Chapter Twenty-Five

Of all the days to be late, it had to be this one. The entire downtown line was delayed because of a sick passenger, and Luke had zero sympathy. He didn't have a seat, the train was overcrowded with people, and the air-conditioning blew lukewarm air, sending the aroma of whatever the guy leaning against the pole was eating, drifting past his face, making breathing almost unbearable.

Finally, with a lurch and a squeal, the train started up again. It was only two stops until he reached the 18th St. station, but in New York City travel time, that could take five minutes or a half an hour. By the time he emerged from underground and stopped to heft his backpack further up his shoulder, the sun had set already. Luke checked his watch and grimaced at the time. Almost seven thirty. He should've been home an hour ago. They'd asked Ash and Drew to come by at seven. His stomach cramped, as it had been doing all day. He'd barely been able to choke down any food, thinking about tonight.

Him and Ash, together. Talking to each other for the first time in almost fifteen years.

What the fuck had he been thinking? What would he say to Ash, and more importantly, what the hell did Ash think he could say to Luke that could ever make up for leaving? He drew in deep breaths, thinking somehow his mind would miraculously clear and his heartbeat would slow down instead of banging around like an out-of-control conga-line drummer.

He turned the corner on his street, forcing himself to push forward. The taste of dread lay thick in his mouth and throat. Fight through your fears. Own and control it . That's what Jordan had said to him, and he'd used that as a mantra. Goddamn it . His grip tightened on the strap of his backpack.

He wasn't afraid of Ash; why should he be? It wasn't Luke who left, slinking out in the dead of night, pretending he'd come back for them. All those weeks of waiting and hoping, seeing Brandon's face light up when the mail would come, big eyes bright with hope, only to fall and crease in disappointment as he bravely held back the tears when no letter from Ash came. Ever.

No, Luke wasn't that scared kid any longer, and he wasn't alone. He had Jordan and Wanda. Since he'd known he wouldn't be able to eat lunch today, he'd gone to the shelter to talk to Wanda. To say she was thrilled with the news that he was moving in with Jordan was an understatement.

"Baby doll, I knew he was the one who was gonna get under your skin and find a home there." She hugged him long and hard, smothering him with vanilla-scented kisses and love. "Both of you needed someone so badly, but I was afraid you'd shut the door on him like you did everyone else."

His heart squeezed as he looked at her loving face. "I tried," he admitted, recalling his attempts to forget Jordan. "He's very persistent." And ultimately unforgettable. Jordan lived his life the way he came after Luke; unashamed, unafraid, and unapologetic for his actions, whether they were right or wrong. What was it Ash had called him once? A proud and arrogant bastard. Perhaps, but underneath it all was a man who loved deeply and fiercely. A man who was unswervingly and unflinchingly loyal. A man who cared for the unwanted. Luke counted himself lucky to be the one who got to see the side of Jordan few ever did. A tender, caring man who took in a homeless dog or sat with a child from the shelter, helping her with schoolwork because her mother had to work late.

He took Wanda's calloused, gentle hands and kissed them. "Life is mysterious. We think we're in control, but we're only holding on for the ride, trying not to lose our grip."

"Your man holds on to you tight. He loves you so." She wiped her eyes. "Now it's time for you to make up with that brother of yours." She held up her finger when he tried to stop her. "Promise me you'll listen to what he has to say. You may be surprised," she said with a smile. "Like you said, life is mysterious."

He opened the front door, and Sasha greeted him. He bent down to pet her, then straightened up and listened. Again his gut twisted as he heard laughter coming from the kitchen. Shit, fuck . Closing his eyes and counting to ten, he took a deep breath and headed to the back of the house. By the time he entered the kitchen, he'd managed to at least put together an outward appearance of a man in control. Meanwhile, on the inside, his teeth bit down on his inner cheek until the pain made him focus on the scene in front of him.

"Hello, everyone. Sorry I'm so late, but the trains were really fucked up tonight." Without looking at either Drew or Ash, he instead concentrated on Jordan.

Jordan's eyes lit up, and he slid off his chair to greet him. "There you are. I was getting concerned. Come on and sit down. Drew and Ash brought sandwiches, and I've got a beer waiting with your name on it." They kissed, and he sank down in the chair next to Jordan and took a long, grateful swig of his beer. While it tasted great, it unfortunately did little to quell the nerves playing havoc with his system. Underneath the table, Jordan squeezed his thigh, leaving his hand to rest there, offering comfort and support.

Showtime.

"So." He placed his beer bottle on the table and, with a calm he didn't feel inside, stared at Ash. "Why don't we get this over with?"

Ash's mouth tightened. "Is that all this is to you then? Something to check off your To-Do List?" He pushed Drew's hand off his shoulder. "Don't. I'm fine." Anger seeped out of his words. "I've waited years to talk to you. Now that the time has come, I won't let you rush through it."

What a joke . "You don't get to make the rules. Maybe when I was young and naive, I let you be in charge. Those days are gone. Long gone." If Ash thought he was in control here, he'd find out soon enough how wrong he was.

"When we were kids, I looked up to you—worshiped you. You were my older brother who could do no wrong. My family . Then you walked away without a backward glance. You knew we were too young to come with you when you asked me to. You had no trouble forgetting who you'd left behind. So no. You gave up any right to tell me what to do when you forgot about us."

With each word, Ash shook his head with increasing ferocity, his breath expelling in quick, hard bursts until he interrupted Luke with a harsh cry. "It's not true. I swear. I never forgot. I searched for you, and even though you changed your name, I never gave up. Never. I still haven't given up on Brandon." His hand slammed down on the table. "I won't let you dismiss me now."

"Maybe you should have thought about the reason why I changed my name." Luke's voice shook. "Maybe I didn't want you to find me." Luke dug his nails into the scarred wooden top of the table. "You left and never looked back. You didn't fucking care."

Something dark flickered in Ash's silvery eyes. "That's not true."

This dancing around the elephant in the room was getting them nowhere. "You haven't got the guts to admit it to me; that's fine. I'm not even angry anymore because I've finally gotten what I've always wanted." He took Jordan's hand and held it. This man was his rock. His family. Ash, however, still needed to hear the ugly truth.

"It doesn't matter anymore because I have Jordan. But when you go to sleep at night, I hope you can admit to yourself what you did to Brandon and me. That you left us alone with a vicious drunk and a physical abuser who also liked to touch young boys."

Ash visibly flinched. Luke pushed ahead with his gruesome story. Perversely, he wanted Ash to hurt and to hear from Luke's lips the carnage he'd left behind.

"He left me alone for two years after you left. Every once in a while he'd look at me funny or make a strange remark to me. I ignored it but made sure to always look out for Brandon. But one night he came into my room and tried to touch me. I screamed so loud Mom—Mrs. Munson—and Brandon came running into my room. I told them to leave, get out. Go to Mrs. Cartwright down the road." He blinked to try and forestall the rush of tears at the memory, but it did no good. "So they left and I remained alone with that bastard. He laughed at me, thanking me for getting us alone together."

Memories of that night flooded his mind. For over twelve years he'd kept it bottled up, but now the doors were flung open and evilness waited, ready to be revealed in all its ugliness.

"He tried to pin me down, but I went berserk, punching and kicking him. When he pulled out his gun, I thought that was it. I was going to die."

"Lucas." Jordan breathed. "You don't have to do this. It's over now. He can't hurt you anymore."

Luke's laughter caught in a sob. "It's never going to be over. Don't you see? It's like a brand, burned into my mind. Every time I close my eyes I see him, that monster." Like a movie playing in his mind, Luke heard the sickening thuds of Munson's boots against his flesh and recalled the excruciating pain as the man kicked him with his steel-toed boots, all the while holding the gun over him. Luke barely felt Jordan put his arm around him, holding him, soothing him. Loving him.

The pain receded as, for the first time in years, he cried for the child he'd been.

"I love you, Lucas. And I'm so proud of you for this. You've beaten your demons. You're in control." Jordan gently touched his lips to Luke's, and he kissed Jordan back like a drowning man breaking the water's surface. Needy, desperate, and gasping.

Several minutes passed before he regained his self-control. After he'd dried his eyes and taken a cold drink of water, he watched as Drew murmured something in Ash's ear. Oh no. Ash wasn't going to be stroked by his boyfriend and made to feel better. Luke wanted him to feel what Luke had gone through, smell the fear and the blood and sweat, as if Ash had been in that very room when he and Munson were fighting to what seemed like the death. Because Luke had no doubt that if he hadn't passed out that night, he'd have died. Munson must've gotten scared and fled when Luke failed to move and respond.

"Do you know that was the last time I ever saw Brandon? I never got a chance to see him or say good-bye. At some point I passed out from the pain, and when I woke up, I was in the hospital. Later on they told me someone had called the police, saying I'd been hurt during a break-in at the house. I was alone, unconscious, and the Munsons had taken Brandon and disappeared. I never saw any of them again. By the time I recovered and was discharged, they'd left town, and no one knew where they'd gone."

Ash's eyes looked like holes in his white face. "I—"

"No. Not you. Me, Ash. This has nothing to do with you. I was the one left in a hospital, not even eighteen, abandoned, alone with no one who cared. I was so fucking scared. Everyone and everything I knew had been ripped out from under me, and I had no idea what I was going to do or where I would even live. I had no money, no home. Nothing."

The humiliation of those days came rushing back on him. The first place he'd gone to after sneaking out and running away from the hospital was the only place he remembered as home. The social workers at the hospital had to be wrong; the Munson's couldn't have left. But it was true; the house sat dark and abandoned. The Munsons and Brandon had vanished without leaving a trace of where they might've gone. He'd sat on the broken-down steps of the wooden porch and cried like a baby. After a while he'd wiped his eyes and his nose, and with everything he owned in his backpack, he'd headed down the road to the highway. And as he walked, he'd left himself behind. Lucas Carini was no more. Luke Conover, a name he picked from a phone book, was born. And that person would never get hurt, would never care about anything except making sure no one would ever hurt him again.

Feeling the weight of Ash's stare on him, Luke glared back. "Do you remember what we used to talk about at night, or did you forget that too?" The memories of the two of them lying in their beds, sharing their dreams of glory, wrapped themselves around Luke. He'd wanted to be a baseball player, and Ash had wanted to travel the world. "We were going to make it out of there. Have families and share our Thanksgivings and Christmases together. It was supposed to be us against the world, but first we'd take care of and protect Brandon. He was ours, never theirs. But somewhere along the line you forgot us, didn't you? We weren't enough for you."

"No, no. It wasn't that, never that, Lukie, please believe me."

It almost choked Luke to hear the silly, teasing nickname. His anger rose, and that, along with the hurt and disappointment ricocheting through him, almost broke him. "Don't call me that." He lashed out as the traitorous tears stung his eyes. "That was from another time when you loved and cared about me. When you promised to always be there for Brandon and me. You gave up that right. But you knew what Munson was and you still left, didn't you? What happened, Ash? Did he come to you one night, and you freaked out so badly you ran away?" Ash shook his head, but Luke ignored him. "I looked up to you, and it broke me to my knees to know you cared so little. I thought you were my real brother. I wanted you to be. And Brandon." The tears rained down Luke's cheeks. "He was innocent; a little boy who adored you. I thought we were a family. But you didn't love us like that."

"That wasn't it. You don't understand."

"Then make me, goddamn you." He slammed his hand so hard on the table that Sasha yelped and ran out. "Make me understand how you could say you loved us and yet leave us there. Make me understand how I was left alone to protect Brandon from that bastard."

"You want to understand?" Ash thrust his chair hard behind him, teetering on two legs before righting itself. His teeth bared in a snarl while tears dripped down his cheeks. "Fine, yeah, I'll tell you. I knew. That's right." He braced his hands on the table, leaning across into Luke's stunned face. "I fucking knew what he was. How? Because I let him touch me instead of you. I let him fucking rape me instead of you."

Tears poured down Ash's face as Drew slid his arms around Ash's waist. But Ash never took his eyes off Luke, who sat, breathless and reeling from shock and horror. "Every time he touched me, I wanted to die. But I held on so he wouldn't ever do to you and Brandon what he did to me. For years that bastard came to me with a sick smile and told me if I didn't let him fuck me or if I didn't blow him, he'd make you do it." Ash closed his eyes for a moment, more tears spilling out from the corners of his eyelids, wetting his cheeks. "He said he'd take Brandon too. So I had to let him. I couldn't let him touch you, and Brandon was just a little kid. After a while, I was a body, a shell. It wasn't me he was having sex with." He swallowed hard. "It was something he did to someone else."

Luke could barely breathe. "Ash, stop. You don't have to—"

"Oh yes, I fucking have to, don't you see? That bastard stole everything from us. Our childhood, our innocence. Our dreams." Ash dropped his head in his hands. "He stole my life."

The world could explode right outside, and Luke wouldn't notice. He bit down and tasted the metallic tang of his own blood. Without even realizing what he was doing, he walked around the table to Ash and grabbed one of his hands. Ash's palm, clammy and cold, shook in Luke's grip. They locked gazes, and Luke fell into the wasteland of Ash's eyes.

"For all these years it's eaten me alive inside, the guilt, the hatred I have for myself." The short, smooth nails of Ash's fingers dug into Luke's skin, but Luke made no protest. The only thing that mattered now was hearing Ash's story. Luke concentrated on the movement of Ash's lips as the rest of the room spun away.

"You didn't know; how could you? I never wanted you to. But there comes a time, a breaking point. I couldn't take it anymore. I swear I tried to be strong, to stay and watch out for you and Brandon, but I was dying inside." He pulled Luke to sit next to him, and Luke willingly sank into the chair. The truth could sometimes be more devastating than what the imagination dreamed up. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought Ash had been a victim.

"I wanted so many times to end it all, and almost succeeded, but then I found Drew. He forced me to get into therapy. Over the past year I've begun to see maybe it wasn't all my fault. That sometimes outside influences force a person's hand to do things they never imagined. And that maybe I also deserved that happy ending other people always got." Ash looked down at their entwined hands. "And I didn't want to die, really, without ever finding out that maybe you would forgive me."

Drew slipped his arms around Ash. "Ash still needs to learn to forgive himself."

Dread filtered through the fog in Luke's brain. "What do you mean, you tried to end it all?" He caught the quick look between the two of them. Jordan appeared at his side, but Luke barely registered his presence. "Tell me," he begged Ash. "Please."

Jordan's hands came down on Luke's shoulders, and they shared a glance. "Do you know what he's talking about?"

Jordan shook his head. "Not a clue." He bent to whisper in Luke's ear. "Considering his fragile state, do you think you should continue?"

"Did I hear correctly? Dr. Jordan Peterson expressing sympathy toward me? This truly is a night of firsts." Ash's sad, weak smile was a shadow of its usual devil-may-care self. "Lukie, sometimes things are better off remaining buried in the shadows. I'm sure you have things in your past you want to forget."

Several beats of silence passed before Luke spoke. "I whored myself when I got out of the hospital." Luke blurted to the stunned faces around him. Jordan's grip tightened on his shoulders.

Never taking his eyes off Ash's devastated face, Luke patted Jordan's hand. "It's okay. Let me speak." He stood, continuing to hold Ash's hand. "I'd like to go into the living room with Ash if that's okay. Give us a little time to sort things out together." He kissed Jordan's cheek. "I love you."

"I'm so proud of you." Jordan gave him a brief, hard hug. Luke, still holding Ash's hand, walked with him in silence to the front of the house. He sat on one end of the sofa and Ash at the other. For several minutes, Luke stared at his brother. No matter the years that had passed and the anger he'd nurtured and lived on these years, this man was his blood as if they had been born to the same mother.

As he relayed his story of hitchhiking up to Washington DC and what the truck drivers made him do, Ash sat, a frozen silent statue, the horror in his eyes betraying his tightly held emotions.

"Luke," Ash breathed. "I'm sorry. I wish it was me. It was all my fault this happened to you."

Before tonight, Luke would've agreed. But after hearing the devastating story of Ash's own years of abuse, Luke finally understood why Ash had to leave. A breaking point. The point of no return. And Ash had been a child as well when all this happened to him. He'd hidden it so well; Luke never suspected a thing. But then again, they all had their secrets.

"Remember the summers when we used to go fishing in the creek down the road?" It had been a treat to get away from the heat of the house and spend a day in the cool shade of the trees. He and Ash would take their makeshift fishing poles and a basket of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and spend afternoons with their toes in the icy running water. They talked about being gay in a small town and how they had to hide it from everyone at school.

"Yeah." Ash leaned back and toyed with the sofa cushion tassel. His eyes had that faraway look, of another time and place. "I remember every minute. I taught you everything I knew." Those fathomless bright eyes turned to him. "The only good in my life came from you. You and Brandon. When I left, I tried to tell the police, but they wouldn't listen to me. I was merely another gay runaway kid. And of course, since Munson was a cop, why would they believe me—a homeless kid nobody cared about. Once I had the resources, though, I never stopped looking for you."

That Luke could believe. For years he'd known someone was trying to find him, even as far back as him living in the shelter. Wanda had told him of people asking questions about a Lucas Carini.

"My investigator is still out there searching for Brandon. I can't rest or forgive myself completely until I know what's happened to him." Ash wiped the tears off his cheeks.

"Tell me about Drew."

It was as if a hand had come by and smoothed away the tension and worry from Ash's face. All the harsh planes and furrows softened, and he transformed into a different person. "Until I met Drew, I was drifting through life, screwing everyone I met. He saved me. There's no one else like him." The lightness faded from his eyes. "If I hadn't met him…" Ash shook his head but said no more.

The feeling of dread returned from their earlier conversation. "You said before you wanted to die. Did you try and kill yourself, Ash?" Even in his most desolate times, Luke had never thought to end his life. Perhaps his anger had kept him alive.

Shooting him an unreadable look, Ash hesitated a moment, then reached down and unbuttoned his shirtsleeves. With growing horror, Luke watched as Ash rolled up the cuffs and revealed the twisted, ugly scars of his past.

"Asher…" The words caught in Luke's throat at the pain and heartbreak for his brother who had, unbeknownst to him, suffered so much guilt. He left his seat to join Ash at his end of the sofa. "Why?" The marks, though ugly, weren't new, thank God. They twisted around his wrists and forearms in snakelike patterns, weaving around in thin white lines. Some, however, were thicker and told a deeper story of the torment Ash had lived through all those lost years.

"It was the only control I had over my body, the only thing Munson couldn't take from me. I decided what to do." The words came out in a heartbroken whisper. "And when I'd think of you and Brandon and how I'd failed you, I wanted to hurt myself as punishment for my cowardice and shame. It doesn't matter anymore. In therapy I've learned to stop blaming myself for what I couldn't control and to control what I can but never hurt myself in the process. Because I'm worth something."

"Oh, Ash." Without thinking, Luke put his arms around his brother for the first time in years and let go of the chains around his heart. In order to love Jordan the right way, he needed this reconciliation with Ash. It was time for him to forgive. Let go of the pain and anger he'd lived with for so long. Let go of the shame of his birth and childhood. There'd been so much damage done to them that they'd had no control over. Who was he to decide who should be forgiven and who should be held up for blame? He wasn't God, that was for certain. And he'd made enough mistakes in his own life that not only did he ask for forgiveness, he expected it.

Who was he to deny Ash that same right?

That list he'd made all those years ago of past hurts and pain that had dominated his life had little meaning. The memories of the abuse they'd endured would always be there, but together, he and Ash could lock it away in its rightful place as a reminder of where they'd come from and how far they'd moved on.

"You are so worth it. We both are. I'm sorry we both suffered. We aren't the same kids we were back in Georgia, and thankfully we don't ever have to go back to those days. Whatever we do now, we have the chance to make it right." He took Ash's hands in his. "Let me help you search for Brandon. It's killing me to think he's alone. The three of us always promised to stick together, no matter what."

"All for one and one for all, remember?" said Ash with a shaky laugh.

The Three Musketeers. That's what they'd called themselves when Brandon came to live with them. Luke smiled at the memory. "I carried that book for years with me. I never forgot it. And I never forgot you."

Serious once again, Ash looked him straight in the eyes. "We can still do it, can't we? Become the family we'd always dreamed about?"

When he was a boy, Luke had often cried at night, wishing he had a mother to hold him and kiss him when he had bad dreams. As he grew older, he'd learned some nightmares were beyond the help of a mother's love. But family wasn't always made up of blood. It wouldn't come easy, this reconciliation. Ash's battle with guilt was a daily fight, and Luke still struggled with his own shame and the need to hide behind his walls. Yet the yearning to reconnect, to forge those bonds of brotherhood they'd sworn to so long ago, that's what he would focus on and work toward. And now they had the search for Brandon as the starting point to help rebuild their broken relationship. How many people got a second chance?

A noise from the hallway drew his attention. The soft light from the chandelier gilded the gold of Jordan's hair and Drew's pale skin as they stood in the doorway. Sasha sat at their feet. The loving look Drew gave to Ash and the fiercely proud smile Jordan wore were all he needed.

"I think we already have that covered."