Chapter Twenty

Gage

" G age?"

I'm interrupted by the sound of my name being called, which causes me to turn my gaze toward the bedroom door.

"In here," I call out.

Rounding the corner, Ash comes into sight, freezing in his tracks and fixating his gaze on me. He's wearing black fitted jeans with some well-placed, fashionable rips. He's paired them with a sleek, black silk Tom Ford button-down, which contrasts perfectly with his new chunky boots. Usually, he styles his hair in a combed-back quaff or brushes it back to one side, but tonight he's brought his hair forward in a textured quaff, which makes him look incredibly handsome.

"I, um, need some help with these cufflinks. Jax told me that fancy shirts are worn with cufflinks, but I'm not sure how to use them."

"Come here." He approaches me while I stand in front of the wall mirrors, having just styled my hair with some product. He drops two black guitar cufflinks into my hand. Why didn't I think of getting him a gift like that? My idea seems stupid now.

"Hold out your arm." He holds out the first wrist, then the second, as I slide them through the holes in the cuffs. "This shirt looks good on you," I tell him.

"Thank you. It was a gift from Jax, one of many, actually. He spoiled me. I've never had clothes this nice before."

He's mentioned his lack of money a few times, and it makes me curious about what his life was like before Hope.

Our reflection in the mirror catches his attention, and I can't help but notice how well we complement each other, despite my half-dressed state.

His quick intake of breath has me looking back at him. "What's wrong?"

"Your arm."

Swiftly, I conceal it behind my back. I've been keeping it uncovered, but I only do so when I'm alone or have a long-sleeve shirt on. Coming to terms with it being a part of me is still a struggle, and I really don't want to attract attention or face people's nosy inquiries. I'm not ready for that yet; I need more time to prepare myself.

"I'm sorry," I mumble. "Lemme just throw on a shirt." Just as I'm about to move, he swiftly captures my wrist, preventing me from going any further.

"Don't do that. I don't want you to hide from me." He looks up at me and then asks, "Does it hurt?"

"It's still tender, but not as painful as before."

"May I?"

Nodding, I offer my wrist to him, and he gently turns it over to examine the pink scar. With a gentle touch, he explores the texture of the ragged raised scar, his fingertips tracing its contours. Why would he want to look at something so ugly?

"When I'm around, let's agree to stop hiding this, okay? It's important you feel comfortable whenever you're around me," he says.

"Okay. I just can't deal with people judging me."

"You won't get it from me, and I doubt you'll get it from the guys, either."

I know he's right. Maybe I'll consider showing them my arm, but not tonight. This evening is about celebrating, not feeling sorry for myself.

"I like this," he says, letting go of my arm, his fingers grazing the fabric of my black string vest. "You're not wearing just that, right?" His brows scrunch up.

I let out a laugh. "Why? Am I considered too old for something that's meant for the young? Is it too cool for me?"

"What? No way, you're not old at all and it looks great on you, but everyone will totally see your body through it."

I raise my eyebrows, puzzled by why that would bother him.

"I mean, you can wear what you like. Dress however you like. It's perfectly fine and my opinion doesn't matter at all. Pay no attention to me. I'm going to finish getting ready now."

As I grab his wrist, I can feel his pulse racing beneath my fingers, and I pull him closer to me. It's cute when he rambles and gets all flustered. I put him out of his misery and tell him, "I'm wearing a shirt over it, so it'll cover most of my skin. You don't have to worry, baby. For your eyes only." I wink, and the suppressed whimper coming from Ash doesn't escape me.

I'm pretty sure that's relief I see coasting across his face. With him being so close, I can pick up on the subtle scent of his cologne, which carries notes of leather and the hair product he uses, blending with his natural scent. The thought of scrapping the entire party and keeping him locked away in my room forever is tempting. It will require immense self-control not to pounce on him tonight.

A resounding knock on the door announces the arrival of Max and Jaxon. Letting go of his wrist, Ash immediately turns to open the door for them.

Laughter fills the living room as I slip my dark green shirt over my arms. This shirt just happened to be the same shade as Ash's eyes, but that's not why I chose it, I swear. With my black cufflinks secured, I button my shirt up halfway, perfecting my polished look. I run my fingers through my hair one more time, ensuring every strand is in place, before giving myself a final once over in the mirrors. I'm glad I wore my black jeans; they fit my body perfectly, like a second skin. My brown boots complete the look. Not too bad for hitting forty.

"Come on, Casanova, hurry up," Max's voice echoes from the other room. With my phone in hand, I switch off the light, eagerly anticipating what the night has in store for me.

"This is a great turnout!" Max shouts enthusiastically, trying to be heard over the loud chatter. The doors have only been open for half an hour, yet the place is already bustling with people. Well-wishers and curious customers fill the room, all of whom have chosen to spend their Friday night here instead of elsewhere.

"Yeah, it's insane. Thankfully, Jax is lending a hand tonight." He's serving the doc and Sherry at the other end of the bar, his hands moving quickly as he pours and mixes.

Max leans in. "You gonna go welcome everyone? Introduce Ash?"

Just then, Jax calls out to me. "I need a hand down here with this order."

I turn back to Max. "Can you do it? I gotta help Jax right now."

"Yeah, no problem."

"Thanks, man."

I'm eager to hear Ash sing finally. This afternoon, he practiced riffs on his guitar, setting up his amplifier, and familiarizing himself with the new sound system and lights.

As I make my way to the other end of the bar to help Jax, I dim the key lights, casting a soft, warm glow over the room. Bathed in the glow from the spotlights, Ash and Max stand next to each other on the platform. Ash buries his hands deep in his pockets—a habit I've learned shows his anxiety.

I long to provide him with a sense of comfort, a warm embrace perhaps, but I hold back, uncertain of his response in the presence of others.

Max taps the microphone, producing a sharp metallic sound. "Good evening, everyone," he says, his voice warm and inviting. The room falls into a hushed silence, eagerly awaiting Max's words.

"I'd like to extend a warm welcome to all of you gathered here tonight to celebrate the grand reopening of Liquid Hope." The sound of clinking glasses and cheerful conversations fill the room. The collective cheers of the crowd uplift my spirits and fill me with happiness.

"Let's take a moment to remember someone who is no longer among us. As we all know, our late Aunt Petunia, may she rest in peace, was the one who started this bar and poured her heart into it. Most of you know she was not forthcoming in taking care of this place, which led to the unfortunate mishap of a fire that forced the bar to shut its doors. The good news is that my good friend Gage Miller, her nephew, has done a fantastic job of renovating this place to the highest standard. So, if you'd all join me in giving him a round of applause."

All eyes are on me as the crowd erupts in cheers. I lift my water bottle in a salute to them.

"Okay, take it easy. Giving him too much attention will only inflate his ego." Max's jokes bring laughter to everyone.

"Not only are we celebrating the reopening tonight, but we also have two major birthdays. Gage, get your ass over here."

I hand over the beer I just poured for a customer, add it to his tab, and then flip up one side of the bar, navigating my way over to Max. I position myself next to Ash. As he smiles at me, I mouth the words ‘ Are you okay ?' and he nods in response.

"I'm sure most of you have met our new resident, Ash," Max says, looking at the crowd. "And today, not only is he our resident singer, but it's also his twenty-first birthday."

It brings me joy to see people clapping and cheering for him. The fact he stopped celebrating birthdays raises questions about what he may be hiding.

"Besides Ash's birthday," Max booms over the microphone. "Today is also the birthday of our bar owner. However, unlike Ash, Gage is not twenty-one!"

The sound of chuckles ripples through the crowd.

"No, this one is ancient!" Max tells them, and the sound of their laughter fills the room once more. He thinks he's a regular stand-up comedian.

"Hey," I say, grabbing the microphone from Max. "I still have some life left in me, you know."

Taking back the mic, he smirks and sarcastically retorts, "Yeah, yeah, if you say so! Anyway, let's begin the evening by wishing my two friends a happy birthday. After that, we can continue with the night. Ash has some amazing songs prepared for us, and I'm really excited to hear him perform."

Leaning backward, Max flicks a switch, starting the first notes of Happy Birthday, prompting everyone to join in. Ash appears to be blushing at the attention and my fingers itch to touch him, but I resist, allowing him to make the next move. Leaning down, I gently whisper, "Happy birthday, my beautiful."

With a quick turn, a breathtaking smile spreads across his face.

The desire to lean in and kiss him right now has me in a chokehold.

The sound of cheers fills the room, and we redirect our focus toward them. I bow, and everyone bursts into laughter.

"Thanks to everyone for being here. Have a great evening," Max tells the crowd.

"Gage, go serve these awesome people some drinks. Ash, you wanna take it from here?"

Returning to my spot behind the bar, I see Max stepping off the stage and making a beeline toward me.

With his guitar in hand, Ash secures the strap over his shoulder and adjusts the microphone stand, making sure it's positioned just right. Taking a seat on one of Max's stools, he prepares to play.

With a swift strum of the guitar strings, he captures the eager crowd's attention. He then leans into the microphone, his voice amplified, as he addresses the audience. "Hey everyone. Are we all ready for some music?" The crowd erupts in cheers, their excitement filling the air. I don't know if it's just me, but his voice is deeper than usual, huskier somehow, and the deep bass goes straight to my groin, making my dick twitch in appreciation.

"I'll take that as a yes," he grins. "Let's get this party started! I'll kick things off with ‘ Let's Jump ' by You vs Yesterday."

It's as if a switch flips when he starts playing and singing. He suddenly transforms from this nervous guy into a confident performer. His voice sends shivers through me, making me wish I could sit up front with Marie instead of serving tonight. She was the first one to arrive this evening, excitedly telling me she needed the perfect spot to watch Ash. I can't help but feel a surge of pride, knowing how people have embraced him as part of their community.

The moment Ash sings ‘ Drop your Tailgate ' by Chase McDaniel, a wave of excitement washes over the younger crowd, prompting them to gather around the stage to get closer to him. I mean, who can blame them? He looks so sexy up there.

"Gage, hello?" Max is waving his hand in front of me.

"Sorry, what's up?" I shout over the noise.

"I'll have another beer!" he yells. "And Jax could use a helping hand down there."

Oh shit, he's right. A bunch more people just arrived. I hand Max his beer and then I go help.

For the next hour, we are non-stop busy, with everyone in high spirits and a lively atmosphere. Glancing at my watch, I realize Ash is due for a break soon, so I quickly prepare a lime soda for him, as per his request. Another small group catches my attention as they navigate through the crowd, determined to reach the bar. I quickly put Ash's drink behind me, ensuring its safety, and turn around, only to be met with fucking Tom the Twink.

In the past, I would've considered him cute in his pink crop top—especially with his head sporting short, pink-tipped, bleach-blond locks. However, at this moment, he no longer holds any appeal to me. These days, my attention seems to only be captivated by a certain dark-haired guy with green eyes.

He positions himself beside Max and admires him from head to toe, which sends my ick into overdrive. To avoid shouting all my business, I take out my phone and send a text to Max.

The guy next to you is someone I used to hook up with, and he has been texting me persistently for weeks, oblivious to the fact that I am not interested in him.

Max:

What do you want me to do?

Distract him, keep him away from me.

Max:

Why should I help you?

‘Cause I really like Ash and want nothing to mess that up.

He's gonna be on a break soon and I don't want this dude around me.

Our eyes meet briefly, and he gives a quick nod of understanding. He diverts his attention to Tom, engaging in a conversation, while I redirect my focus on serving another customer. I don't care if Max refuses my appreciation kisses and is a pain in the ass. He's all right sometimes.