sat on their first visit. Chirping birds drowned out the drone of cars in the distance. The wind was stronger up here, blowing bits of leaves and dust around their legs.

Ash rested his elbows on his knees and avoided River’s gaze. “You think we need new labels? The abandoned brother? The disappointing sister? The forgotten son?”

River touched his shoulder, urging him to sit straight and look at him.

“I think maybe we need to redefine what a mom or a sister or a granddad is.” River smiled at him. “Lester and I weren’t related but we chose each other as family. I chose to give him the label granddad. I don’t think the blood running through one’s veins defines these things. Everyone deserves to belong. Deserves love. Should choose who you call family.”

Fresh breezes shifted softly around them. Revitalizing, but not nearly as much as River’s words.

“Were your discussions with Lester always this thoughtful?”

River grinned. “He once burped Vivaldi’s name.”

“Big shoes to fill.”

The laugh that burst out of River had Ash breathing in butterflies.

“You’re doing beautifully. Come. Let’s eat lunch.”

At closing time, outside the chapel, Ash answered a call from Shelly.

“Ash!” she said. “Hey, dear. How are you doing?”

Fuck, fuck. He feigned a cough. “Not great. Was throwing up. Still have fevers.”

“I know you said it was contagious, but I simply can’t leave you alone when you’re sick. I’m running past the store and picking you up some things.”

“No!” He coughed again as Ben and River emerged onto the porch. “I mean, thanks, but I’m . . . I’m staying with a friend. I’m sure he’ll look after me.”

“A friend? I’ve had a lot of experience looking after—”

“He’s a doctor!” For horses. But she didn’t need to know the details. “A very good one.”

River lifted a quizzical brow, and heat shot up Ash’s neck.

“Okay, but call me if you need anything.”

Ash let out a silent relieved breath, thanked Shelly, and hung up.

Ben looked between Ash and River. Sensing some unspoken conversation, he scurried toward the street, waving goodbye.

“Staying with a friend?” River asked. “A doctor friend?”

Kill him already. “Shelly wanted to check up on me. You were the first excuse that popped to mind. I don’t actually expect to stay with you.” He laughed tightly.

“Is this the woman from the library? The one groping you?”

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Were you and her …?”

Ash blinked, clueless how to respond to the crazy insinuation.

“I mean, it looked like—” River said.

“No. We haven’t nor ever will!”

River lifted his hands. “Sorry. I wasn’t sure.”

“What would make you think that?”

“She’s not unattractive. And you’re a single man who wants some fun.”

The hard emphasis on fun wasn’t lost on him. Ash folded his arms. “Just because I want some fun doesn’t mean I’d have fun with anyone attractive. Would you have fun with just any man?”

River’s jaw tightened. “You’re right. I wouldn’t.”

Ash didn’t like the finality of that, but he nodded. “Okay, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He hurried to the sidewalk toward the bus stop, ignoring River calling his name. He wasn’t sure why he was so pissed. River had made an assumption and apologized for it.

He wasn’t the only one to have made that mistake.

A car pulled up alongside him. Windows rolled down, and Ash hid a sigh of relief at River’s voice. “Get in. Let me take you home.”

River took Ash home, all right. To River’s home, a stone’s throw from Chance’s mansion.

“What are we doing here?” Ash asked tentatively.

River parked in front of the triple garage, and leaned back in his seat. He didn’t know what he was doing.

He laughed and scrubbed his face with his hands. “This is my home,” he said, unbuckling. “I wouldn’t want to make Shelly suspicious. I think you should stay with me. We have guest rooms, you can take your pick.”

“I . . . I don’t think—”

“It would make getting to Silver Pines easier in the morning.”

“Are you doing this because you feel bad?”

“You’re goddamn right I do. I feel bad every time I think of you in your apartment. I feel bad knowing you’re sleeping on a foldout couch. I feel bad you rarely enjoy a night off.” River leaned over and unclicked Ash’s belt, coming closer as he controlled the belt’s slide across Ash’s chest. “Come in. Stay the night. Hell, stay all of them. Eat me out of house and home, I dare you.”

Ash chuckled, eyes lighting up as if River had offered him Christmas. Doubt twitched at the corners of his mouth.

If Ash accepted, River would suffer the hardest week of his life.

Let him suffer.