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I followed his lead, but slowly. My fingers were numb. I missed the buttons. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. And then, the anger flooded me. A deep, animalistic torrent of frustration lifted me off my feet and carried me with it. I wanted to cry and fight and smash things.
Eileen poked her head through the back door and gave a tired smile. “My boys,” she said, her long hair swaying as she walked toward Asher and threw her arms around him. “I’m so happy to finally see you.” She gestured for me to come and join the hug. I did, but I wanted to weep. I hugged her and felt the heat of Asher’s body on mine when I hugged him too. “George couldn’t get that pipe fixed without ruining half the bathroom. I was desperate to see you. Are you alright? Did you have everything you needed?”
“We’re fine,” I said, although I didn’t know how. I shuddered with the spilling need to travel back in time, to start it sooner, to have him and kiss him and fuck him and hold him. But he was tense now and it filled me with fear.
Dad walked through the kitchen with an innocent smile on his face. “There wasn’t another way, Eileen,” he said.
“You keep saying, but I’ve told Marrie, and she swears she had the same thing happen to her. They ended up taking off four tiles and the whole thing was done in an afternoon.” Eileen released us. I glanced at Asher, but he wasn’t looking at me.
“You’re here now,” I said. It took all the strength I had to say the rest. “That’s all that matters.”
Eileen was visibly tired as she exhaled. Dad approached and hugged Asher and me in turn. He winked at me as if to say everything was fine. But I felt like nothing could ever be fine again.
Panic rose in me like a flare torch. What had we done? We could have wrecked four lives in one heated moment? And for what? For being horny and drunk enough to cave in.
“Honestly, I’m a little drunk,” Asher said.
Eileen frowned at him.
He just shrugged. “Sorry. I guess I lost control.”
“Off to bed with you,” Eileen said. “We’ll catch up tomorrow when you feel better.” She pecked his cheek and shook her head at me like it was my fault. It was. I shouldn’t have let him drink. And I shouldn’t have stuck my tongue down his throat, either.
My heart pumped blood, but that was the extent of its duties. I felt nothing. The bitter taste on my tongue was a bit of disappointment and a big serving of guilt.
“I think I’ll head to bed, too,” I said. “We got carried away with your wine.”
Dad laughed and tapped my shoulder encouragingly, but all I could think about was the disgust on his face if he had seen me a minute earlier.
Eileen sighed, but that didn’t stop her from picking up the bottle and pouring some wine into a used glass, then bringing it to her lips. She plopped down into the chair just as I slipped into the house.
Asher wasn’t in my field of vision. By the time I reached the stairs, I heard his door shut and the key turn in the lock.
Good. One less temptation.
So I shut myself in my room and buried my face in a pillow. I wanted to scream, but I only growled.
NINE
Asher
Tears streaked down my cheeks the moment I shut the door to my room. They weren’t the sorrowful tears of someone who was hurt. They were angry, furious tears of someone who had glimpsed everything he could possibly wish for, then had it taken away that same moment.
Had he really said it? Had he told me he had wanted me for the longest time? My throat closed as a sob of sheer anger and hatred at this clusterfuck of an evening bubbled within me. It welled and made my chest so tight it felt close to a panic attack. I could barely inhale a breath of fresh air as I marched toward my bed and collapsed onto the mattress.
Guilt was quick to follow. The back of my throat ached when I swallowed. My stomach lurched at my first attempt to replay the events of the evening. I didn’t realize I was doing it until it hurt, but I scratched the back of my neck as my skin grew too tight for me.
It wasn’t fair.
I wanted to be angry. I wanted to smash everything that was on my shelves and kick the side of my desk. I wanted to punch the walls and let out this suffocating cry, but I couldn’t. I had no right to it. Mom wasn’t guilty. George wasn’t at fault for arriving home at the worst possible time. They’d done nothing wrong. So why did I hate them?
I pressed my face into the pillow as if I could smother myself if only I stayed very calm. Obviously, my body knew better. My clouded judgment was precisely that—clouded. The mist around my consciousness was thick, impassable, haunting. At the center of it all, like a shining beacon, was Jordan. Fiery and passionate in ways I had never witnessed. The person I had glimpsed tonight was so far beyond my imagination that it was hard to blend him with the smug, self-centered prick I had grown up with.
And just as I felt another way of immeasurable appreciation for his existence and the confusing, incredible, unexpected words he had told me, my heart sped up. Guilt rose within me and spread like some dirty, oily substance on clear water.
I gasped for air, turning to my side and facing the wall.
Had he really wanted me for the longest time? What the fuck did that even mean?
