He smiles back at me before opening the door and flipping on the light switch. A dull yellow bulb hangs midway down the steps and casts a shadow over Asher’s face, making his straight nose look sharper than it usually does and his cheekbones starker. Asher would’ve made millions if he ever decided to become a model, but he prefers to work with the band. I guess the three of us would all rather be together than pursuing different paths.
I can’t see much of the room yet due to the wall next to the staircase blocking my view, but my nostrils are assaulted by the smell of bleach and my eyes water as they start stinging. We step off the last step and round the corner. I frown. This place is immaculate. While the upstairs is covered in over a decade’s worth of dust and grime, the basement looks a hundred times better.
A thousand times better.
But that’s not what stops all thoughts of pungent smells—it’s the large wrought iron bed in the middle of the room with its red and brown comforter pulled military style over the mattress with not a crease in sight. In fact, the whole room looks like it had a thorough spring clean.
Is someone living here?
I’m about to ask Asher the question when I see his face. He looks like he’s in a trance, and I think he might be lost in a memory. One that can’t be good, considering where we are.
“Hey…” I wrap my arms around him. “It’s okay, I’m here with you.”
His arms tighten around me, and he pulls me hard against him. I feel his heart thundering against my chest and press a kiss on his shoulder. I want to ask him what he’s thinking, but I don’t know how.
Or if I should.
“I spent the majority of my life down here doing things that should’ve made me feel ashamed, but didn’t.” Asher’s words stop all thoughts in my head, and I still.
“When we were kids, I’d hear Dale crying in his bed. Some nights, I’d even hear his teeth chattering when Uncle Ted came for us in the middle of the night for his ‘special clients.’ He never prepared us for those. The ones looking for way more than the average Joe. I think he wanted the adrenaline spiking through our veins. But those were the ones I enjoyed the most because even though Dale and I both got dragged out of bed at ungodly hours, I knew the night would be special. They wanted my body and Dale’s whimpers.”
My heart stops. All kinds of warning bells are going off in my head, and I’m trying not to judge Asher ’cause God knows I’m my own shade of fucked-up, but I can’t help it. This isn’t right.
This is not right.
I kiss him again and take a step back, not wanting him to feel the rejection because what happened to him wasn’t his fault. And I, more than anyone, knows how it is to be made to think something is right and good when it’s all kinds of awful and wrong and toxic.
Asher runs his thumb under my chin. “Am I freaking you out?”
“No,” I lie.
“Turn around.” His voice is soft. “I want to show you something.”
I hesitate. God, I hate myself for hesitating, but I do.
Asher must feel my reluctance because he smiles down at me. Those piercing gray eyes are full of understanding with a hint of amusement. “There’s so much I want to tell you, but I need to hold you to do it, and it’s distracting having your tits pressed against my chest.”
I feel my shoulders relax a minuscule amount as a laugh escapes me. “You’re so damn romantic, Asher Brown.”
He waggles his eyebrows. “I try.”
I relax a little more and turn around. Asher steps up behind me and pulls me back against him. He does what he always does every time we stand like this. He pulls me flush against his body with my ass pressed against his thighs. I can feel his hard cock against my lower back. I guess he wasn’t exaggerating about the distraction. His one arm goes around my chest like it always does, and that same safe feeling of familiarity kicks in. Nothing I hear tonight will change the way I feel about Asher. He’s always there for me—no judgment. He’s my constant. He and Dale are the two things I can count on, even if I don’t love him the way I wish I did.
I place a kiss on his tattooed arm.
“What do you think?” He asks.
“About?”
“The room?”
Damn, now that’s a loaded question. Based on his earlier revelation and how much more sensitive this subject has just gotten, I know I have to tread lightly.
“Does someone stay here? It’s pretty clean for an abandoned house.”
“Yeah, I do.”
I turn in surprise, but Asher grips my shoulders firmly and turns me back. His arms anchor me to him. The hairs at the back of my neck rise, and it feels like the temperature just dropped a dozen degrees.
“What do you mean you live here?” My voice is tight.
“I mean, I sleep here. Well, I’ve been sleeping here for a couple of nights now.”
God, why would he want to do that? How can he do that? Is this his idea of gaining closure, because I don’t think it’s healthy?
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to see if it would be comfortable for you.”
Ice rushes through my veins like a melted avalanche. “What do you mean, for me?”
I try to turn again, but Asher’s arm moves to my throat, and he pulls me to him. His other hand slides behind my head, and he holds me firmly in place. I struggle against his hold as panic sweeps through me. I can’t breathe. He’s strangling me. My fingernails rake down his arm and find purchase in his skin, but he still doesn’t let go.
“Don’t fight me, Raine. You’ll be better off if
