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I clench my eyes closed, trying to stop some of the overwhelming input flooding my brain. My knees give, and I drop into a crouch, wrapping my arms around my head to block out the onslaught of torment.
Asher. Not Asher. Safe. No.
Pain. Asher hurts.
Asher comforts.
Asher isn’t safe anymore.
“Eli?” That name in that voice is a physical blow to my body that I recoil from. Only two people in the world have ever called me that, and one of them is dead. The fragile scars the other one left on my heart rip open to bleed at my feet because he won’t stay, and I never got over him.
Strong arms surround me, so different but so familiar. A chest that’s bigger, harder than I knew but still holding a flame that could never be a stranger. Too weak to fight the desire, I cling to him. My arms circle around his neck, my face buried in the warm softness of his throat, and my legs wrapping around his body. He holds me just as tightly, and for a second, I’m a child again. Desperate for my parents to show some kind of interest in my life.
“Hey, sweet boy. You’re okay.” His calm voice in my ear makes me sob. It’s everything I’ve needed in the years since he left. I hate him for it. I hate myself for how quickly I let him take control of me. He was my home. My safety. My comfort. But he took it away and left me to fend for myself at seventeen, heartbroken, mourning, and lost. I loved him more than I loved myself or my brother, and he walked away with nothing but a fucking text.
With me wrapped around his body, clinging to him like the headcase I am, he lifts me and walks us somewhere. I don’t look to see where we’re going. It doesn’t matter. For just a second, I allow myself to be consumed by his warmth, to let myself accept his comfort. He’s so familiar. He’s home. Most of my life, Asher protected me, and falling back into it is second nature.
How did we get here? How is this my life? I loved him so completely, and now I can’t even see him without falling apart. When he left, I was able to shove him behind a door in my head. I buried my feelings and memories, but they’ve been ripped out so violently I can’t put them back because my emotions are like water escaping my fingers as I desperately try to scoop them back in the box.
But it’s useless.
I’m sure the gossip rags will be all over this, spreading more rumors and blasting my mental instability on the front page. Probably print that I’m fucking Asher because how else would we be this physically comfortable with each other. They’ll dig up our family’s connection, rehash my brother’s death, and splash our pictures everywhere. Once again, I won’t be able to hide from him.
Fuck!
Immediately, I’m struggling against him. Shoving against his chest and trying to get my feet to the ground.
“Put me down!” I yell louder than I should.
“Whoa, whoa. Eli, you’re okay. Relax.” He scoops me back up with an arm under my ass and one huge hand splayed on my back to keep me against him.
“He said let him go!” Jordan demands, probably standing in front of Asher to make him stop walking.
“He’s in the middle of a panic attack—”
“You think I don’t know that? Who do you think usually helps him? He doesn’t like to be touched when he’s freaked out. Put. Him. Down.” That tone in her voice is dangerous. She’s about to fuck shit up; even in my half-out-of-it head, I know that.
I push against him again, but he tightens his arms around me. It rips my heart open how easily he fell back into comforting me. No hesitation, just accepted me wrapping myself around him like no time has passed. How desperately I wish that were true.
“You’re safe, Eli. Deep breaths, it’s okay.” His tone is soft and soothing as his lips brush over my ear when he speaks. A shudder zings up my spine, and it takes all the strength I have left to not melt into him. Angry tears well up in my eyes, and my throat clogs at how hard I have to fight this.
“Put me down,” I say more calmly this time. “There are reporters.”
Forcing myself to pull my face from his skin, I put as much space between us as I can while he’s holding me against him.
“Now. Vaughn,” Jordan demands.
Asher looks at me, but I can’t lift my head to meet his eyes, choosing to stare at the button of his Thunderbolts polo. His lips brush my forehead, and a tear streaks down my face. The emotions clogging my throat burn with the need to break down again.
My feet touch the ground, and I scramble back away from him, putting Jordan between us. With my head ducked, I gaze around us to see we’re under a pop-up tent with some kind of temporary wall shielding us from the public. I quickly wipe at my face.
“You lied to me.” Jordan steps right up into Asher’s space and shoves him back a step. A flash of surprise crosses his face, clearly caught off guard since she was able to move him. She’s tiny compared to him, but she’s furious. “You didn’t tell me he was terrified of you. If I had even an inkling, I never would have brought him! Stay away from him! It’s his fucking birthday!”
My arms wrap around my middle again, needing to be held, and chew on my inner lip.
Asher crosses his thick arms and raises an eyebrow at her. “You think I don’t know it’s his birthday? I’ve known him since he was seven.”
“Yet the only thing he’s ever mentioned about you is that you were his brother’s friend,” she throws back. “I’ve been friends with him for years, and I’ve never seen you around, heard about you calling or texting or hanging out. Nothing. You don’t know shit about him anymore.”
