Chapter Text
FOURTEEN
Besides sex—which was so far out of the question that it might as well not exist—Eiji didn’t know what couples were supposed to do on their honeymoon. He lay on the plush wool sofa, staring up at the exposed beams across the ceiling of their cabin, wondering if it was too early to go to bed.
And even then…where would he sleep?
Eiji had tried to talk Ash out of the honeymoon trip. It was too expensive, too inconvenient, he’d argued, thinking too intimate, too embarrassing, but lacking the nerve to say so out loud. Ash’s rebuttal had been about optics and expectations and wouldn’t he look like a shitty husband if he was too cheap to take his new partner on a honeymoon?
Ash won, of course, with the dubious compromise of a shortened trip. A week was reduced to just two full days bookended by travel. Eiji realized immediately that it still included three nights, but accepted it just the same.
And so, the morning after their wedding, they’d flown out to a hot springs resort in Colorado. Eiji, not even a little bit educated in American geography, had been surprised to learn that there were hot springs in the United States. He’d been even more surprised by the craggy peaks of the Rocky Mountains, which looked nothing like the mountains in Japan. Leaning across Ash’s lap, he’d gawked out the window as their flight approached Denver.
After they landed, they’d had a three-hour drive from the city to their resort. Eiji was relieved to note that Ash drove better on the mountain highways than he did in New York. The number on the speedometer was still higher than Eiji preferred, but at least they avoided the starts and stops and cussing that accompanied city traffic. He was astonished by how easily Ash navigated the road’s steep inclines and hairpin curves in their rental car. “We crossed the Rockies when we drove to California chasing banana fish,” Ash explained, one hand on the wheel and the other casually resting on the gear shift like they weren’t just mere feet from plummeting to their deaths off the side of the road. “Max let me drive because the switchbacks made him car sick. Didn’t Shunichi tell you about it? It was the best part of the trip.”
Eiji wondered if it might’ve felt safer in the summer, without the snow to worry about. By the time they reached the resort, snow had begun to fall thick and fast, blotting out the last of the afternoon sunlight.
As they walked up from the parking lot, Eiji couldn’t see the hot spring, but the air was heavy with the familiar, mineral smell that he remembered from onsen visits in his childhood. The lodge, however, was nothing like a traditional Japanese onsen. The place was huge, with vaulted ceilings and exposed beams, a rustic veneer that did nothing to disguise the opulence and luxury of the place. Massive floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the winter scenery, and fire crackled in a hearth that seemed big enough to drive through. It had been overwhelming, standing in such a room, and by the time they had checked in and hiked the quarter-mile to the secluded cabin Ash had reserved for them, Eiji was hungry and exhausted.
Now, Eiji watched it pile heavy on the branches of the evergreen trees that surrounded their pool. The triangular back wall of their A-frame cabin was made of glass, windows cut into modern-art angles with a custom-shaped door hidden among them, the hinges and latch invisible unless you knew where to look.
When they'd first opened the cabin door, Eiji was shocked by how romantic it was. The tiny A-frame was lit by firelight—a crackling flame danced in a pot-bellied stove and a small table, lit by slow-burning tapers, had been set with their piping hot dinner. The king sized-bed was a shadow in the far end of the room, backlit by the windows overlooking the steaming pool outside.
Ash whistled low under his breath. “Looks like they’re serious about the honeymoon treatment,” he said, slipping out of his coat and hanging it on the coat tree by the door. The porter had magically vanished, leaving them alone in the room.
Eiji was reluctant to interact with the bed, even so far as putting the suitcases on it, so he ended up leaving them by the door as he shrugged off his own coat and shoes. Two pairs of plushy slippers waited near the stove, and Eiji gratefully slid his cold feet into the toasty wool. “This place is beautiful,” he said, standing on tiptoe to get a better view of their private pool. He wanted to go to the window, or even figure out how to open it to go out, but that would mean skirting past the bed, and no—he wasn’t ready for that yet.
He’d thought they’d be eager to have a soak when they first arrived, but Eiji was instantly shy about mentioning it. Even with swimsuits—their private pool was clothing-optional, but there was just no way—it was impossible to get up the nerve to suggest that Ash reveal that much of his body.
Instead, they ate.
Ash had ordered baked salmon with couscous and vegetables, prepared with far more finesse than anything Eiji was accustomed to. They drank wine with their meal, which only added to the heady, sleepy feeling that had enveloped Eiji’s whole body as soon as he’d warmed up after their hike up.
By the time they were done, Eiji was ready to crash. Due to a change in time zones, however, it was still early. He and Ash had somehow avoided all discussion of sleeping arrangements, so Eiji had no choice but to find some way to stay awake, which meant avoiding the hot spring completely. He tried reading manga on his phone, but after only half an hour or so, he was bored.
“What are you working on?” Eiji asked Ash, who’d set up his laptop at the desk almost as soon as dinner was done.
“I’m planning my class schedule,” Ash said. “The new term starts in January, and my scheduling window opens at seven o’clock Tuesday morning—which is five o’clock here. I won’t be in any shape to make decisions, so I’m figuring it out now.”
Eiji hauled himself off the couch and crossed the room to get a look at the computer screen. “What are you taking next semester?”
Ash shifted so Eiji could see over his shoulder. The class descriptions that Ash scrolled through looked complex, full of phrases like economic forecasts and supply chain output that Eiji didn’t understand at all. It looked like Ash had selected two economics classes and a handful of others—business writing, literary criticism, and another five credit hours of Mandarin. “Is this a lot for one semester?” Eiji asked. It looked like much more than he would’ve liked to take on all at once.
“Maybe,” Ash answered, undisturbed. “I wanted to graduate this spring, but it looks like I won’t have quite enough credits by then. I’m shooting for September, instead.”
“Why hurry through? What do you want to do after?”
“Don’t really know,” he said. “I’ve been focused on getting the degree—not so much on what to do with it.”
Eiji was surprised that Ash didn’t have it all figured out. Ibe had called him a brilliant strategist, and so Eiji had assumed he’d planned his whole career already, leaving nothing to chance. Still, the fact that Ash’s future was practically as formless and undecided as his was kind of comforting. “I also have no idea what to do next,” he admitted.
“I thought you were going to take pictures?”
Eiji flopped back onto the couch and gazed into the rafters. “I am. I mean, I want to. But how do I even do that?” He closed his eyes and draped one arm over his face. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about anything.
He half expected Ash to offer solutions—to suggest he use some of Ibe’s connections, or see if Max happened to know a guy with a gallery—but instead, he heaved a huge sigh. “Do you think—” he started, then closed his mouth and reconsidered. Eiji was about to prompt him to continue when he spoke again. “Are you really through with pole vaulting?” he asked.
The question startled Eiji. “I told you already,” he said, the words sounding stiff. “There’s too much baggage there.” He didn’t want to talk about Owen or his father again. He didn’t want look too close, only to discover that he’d left that particular door ajar, when he’d meant to slam it shut.
“Okay,” Ash conceded, though it sounded skeptical. “It’s just.. In the letters you wrote, you were really passionate about it. I feel like you’re walking away from a huge part of your life.”
Eiji felt queasy just thinking about it. “I was done with that before I even met you,” he said quietly. “I just expected to have more sorted out by now.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Ash said, and Eiji felt a rush of relief that he hadn’t pushed. “Starting over takes way more energy than anyone expects. I guess you just have to believe that it’ll all fall into place, eventually.”
Eiji wasn’t sure he was capable of believing that. His whole life had felt more like a series of tests, and right now he felt like he had to do everything just right and at just the right moment, or else their whole marriage scheme—the only plan Eiji currently had for his life—would crumble. “Everything feels really uncertain,” he explained slowly. “I don’t know if I’ll even be here after next month, let alone a year from now.” His voice was muffled in the sleeve of his sweater, but he didn’t bother moving. It was easier, not looking at Ash while they talked. “Until I know I can stay, I don’t want to put down roots.”
Even as he said it, he felt the lie of it, felt the tendril of emotion that already tethered him to Ash.
“I get it,” Ash said, and Eiji heard the swish of his slippered feet as he swiveled the desk chair to face him. “My whole life, I couldn’t afford to look too far ahead. I had to worry about getting through the next week, the next day, sometimes the next hour. Then, once I was free of Golzine, I had to handle the cops and the justice system—until I was sure I wasn’t headed to prison, there wasn’t much point in planning the rest of my life.”
And now? Eiji wanted to ask him. What was preventing him from making plans now? An instant later, he realized that he was probably the reason Ash couldn’t make plans. Ash was stuck with him for five years—half a decade before his real life could start.
A knock at the door prevented him from saying anything else.
Eiji sat up, curious, as Ash answered it. A porter with pink cheeks and snow in his hair stood holding a champagne bucket and a domed tray. “Your nightcap, sir,” he said, and Ash, apparently unsurprised, took them from him.
A moment later, the man was gone and Ash revealed the basket of strawberries that had been under the dome. Eiji picked up the bottle in the bucket. He knew very little about champagne, but “This looks expensive.”
Ash shrugged. “Part of the honeymoon package,” he said. He took a bite out of a strawberry, his tongue darting out to catch the juice that dribbled across his lip.
Eiji inhaled sharply and glanced away.
“How much did you spend on this place?” he asked. It made him uncomfortable, to think of Ash squandering his hard-won money on him. But that cabin, tucked up in the mountain forest and completely private, was probably two or three times the cost of a room in that luxurious lodge. He didn’t want to think of how much more the honeymoon package added. “It’s not even a real honeymoon,” he protested softly, picking up a strawberry.
“We gotta make it look authentic,” Ash said. It sounded reflexive, which made sense—he’d been making the same argument since they’d started their ruse. To Eiji, it felt like an excuse, a barrier that Ash was throwing up between them for reasons he didn’t understand.
“I doubt they’ll check the receipts,” Eiji snipped, and Ash looked startled.
Remorse welled up instantly. “I’m sorry,” he said, before Ash could comment. “I just can’t imagine that INS will care about champagne and strawberries.”
Ash didn’t answer. He peeled the gold foil from the bottle and expertly worked the cork out without even a hint of the fuss Eiji was accustomed to for celebratory toasts. He poured a generous amount into one of the pair of crystal flutes that had been delivered with the champagne, then nestled the bottle back into its ice bath.
He took a sip, closing his eyes in what seemed to be bliss. “Even if INS won’t be tracking our champagne and strawberries,” he said, not opening his eyes, “I happen to like them.” His tone was tired, like he was sick of explaining things to Eiji.
Of course he was. Eiji was sick of himself, too. He bit into the strawberry. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes at its intense sweetness.
“Where am I supposed to sleep?” he asked miserably. There was no point in being embarrassed now.
Ash glanced at the bed, acknowledging it for the first time. “It’s big enough for two,” he said, his voice just a bit too even, and Eiji wondered if he’d been worried about it, too.
Eiji couldn’t decide if he was relieved that he wouldn’t have to take the couch or miserable because he knew he’d never be able to fall sleep that close to Ash. “Which side do you want?” he asked, pretending that this was perfectly normal.
Ash shrugged. “You can have the window, if you want,” he offered. “You ready to sleep now?”
Almost. There was an embarrassing bit of formality as they took turns in the bathroom. Eiji had new pajamas—a honeymoon present from Hana that seemed really sweet at the time, but now felt silly because why would Ash even notice? And why did Eiji even want that?
But Ash smirked as Eiji came out of the bathroom. “Nice to see you can carry off plaids, as well as stripes,” he noted. He had changed, too, into his customary sweatpants and white t-shirt. “I figure we can let the fire die,” he said, nodding toward the embers still glowing through the stove door.
“The duvet looks very warm,” Eiji observed. It was down-filled and appeared to add inches to the height of the bed.
Ash switched out the light. “If we get cold, we can always snuggle,” he joked.
Eiji didn’t respond—there wasn’t a thing in the world he was capable of saying to that.
*
Ash slid beneath the deliciously warm water of their private pool and exhaled a stream of bubbles that tickled his face. He hadn’t been sure about the hot springs, when they arrived. They smelled strange—not quite unpleasant, but pungent enough to make him wonder if it’d been a mistake. Then he’d noticed the look on Eiji’s face. Eiji had taken a deep breath as soon as they were out of the car, his face alight with a wistful, homesick, beautiful expression that made Ash feel things. It made him want to give him stuff. He didn’t even know what—he just felt the urge to ply him with gifts and experiences. Not to erase the bittersweetness from Eiji’s face, but to maybe, eventually, be the cause of a similar look.
And that was way too much.
When Ash woke up that morning, he’d blinked in the unfamiliar darkness, his muddled head frantically connecting the dots that led to his waking in a strange bed. It was Eiji’s soft breathing that finally reminded him.
Eiji had been far away, balanced on the very edge of his side of the king-sized bed, still fast asleep. A current of protective affection surged through Ash at the sight of him sleeping with his mouth half open, his hair mussed against the pristine pillowcase. Ash had never woken up with someone in a positive way—even the few times he had shared a bed with Shorter, he’d been too irritated with his friend’s elbows and knees to appreciate the quiet comfort of having a friend instead of… someone else.
Was it accurate to call Eiji his friend?
They were married now, so he guessed technically, they were husbands, but Ash had never been one for saddling himself with legal definitions. What Eiji meant to him had nothing to do with the paperwork they’d left for Shunichi to file at the courthouse.
What Eiji meant to him. It felt like deeply loaded phrasing, even in his own head, and Ash’s sleepy mind had shied quickly away. He’d slid out of bed to start a pot of coffee. He wasn’t usually the first one awake, but he liked the mood of the early morning—it seemed like a great opportunity to read, uninterrupted.
He and Eiji had finished off the strawberries and champagne for breakfast—no more grumbling about overspending that time, thank goodness—and then Ash had hung around the cabin, reading while Eiji explored the resort's more athletic amenities, like the indoor tennis courts, the lap pools, and the weight room. Ugh. No thank you.
He hadn’t realized that Eiji would be out all day, taking full advantage of being a jock at a spa for athletes. Not that Ash minded, really—it was kind of unprecedented to have that much secluded leisure. Max used to call him a lazy house cat, and Ash realized quickly that the label fit.
Now, fully awake and with hours of daylight banked behind him, Ash finally allowed himself to think about the night they’d passed together. For a long, long time, he hadn’t been able to relax enough to sleep—it was like he was aware of Eiji’s presence on a molecular level, his mind calculating the distance between them down to a fraction of an inch. He couldn’t tell what kind of anxiety plagued him. His adrenaline response was thick with something that felt almost like panic, but then his body ached to reach for Eiji, to pull him close and—
And do what, exactly?
Ash had never really thought about sex, recreationally. He honestly never could fathom getting pleasure from imagining hands or mouths or bodies pressed to his—the idea brought up nauseating memories, rather than erotic fantasies. But somehow, despite that, he’d wanted to touch Eiji.
Ash didn’t trust this feeling, but, somehow, he couldn’t get rid of it. In fact, he was having trouble quelling the impulse to do something about it, and that scared the shit out of him.
At their wedding, he and Eiji had what could only be described as an intense moment in the kitchen before Sunny and Shunichi interrupted them. Ash hadn’t missed the way Eiji’s gaze had dropped to Ash’s mouth, the way his fingers curled, just a fraction, into Ash’s hair at the same moment.
Eiji had definitely wanted to kiss him.
As soon as Ash recognized that, his whole body had burst into flame, his mind very eagerly supplying the tactile details of how it had felt to kiss him before. Ash had stared down at Eiji, wanting to touch him, to crawl into his skin until there was no way to tell which parts were Eiji’s and which parts were his. But then Sunny was there, and Shunichi was glaring, which made Ash want to hit something.
Now, with a second kiss rattling around in his brain—like their first kiss, the one at the wedding had gotten completely out of hand—and time to sort out his feelings, Ash was finally able to admit that he wasn’t as immune to sexual attraction as he’d believed. The idea was both thrilling and gut-wrenching, even more complicated because it was just added to the tangled-up things he’d already started feeling about Eiji.
Ash grabbed his phone from the nest he’d made for it in his robe. He’d thought to text Shorter, but somehow, it was almost five o’clock. He’d done basically nothing with his day.
Now Ash pulled himself out of the pool through the heavy, misty air. Immediately, the cold snatched at his flushed skin, and even the radiant heat of the flagstone pavers felt insufficient after the hot water. He slid into the waiting robe and slippers, rubbing a towel through his hair and wondering if he’d need another shower to rinse out the mineral smell.
Right about then, Eiji would be starting the massage he'd scheduled at the spa. He hadn’t invited Ash along, which was more than fine. Hands on bare skin and all that. They’d agreed to meet in the lounge afterward. They had evening plans to try the restaurant’s holiday dinner, but first, Ash wanted to try out the pool tables. Eiji had agreed to let himself be taught how to play.
Ash got dressed and used the blow dryer on his hair, and by the time he was finished, it was just about time to head out. The boardwalk path down the mountainside was dry despite the blowing snow, and Ash wondered if that was due to salt or geothermal heat. The whole place was fascinating, honestly. He wondered if there were any books about the local geology on offer at the gift shop.
The lounge was busier than Ash expected so early in the evening. He looked around, uneasy, but unable to pinpoint exactly why. No one seemed out of place, and no one paid him any mind at all, which was exactly what he wanted. He’d gotten used to school and the ins and outs of his normal-guy life in Manhattan, but the instincts he’d honed on the streets hadn’t really faded. He liked to have a read on the people surrounding him, to avoid surprises.
Ash claimed an empty pool table. A waiter brought him a beer and Ash glanced at his watch. He’d expected Eiji to be there already. Maybe his massage had gone long?
Before his mind wandered down dark corridors considering what exactly might happen that would extend a massage, Ash grabbed a cue stick and took a swig of his beer. The balls were neatly racked on the table, just waiting for a break, and a bit of precision might be just what he needed to get out of his own head. He lined up the cue ball and thwack.
Ash hadn’t always been good at pool—Shorter used to beat him easily, putting dents into Ash’s cash as well as his pride. It wasn’t until Ash realized it was a game of mathematics, about controlling angles and acceleration and force, that he managed to hold his own.
He was halfway through his solo game when he noticed a woman watching him. She was almost as tall as he was, with a wavy cascade of probably-not-natural red hair. Despite the season, she wore a sleeveless, low-cut top in holiday crimson over skinny jeans and knee-high boots. When she caught his eye, she lifted her drink in a silent toast.
Ash ignored her, turning back to his game. Where the hell was Eiji? There was a certain type of person who assumed that, if a person was alone, then they were available. The way she kept watching, he was pretty sure she was that type. He cringed as she crossed the lounge toward him.
“Alone on Christmas?” she asked in what he thought might be a Texas drawl.
“Not interested,” he ground through his teeth, not looking at her.
“Now, that’s not nice,” she protested. She leaned one hip against the edge of the pool table. “I’ve been watching you play. You obviously know how to fill a pocket.”
He took another shot, but it banked off the wall right next to his target. Fuck. He didn’t need her getting under his skin, but that kind of double-entendre made his skin crawl.
“I’m Sarah,” she persisted.
“And I’m married.” Eiji’s ring glinted under the lamp, perfectly obvious to anyone who cared to look.
She only smiled, leaning forward to pinch a pretend bit of lint from the middle of the table. He got an eyeful of pushed-up cleavage, the lacy edges of a black bra peeking out around the plunging neckline of her silk blouse. “And where on earth has that wife of yours gotten to?” she asked, glancing around with feigned innocence. “If you were mine, I’d keep close. I know better than to let a man like you out of my sight.”
Ash sighed. Why were the women who approached him never the type to respect a simple no? “Well,” he said shortly, stepping around her to the other side of the table. “I’m not, so you can go find someone else to keep an eye on.”
She flipped her hair over her shoulder, reminding Ash of nothing so much as a horse agitated by a bee. “Never met anyone so set on playing hard-to-get,” she said, smirking. “But I always get what I want, wife or no wife.” She sidled up next to him, putting her hand on his arm just before he took the next shot. “And you are exactly the kind of man I want.”
Ash’s breath accelerated, his vision starting to narrow. This wasn’t the venue for the real Ash Lynx to come out, he reminded himself over the dozen rude comebacks that were queuing up in his head. He shrugged her hand away, ending up missing his shot entirely.
The woman only laughed. “See?” she cried, delighted. “You’re not immune.”
“You have no idea how wrong you are. I said I wasn’t interested.” He tried his best to come off as casual and controlled, when in reality, his body longed to lash out. Maybe not to hurt her, but definitely to say or do something that would scare her off for good. Girls used to sniff around him all the time, trying to hook up because he was good looking or powerful. Some were in trouble, looking for protection, but most of them had been looking to get with someone who could boost their own reputation in the neighborhood. Ash always refused to be that guy.
He’d thought that would’ve ended when he walked away from that life, but here he was at one of the most expensive resorts in the country, and even here, there were women who seemed completely unwilling to get the message. He knew some surefire ways to get her off his back, but this wasn’t exactly the Lower East Side, and the last thing he and Eiji needed was the scrutiny that would come from getting kicked out.
She laughed. Ash tried not to flinch. His eyes frantically scanned the room. Where the fuck was Eiji?
Ash focused, instead, on the white ball at the end of his stick. He could see the smudge of blue chalk where he’d hit it before, see the scuffs and scratches from hundreds of games before his. Beyond it, the solid red seven-ball sat about a foot and a half from the pocket. Ash would have to glance the cue ball off it at what, a twenty-degree angle?—no, closer to eighteen—to get it to move the direction he needed. The only uncertainty was force. How much would be too much for a shot like that?
He leaned down and readied his stick.
Suddenly, her hand was on him, sliding around one hip, her fingers already brushing against the zippered closure of his fly. She pressed hard against his back and he felt the squish of her breasts, hot and soft and nauseating, through his sweater.
Memories of other hands, other bodies surged though him, all bad lighting and slapping skin like a porno on crack and he couldn’t just turn the channel or even close his eyes.
There was no time to think, no time to plan. His body simply reacted, clamping one hand around her forearm and spinning, twisting her arm and pinning it against her back. The cue stick clattered and her drink tumbled onto the floor, shattering into a glassy red puddle. “I’m on my fucking honeymoon,” Ash snarled into her ear.
She squealed. It was shrill and terrified and ensured that every eye was trained on them in less than a second.
*
Eiji’s hair was still wet, but there hadn’t been time to dry it. He was late enough as it was. It was starting to collect ice crystals as he hurried from the clubhouse to the lodge. He was supposed to have met Ash fifteen minutes before, opting for a shower and change of clothes rather than meeting him in a sweaty disarray.
The lodge windows glowed ahead of him, and even after dark, Eiji could hear the splash and murmur of guests enjoying the big pool. He’d spent most of the day in the gym, partly to make up for the last couple of days’ lack of workouts and partly because it had been hard to look at Ash that morning. Eiji’s dreams--inspired by Ash’s close proximity, no doubt--had been mortifyingly sexy. Plagued by their echoes, Eiji had hurried away as soon as breakfast was eaten.
The lodge was decorated for Christmas, its windows and doorways lined with thick garlands of evergreen dotted with tiny white lights. Eiji hadn’t really noticed when they’d arrived the night before, too exhausted for details and already dazzled by the sheer luxury of the place. Eiji hurried through the oversized doors, running a hand through his half-frozen hair as he strode straight into the lounge.
He saw Ash immediately. He was playing pool, his hair falling into his eyes as he studied the configuration of colored balls on the table. A red-haired woman leaned against the table next to him, and for a moment, Eiji wondered if Ash had found someone to play against while he waited.
But no—that wasn’t right. Their body language didn’t match at all.
Eiji was halfway across the room when it happened. It looked to him like Ash had turned away from her to take a shot on the pool table, when she stepped behind him. Quick as lightning, Ash spun away, twisting her into some kind of arm lock while her drink shattered on the tile floor. Eiji was running even before she cried out.
“Ash!” he called, fear bubbling up inside him. The look on Ash’s face was cold, his eyes narrow and icy. It was a version of Ash that Eiji had seen only in old news articles and true crime websites, and he wondered what the woman had said or done to bring out that expression.
Ash’s eyes found him and he immediately released her, stepping toward Eiji. His expression changed, growing not softer, but more real, somehow. “Ash?” Eiji asked. “Are you okay? What happened?”
The woman, now released from the hold, recovered quickly, lunging toward Ash with a furious snarl.
Eiji jumped between them, holding out one hand to block her. It deflected her elbow, knocking her backward one staggering step. “How dare you touch me?” she hissed.
“How dare you touch him?” Eiji countered.
“Excuse me?” A man suddenly appeared behind Eiji, his badge indicating he was the security manager. A woman in a black apron followed close behind, immediately crouching to clean the shattered drink from the floor. “Is there a problem here?”
“I should say so,” the woman smoothed her hair and straightened her blouse. “That man,” she pointed at Ash, “grabbed me, and then that man,” this time she gestured toward Eiji this time, “pushed me.”
Shit. Eiji didn’t have to be an American to understand how fraught this situation could get. Accusations of assault—especially coming from white women—weren’t taken lightly. He looked between the woman and the manager. She looked triumphant, but to the man’s credit, he kept his face neutral.
The security offer turned his serious gaze toward Ash and Eiji.
“I was just trying to play pool,” Ash explained in a voice that was trying desperately to keep its cool. “She came over, wanting to chat. I wasn’t interested.” He picked up the pool cue and set it back on the table. “She was too persistent.”
The woman barked out a laugh. “That’s rich,” she muttered.
Eiji felt Ash stiffen behind him, reminding Eiji that he was angry. Probably angrier than Eiji had ever seen him before. He wanted to reach back, to try to soothe him, but he’d promised not to touch without notice.
“And you, sir?” the officer asked Eiji. “How are you involved?”
Eiji ran his hand through his hair. Still wet—he must look ridiculous. “This man is my husband,” he explained. “She appeared to be…harassing him.”
An eyebrow quirked. “Is this true, ma’am?”
The woman’s eyes blazed. She looked past Eiji at Ash, her lip curling in disgust. “These goddamned faggots shoved me!” she insisted, suddenly cradling her wrist like it was injured. “I demand you throw them out or I’ll press charges.”
The sick feeling that roiled in Eiji gut at the slur was nothing compared to the twist of panic at the thought of the police getting involved. Ash couldn’t be involved in anything like that, not without risking serious trouble in New York. Eiji was sure he hadn’t hurt her, but he didn’t know how to prove it. He wished he’d had his camera and time to document it.
“Cameras!” he cried, almost before the idea solidified in his head. He turned to Ash. “They have cameras everywhere, right?”
Ash stepped forward. “If we’re getting the authorities involved,” he said smoothly, suddenly the millionaire socialite he’d been when they checked in, all traces of the gang leader once more tucked away, “then we’ll need to see the security footage of my pool game. It will demonstrate that I’m the one with a reason to press charges.” He looked down at the woman who was already sputtering her outrage. “Sexual assault charges.”
The blood drained from the woman’s face, only to be replaced in a rush as her cheeks flushed furiously. “I have never been so insulted in my life,” she huffed, but she turned on her heel and stormed out of the lounge.
“Would you like to file a complaint, sir?”
Ash waved his hand. “No need. Thank you.”
The security manager nodded and walked away. Only then did Ash relax, sagging against the edge of the pool table. He took a deep breath and released it in a staggered sigh, his cool veneer cracking open just enough for Eiji to glimpse the strain that hid beneath.
“Is it okay if I teach you to play some other time?” Ash asked, his voice haggard.
“Wanna go back to the cabin?” Eiji offered. They’d been planning on Christmas dinner, but it was clear that Ash needed to get out of there. “We can order room service.”
“Sounds expensive,” Ash joked unsteadily as they left the lounge.
Eiji shrugged. “I married a guy with millions of dollars,” he reasoned, glad enough that Ash was cracking jokes that he didn’t mind being the butt of one.
Ash snorted. “Hundreds of millions,” he corrected.
The retort made Eiji choke on his breath. “Hundreds?” he squeaked.
Ash grinned, almost himself again. “Two hundred still counts as hundreds,” he reasoned.
Eiji wondered if that was how much he’d initially stolen, or if that was how much he had left after five years of spending. Italian sports cars and apartments weren't cheap, after all. He decided not to ask.
Snow had started falling again as they walked up the boardwalk toward their cabin. It was so remote and isolated, and Eiji suddenly realized what a coward he’d been, leaving Ash alone out there all day. His feelings were his own problem—he had to find a way to handle them that didn’t involve running away from and abandoning Ash.
“I’m sorry,” he said now, though he knew he’d never begin to express all the things he was really apologizing for.
Ash looked at him curiously. “For what?”
“Aren’t I supposed to prevent women like that from approaching you?” Eiji asked. “That’s why you married me, right?”
“You’re not my bodyguard,” Ash said, shaking his head.
It was true, but somehow not good enough. He remembered Ash’s confession over a month before: I don’t like it when someone tries to hold me from behind. It took nothing to puzzle out why that particular act might trigger him, and Eiji wondered how much of what this woman did to him might add to all the things he already carried.
He should’ve gotten there sooner.
Still, it was clear that Ash didn’t want to talk about it, so Eiji let the subject drop. He wasn’t sure he was equipped to help Ash with this, anyway, though something deep inside him longed to try.
*
Much later, after they’d eaten their room service dinner and Eiji had slipped out for a soak in their private pool, the incident in the lounge was still eating at Ash. He hadn’t expected her to touch him. He’d been caught completely off guard this time, and that pissed him off.
The more distance he put between himself and his childhood, the less likely it seemed that anyone would try something like that with him. He’d grown to be almost six feet tall, after all, and while he’d never become the muscle-bound beefcake that Blanca had tried to turn him into, Ash didn’t think he looked particularly vulnerable. So why? How did the monsters know?
He changed into swimming shorts and slipped into the pool beside Eiji, hoping that a bit of company would pull him out of the dark headspace that had swallowed him up. He sunk down past his shoulders, closing his eyes. He’d pretty much decided he was a fan of these hot springs. The shock of cold when he’d removed his robe had been painful, but it faded quickly as his body absorbed the soothing heat of the water, and in moments his physical body, at least, was relaxed and content.
“Are you really okay?” Eiji asked, his voice tentative.
Ash didn’t know how to answer. On the surface, yes, he was fine. He’d dealt with worse than that more times than he could count, and he was already sick of letting it ruin his day.
More deeply, though, he was less sure. Ash knew there were a million badly-healed cuts inside him, a million places where scar tissue warped the shape of him, and until someone poked one, he didn’t know how to tell which scars had gone smooth and which still had painful, raw edges. It would be impossible to explain them all, so Ash had long ago decided not to try. Not with Max, or his therapist, or even Shorter. He kept secrets from all of them, even when he wanted to be honest.
But Eiji’s eyes were full of something soft. Something that made Ash long to press Eiji’s fingers against the torn, clumsily-knit places in his soul. He wanted Eiji to understand everything he couldn’t express.
“It’s not usually women,” Ash said after a long time, half surprised to hear the words out loud. “I mean, what she did was barely even anything—I’ve dealt with worse on the goddamned subway, you know? But I didn’t expect that here. Tonight. On motherfucking Christmas.”
Ash slumped down, letting the water cover his chin, then his mouth, close enough to his nose that his breath rippled the surface. He’d thought that the wealthy families that came to Colorado for the holidays would be fundamentally different from the rich assholes that seemed to populate the entire east coast. He’d thought that all he would have to do was look and act the part, and no one would know what he was really street trash from a depraved city.
Ash was fairly sure that Eiji had never been forcibly groped in public. Most people weren’t. It wasn’t normal for people to want to do that. And yet somehow, he’d racked up an unbelievable number of instances of exactly that.
He tilted his head back, soaking the back of his head and gazing up through the snow that fell from the cloudy night sky. “I’m pretty sure there’s something wrong with me,” he said softly. “It’s like these people can see exactly where I’m weak, exactly where to apply pressure so I can’t fight back.” A long, deep sigh pushed up from his chest, weary and sorrowful. “I’ve always wondered how they could tell.”
“No,” Eiji said at once. Ash didn’t move to look at him, but his voice was fierce, angry in a way Ash hadn’t heard before. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Ash,” he insisted. “That woman—she’s the one who was wrong. She has a problem, not you. Never you.”
Ash thought that maybe this was Eiji’s superpower, this uncanny ability to make Ash feel protected. He couldn’t change the world or guarantee that bad things wouldn’t happen, but the way he shielded him, deflecting the worst of it—Ash had thought that had died with Griffin.
“You have no idea how much I wish I believed you.”
Eiji didn’t speak right away, and the light splash of the water was the only sound for a long time. “How old were you?” he asked at last. His voice was low and serious. “How old were you when you first met Dino Golzine?”
That name in Eiji’s soft accent was like a physical blow, and Ash winced away from it.
But why? Why was it such a shock to hear Eiji mention him? It was all in Max’s book, after all. More subtext than plainly stated, maybe, but anyone reading carefully would find it there, especially when combined with all the shit he’d alluded to in those letters they’d been writing to each other. Of course Eiji knew. They’d been talking about it this whole time.
But never out loud.
Ash closed his eyes and tried to feel the snow falling onto his face. “Eleven.” It was a confession, an acknowledgement of a time he didn’t talk about. A time he tried never to think about. He’d been living on the streets for a couple of years, and even as a kid who too often found himself trading blow jobs and worse for a meal or a warm bed, he’d known better than to let Golzine’s men near him—all the boys knew better. But his empty stomach had made him reckless, and one day he’d taken candy from the wrong stranger. “I was so stupid. They offered me a couple of hotdogs—”
Eiji reacted so violently that the water sloshed, a warm wave slapping against Ash’s face. Ash sat up, sputtering, and was shocked when Eiji’s palm cupped his jaw, tilting it up. “Look at me,” Eiji demanded in a rough voice. He leaned close enough that their foreheads bumped, and his dark eyes looked hard into Ash’s. “It wasn’t your fault,” Eiji insisted. "Never say that. Never think it.”
The breath knocked out of Ash’s lungs as though he’d fallen, condensing in the cold air into a cloud that broke across Eiji’s face. A part of his mind registered that Eiji had touched him without asking, but the rest of him didn’t care because it was Eiji and Eiji was safe and Ash felt crazed, starved for safe touches because his whole life had been a wasteland, and didn’t desert animals crave water, water, all the damn time?
“It feels like it was my fault.” He’d never said it out loud, even in therapy, never wanted to disappoint the nice lady the state had assigned him in their effort to cover the bare minimum of their responsibility to a troubled teen. But here, with Eiji’s hand on his face, Eiji’s dark eyes only inches away, here for the first time, it could finally come out.
Eiji’s lips parted helplessly, a choked sound mingling with a huff of warm, damp breath that washed over Ash’s cheeks like a wave. He dropped his hand and shook his head like he didn’t believe what he was hearing. “Dino Golzine is to blame for what he did to you. What he let others do to you,” he said, his voice low enough to sound ominous. “You were a kid,” Eiji swallowed the pieces of those last words like they'd shattered in his throat, like he was swallowing shards of glass. “Even if you begged for it on your hands and knees, none of it was your fault.”
Ash counted a dozen heartbeats as they sat there, half naked and silent, staring into each other’s faces in that pool of warm, dark water. He had never felt this intoxicating combination of vulnerability and absolute safety. Of course, Eiji wasn’t the first to say that to him—Max, Shorter, and a half a dozen social workers had told him the same damn thing—but for the first time in his godforsaken life, Ash thought he might believe it. He pressed his lips together, afraid for a second that he might cry. “Okay.”
Their ragged breath mingled between them, until Eiji backed slowly away. “Good,” he said softly, sinking down into the water. He leaned his head back onto the rocks and closed his eyes. Snow tumbled from the sky, melting the instant it touched his skin. Ash was transfixed by the fierce redness that blossomed across Eiji’s cheeks, by the sweat that beaded on the skin above his lip. Ash resisted the urge to wipe it off, resisted the impulse to touch Eiji’s lips with his fingers.
A wildness built up in Ash’s torso and his body demanded something he didn’t understand. His focus kept dropping to Eiji’s mouth, as if the answer to whatever was raging through Ash’s body was right there.
“Is it wrong that I always want to kiss you?” he asked at last, each word part of an alien language that was finally making sense.
Eiji’s eyes flew open. “What?” he cried. His serene expression vanished into confusion, triggering shame and regret that burned like fire through Ash’s veins.
He shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “I must be overheated.” He got out of the pool, almost forgetting his robe in his hurry to get inside. He scooped it up at the last minute and rushed through the door. Some mortifying combination of embarrassment and anger surged through him, so he didn’t even notice the cold.