15. Asher

FIFTEEN

As the daysmoved in their lazy summer fashion, I watched the people around me. The four of us, a family held together by duct tape and prayer. The relationships that shifted and changed. In the span of a few weeks, everything that had been our world had turned upside down. For the first time ever, I found something that resembled happiness. The true kind that came from enjoying another human being so purely and completely that almost nothing could cast a shadow over it.

On the opposite end of things, the people who had once loved each other so passionately were barely capable of sitting at the same table with the electric feel of tension sparking us all. Mom was unhappy. In fact, she was so clearly unhappy that I was ashamed I hadn't seen it sooner.

And George was tired. He was perpetually exhausted and on the verge of collapsing. Sure, he wore his easy smile and kept his tone light, but his eyes were older than they had been the last time I'd seen him.

Jordan was the oasis in this desert we called family. He was my well of tranquility. He was the embodiment of all my dreams. And a pillar on which I could see my future built.

Was it crazy to think up these grand plans in the hours when I was alone? Was it totally mad that I should hope to spend my life the way I'd spent these last few weeks? With him and all the things that came along with it. Laughing, fighting, sulking, fucking. I wanted it all until the end of time. The ambition was so big and bright that it made everything else pale in my mind. Everything I thought mattered was less important in comparison to holding onto Jordan.

I was supposed to be enjoying it. I was supposed to take pleasure in this wild, unimaginable, unpredictable thing we had carved out for ourselves.

So why was I crying?

Now and then, I would sit alone, and my gaze would drift, and I would go over things that had happened this summer, and tears would simply tickle me as they brimmed in my eyes and rolled down my cheeks.

I'd call myself silly, splash my face with water, and forget about it. The knot that tightened in my throat would loosen and I would go on as if nothing had happened. But the deep melancholy could only be buried for so long before clawing its way out of the grave in which I'd put it.

He made me happy.

In the hours we spent together, tears were not welcome. Only, perhaps, those fiery tears that came with the ecstasy of merging our souls and bodies. Those I let him kiss away from my face while I glowed with heat and adoration.

His steadiness and strength never stopped amazing me. His cool composure had once been the biggest thorn in my ass, but now I was grateful for it. It was, without an ounce of exaggeration, the reason we got through this summer.

Guilt was present deep in me whenever we mentioned our parents' looming divorce. Neither of them had spoken about it in front of us, but George was no longer taking his bedding into the bedroom before the house woke up. Instead, he moved into the room at the end of the hallway on the upper floor, surrendering the main bedroom to my mother. The tension between them was palpable but never addressed. They simply avoided engaging in most of the topics.

I should have been glad. They were both still in the best times of their lives. They were still attractive and successful in the adult ways I was only beginning to recognize. Perhaps I could understand the feeling of a personal failing that came with a second divorce, but I saw everything through the rosy glasses of someone deeply in love.

Their parting would clear the way for Jordan and me.

Lately, Jordan and I began talking about the future. Not in any real terms, but in passing. He would hold me in his big arms at night and we would watch the ceiling in my room while the sweat cooled on our bodies. He would whisper to me, "I can never have enough of you."

I would smirk to myself and raise my eyebrows at him. "You want to go again already?"

He would laugh lazily. "As a matter of fact, yes."

The conversation would go on hold for another hour and Jordan would take me to the stars and back. His rough treatment of my body was always more pleasurable than intimidating. His underwear shoved into my mouth to keep my moans down were always a triggering point in my journey to the climax and his muscled arms around me were always my favorite place to be.

"What do you think is gonna happen when we tell them?" I asked once. We were on the balcony in our underwear, catching a breath of fresh midnight air rolling in gusts from the mountains and the forest. It was abrupt but welcome. The day had been a stuffy, tiring one. The stars were hidden by thick clouds that carried a summer storm.

Jordan was watching the clouds, saddled over the concrete railing of the balcony. "Not much, I think," Jordan said after a few moments. "Why should they care now?"

I didn't search for all the reasons they should still care. I could probably find a dozen, a score, a mountain of reasons if I looked hard enough, but his words gave me such hope that I didn't want to taint that.

Foolishly, I believed what I wanted to believe. And I trusted Jordan's judgment. He had always been the person who considered things carefully before acting. As time went on, I began to believe that he had considered the risks and rewards of getting together with me, too, even if it always seemed like the storm of passion was what carried us.

Distantly, the sky was beginning to flash and glimmer with bolts of lightning.

It was supposed to be a welcome relief after the days of humidity and tiring heat. Even the grass and the trees were beginning to wither with the lack of rain. But the storm that was approaching made me nervous. Something ominous about it occupied my thoughts.

"We'll have to tell them," I whispered a while later. "Eventually."

Jordan looked at me with such a depth of feelings displayed across his face, lit only by the lights pouring out of my room, that I knew he felt the same. This wasn't just a summer fling. We had both spent too many years longing to let it pass in a flash. We were building something bigger and better than either of us had expected but both of us had always wanted. And if we wanted to do it right, we needed to be honest for once.

There was enough deception around here for a lifetime. Perhaps what we felt for one another had to live in the light of day in order to thrive.

"Ash, I want them to know," Jordan said. "I want everyone to know."

I wished it didn't fill me with dread when he said things like this. I wished I could cut off the fears that might have been totally uncalled for.

Jordan flung his leg back over the railing and dropped onto the balcony tiles, standing straight in front of me. He was so tall and handsome under the gentle light from my room. He was beautiful. And when he cupped my cheek like this, I was willing to jump off the edge of the Earth with him. "You and me," he said softly, his voice smoky deep. "I don't want us to be a secret. I'm not ashamed of it."

Was I ashamed? No. I didn't think I was. "Me too," I said. "I want everyone to know." But I don't want to break their hearts. Would it break their hearts, though? There was no knowing it until we told them. I'd played all the scenarios in my head until I was dizzy.

"We can't hide forever," Jordan went on. "Besides, I wouldn't want that. If it's us against the world, I'll always bet on us."

My lower lip quivered before I could control myself. The eruption of feelings rocked my body. All I could do to keep myself from collapsing was to throw my arms around his neck and hold him close, leaning my head on his shoulder, inhaling the exciting scent of his cologne, and letting myself feel everything that his words had sparked in me. Hope and dread and love.

He would bet on us.

"Why are you crying, baby boy?" he asked.

I didn't realize I was until a sob made my chest tremble. But it wasn't a sob at all. It was a laugh. "You make me happy," I whispered.

He said nothing else. Instead, he simply put a hand on the back of my head and held me there, on his shoulder, while happy tears brimmed in my eyes and a grin stretched so wide on my mouth I must have looked like a fool.

The storm arrived early in the morning. The rolling thunder ripped across the sky and startled me awake. Jordan was next to me because we didn't sleep apart anymore. He would sneak back to his room before "waking up" and heading downstairs. Or, when I slept in his bed, I would tiptoe across the balcony to do the same.

Rain pelted the white and blue tiles on the balcony floor, splashing the windows, drenching the ground, and nearly ripping the leaves off the trees according to the sound it made. The storm was much worse than what I'd expected. The bolts of lightning split the sky and thunder roared so loudly that the glass shook and rang in the window frames.

"Fuck," I murmured, sleepy after staying up so late and, frankly, a little scared. It was obviously day outside, but the clouds were so thick and dark that sunlight was struggling to get through them.

I only managed to sit up before a stronger wave of rain arrived, washing my windows and door like they were a cascading waterfall. I could barely see the world outside my room.

He wasn't sneaking over the balcony this morning. I wouldn't let him, even if he was foolish enough to try.

Jordan muttered something as another roar of thunder rippled above us.

Fear was beginning to fill me. I found Jordan's hand and squeezed it. My heart was speeding up, pounding against my ribcage. The wind was lashing the house and the rain came down in buckets. It wasn't that I distrusted George's construction skills, but this wasn't the sort of storm you expected.

I grabbed my phone and unplugged the charger, then looked around the room, trying to think if there was anything else I needed to unplug. Before I could get up, Jordan's eyes were open, and a frown was creasing his brow. But I didn't have time to say anything. We both knew he had to sneak back to his room before the thunder woke up our parents.

I inhaled a breath of air, as if to say something, when my heart nearly burst out of my chest. For a moment, I had no idea what had happened, except that my ears rang, and all my instincts told me to run for my life. A lightning bolt had struck something so close that a flash of white light with an almost purple edge poured into the room. At the same instant, the terrible crashing sound ripped through my skull.

I yelped in fright, and Jordan sat up, wrapping his arms around me as if he could protect me from a storm. At that moment, I believed that he could.

"George! Boys!" Mom. She called us loudly while thumping up the stairs. A door at the end of the hallway slammed shut.

I jumped out of bed and succeeded in pulling my underwear up my legs before my hands began trembling violently.

"Boys?" George echoed loudly. "Get up. Jordan!" Another door slammed open as I jumped out of my bed and crossed the room. "Jordan?" George was calling while panic entered his voice as if a lightning strike had pulverized his son.

My gaze darted to the window while fear crashed on me from all sides. I could see a blaze out there despite the rain. The flames were winking out under the downpour and my heart stopped for a second. The lightning bolt had struck the old oak in the backyard, splitting it in half.

It was pure luck it hadn't struck the house itself. But it still could.

As if time itself was slowing down, I still managed to look at the horrified expression on Jordan's face. It only lasted an instant before the door of my room flew open.

Had I not locked it last night? No. In the night, I had gone to the bathroom. Stupid, stupid boy. How could I have…? But what good would it have done us? Jordan was here and my mother was opening the door after they had found Jordan's room empty.

"Asher," Mom hissed in fear, finding me standing in the middle of the room, in my underwear, hair a mess of locks that went in every direction and eyes wide with fear. It took her a moment — a moment that seemed to last forever as my mind raced and raced — before her gaze moved from me to my bed.

I followed it, my mouth opening in horror, and found Jordan holding the plain white sheet close to his chest, a frown contorting his eyebrows, one bare leg hanging off the edge of the bed, his underwear plainly on the floor three feet away.

"Are they there? Eileen?" George stormed in after my mom, his composed gaze scanning the room methodically for damage or fire before he nodded. "I see. I, uh… Eileen?" He turned to my mom as if to invite her out of the room.

It's not what it looks like, I thought I shouted. My mouth worked, but the silence was all I managed to produce. What good would it have been if I spat out that blatant lie? It was exactly what it looked like. My stepbrother was naked in my bed, and the sheer horror on both our faces was enough to incriminate us, to condemn us.

"What is going on here?" Mom said, her voice dropping so low I could barely hear it over the pelting rain. Thunder rolled over the sky, nearly shaking the roof off the house.

"Not now, Eileen," George said in pure frustration. "Go downstairs, boys. Both of you."

Jordan produced a sound as if to protest leaving the bed and the last of his decency in it.

"How could you?" Mom spat. Me? But she wasn't looking at me. Her furious gaze turned to Jordan. "Don't you have any shame at all?"

"Eileen, for God's sake, let them go downstairs," George snapped angrily.

Mom spun to look at him, the hurt and disgust so visible on her face. "I will do whatever the hell I like!" Her hands closed into fists. Even wearing her white and pink pajamas, she was intimidating, seemingly ready to claw everyone's eyes out if we asked for it.

My heart was pounding so hard I could barely keep track of anything else that was happening.

"As well as you have," Mom said. "And as well as your son has." Her glare returned to Jordan, ignoring my presence altogether. "You promised me. You promised to look after him. How could you? He's just a boy, Jordan. Your stepbrother!"

Anger rose in me at hearing this. I opened my mouth again to fight her, but a flash of light shut me up, followed by thunder so loud that even if we had been speaking, it was inaudible.

"Enough!" George took control of the situation, pushing himself between Mom and us. "The power is out. The storm's getting worse. All of you, downstairs, now. Now!"

Mom pushed herself up against George, furiously staring up into his eyes much like I had done to Jordan so many times. But there was nothing other than resentment in their eyes. There was no love that had kept them together all these years. Things were far worse than we knew, I realized.

Mom marched away and I had to face George's serious look. He expressed no emotion at all. Was he so hurt and shocked that he couldn't even move his facial muscles? Mom was disgusted, that much I knew.

"Get dressed. Both of you." The cold words dropped out of his mouth into the dead silence of the room. "And come downstairs." He left the room with such a straight back that it looked like he could be supporting the entire house from falling down.

"Fuck," I whimpered as I shut the door after George.

Jordan jumped off the bed and grabbed his underwear. As he dressed quickly, I did the same, putting on my sweatpants and a T-shirt as quickly as I could, my fingers trembling, panting, and still feeling like I would suffocate.

"What are we going to do?" I whispered, shaking more, not less.

Jordan was dressed, his eyes dead and face expressionless. He was so much of his father in some ways. This was one of them. Steel strength and composure. But he didn't walk away so coldly from the room and me. Instead, he came to me and put his arms around me, pulling me in. "Don't worry, baby boy," he said in a deep rumble. "Us against the world. Remember?"

But did it also mean us against our parents? I didn't want those battle lines. I didn't want to be in that situation. It was all wrong. They were getting a divorce. That should have freed us to do whatever we liked. Right?

As if some of the strength and courage poured from Jordan into me, my shaking passed, and I simply savored this moment of stillness, being in his arms, feeling his calm. Even the thunder seemed to be moving further away from us now, though the old oak was split and down, and the power was out.

"They're waiting for us," Jordan said.

I nodded and we let go of one another. With my head held as high as I could, I walked out and descended the stairs until we found our parents in the living room. They were in the middle of an angry exchange, hissing and murmuring between one another.

George noticed us before Mom did. He fell silent and straightened his back, tucking his hands in his pockets. Mom stood on the other end of the living room, crossing her arms, her chin thrust out. My head moved down immediately as if I carried all the shame of the world painted on my face.

She was the cool one, right? She was the sort of mom who would matter-of-factly make a presentation about safe sex when I came out. Was this truly so bad?

Mom wasn't looking at me. She wasn't looking at anyone. Her gaze was distant, directed toward the empty space behind George. Her mouth was pinched into a small, angry dot, and her facial muscles were hard.

My stepfather looked at his feet, his face expressionless.

The wind blew hard outside, though the thunder was receding.

Dim, gray light was all that filled the living room, filtered through dark clouds, wet windows, and white drapes.

"Boys," George said in a tight voice. "I don't know where to begin…"

Jordan touched the small of my back. His fingertips gave me the courage I needed to keep standing. It felt like a trial. Somehow, I had managed to trick myself into not expecting them to be so horrified. Perhaps the hours I had shared with Jordan had been too good to let me believe anyone could object. And yet, these people were our parents. Years of expectations and attempts to turn us into something we were not couldn't be turned upside down without heartbreak.

My mother knew where to begin, though. She turned to us with a stone-cold expression on her face. "I don't imagine you can understand the depth of hurt you've caused," she said, her deep tone scarier than the thunder. "How could you understand? You have both shown the level of selfishness I hadn't believed you were capable of." A beat. Her emotions, few as they were, winked out. "You are family." The word was louder than all the others, driving in the point like it was a dagger put to my heart. I shuddered and Jordan pressed the small of my back harder. "You lived together. You ate together. You played games together as brothers. And all this time…?" As though she would sob, she stopped herself. "When did this start?"

"Eileen, I don't think…" George began.

She didn't look at him. "I wasn't talking to you." Her glare sparked with anger. "Jordan. When did this start?"

"Mom," I said, but she cut me off.

"To you, I can't even talk," she said, her voice trembling only once. "I can't look at you, Asher."

My lip quivered and my teeth chattered before I snapped my mouth shut.

Jordan moved his hand away from the small of my back and crossed his arms on his big chest. "I'm not answering that," he said darkly. "Not like this."

"Would you like me to ask nicely?" Mom spat venomously. "I found you in my child's bed after you promised to look after him. Have you been seducing him before that? Since when? Since you lived in my house? Since you moved in with me?"

"Eileen, enough," George snapped.

The casual disregard of years of happiness in that marriage that my mom displayed was enough to make even my heart shudder for George.

"He is only twenty, for the love of God," Mom cried, spinning to face her husband. "He was supposed to have a role model. A big brother to help him grow. Not…this. Not someone who would come into my home and seduce my boy."

"I wasn't seduced," I snapped.

When she looked at me at last, I realized her eyes were brimming with tears. "Of course, you would say that. But I don't trust your judgment, Asher. And I don't think you knew."

Frustration boiled in me.

Mom shook her head. If she believed Jordan had been preparing me for this for years, she was terribly mistaken. If anything, he had done all in his power to push me away. He had sacrificed his desires to protect me from this exact moment.

She didn't care about my explanations. She was convinced of Jordan's guilt and my gullibility that I couldn't dismantle that logic with words. "I treated you like my own child, Jordan. Did I not? I treated you no differently. I adopted you. I made you into his big brother. And this is how you repay me?"

"We're not children," I protested. "And we didn't grow up together, for fuck's sake."

"Hey," George said as if my language was the worst of our problems.

I pressed my lips into a tight line and inhaled slowly. "For all your attempts to force us into being a family, we never wanted that. I never asked for this. I never wanted a brother. And I never wanted anyone to look after me." What was the promise she was talking about? "You both know how much we avoided each other. You know how many fights we'd had since you two decided to make us what we were never meant to be. And what does it matter? Once you're divorced, we'll be no more related than two people who'd never met each other."

Mom pursed her lips. "Is that what you're waiting for? Our divorce? So you two can pretend like you weren't brought up together. Like you weren't exposed to him since you were thirteen. Like he didn't have a chance to impress you and lure you in."

"Enough!" George snapped. "Eileen, I won't stand here and listen to these accusations."

"Then don't," Mom said flatly. "Run to the other woman and cry."

My heart lurched. The other woman?

George's face darkened. "You are saying horrible things with no proof."

"I don't need proof," Mom said. "It all makes sense now. The strange behavior, the sneaking, the hours at the lake." The corners of her lips dragged down. "It was already happening when we spoke," she told Jordan. It wasn't a question. "You looked into my eyes and lied. When I asked you why Asher was acting strange, you lied, telling me there was nothing strange. What were you doing, Jordan?"

Tension was radiating from Jordan's posture. When I looked at him, there were veins showing in his neck. Before he could say anything — if he was going to speak at all — George stepped closer to Mom. "They're right, Eileen. It's not like we're reconsidering this. A month from now, they won't be related even on paper."

"I don't care what the papers say," Mom seethed. "They were raised as brothers; all the while, one was luring the other. What else did you make Asher do, Jordan? Did you put Northwood into his head, too?"

He had, but not the way she thought. "I can't listen to this anymore. I'm not a little boy anymore, Mom. I made this choice." My voice cracked. I was so near breaking that I had to stop myself from speaking. I wouldn't show such weakness.

"We both made this choice," Jordan said. "This summer. Now. We chose to be together." He lifted his head a little. "And nothing anyone says will change that."

Mom stiffened and straightened her back. "Seeing you in my son's bed and seeing you with your stepbrother will always make me shudder. I am disgusted, Asher. I can't hide it. And I can't change anything. But I don't have to look at it, either."

Mom turned away from us, not sparing another look at me, and walked away. George was rubbing his forehead, and Jordan stood still, completely motionless as if he was made of stone.

I wanted to break free and run from this. My mother…

My mother couldn't stomach me, couldn't look at me, couldn't see me without the hurt and betrayal on her face. She couldn't be in the same room as me. And she refused to understand.

I wasn't sure where George stood on it all. He wanted to protect Jordan, of course, but he might be as disgusted as Mom, only smart enough not to show it now.

Slowly, I turned on my heels, and nobody stopped me. I walked away from them, climbing the stairs. My back was stiff and straight, my pace was steady, and my breath was held in my lungs until I was in my room. When I exhaled, it was a shudder that rocked me almost off my feet.

I shut the door and turned the key to lock myself inside.

Her last words were ringing through my head and I couldn't even start recognizing the emotions that swirled through me. In the eye of the storm, there was nothing. It was hollow and peaceful in there.

In the deepest corners of my soul, I found stillness. Something in me was dead now and it was the best place to protect myself from the way I had wrecked all our lives.

Even Jordan…

I left him alone downstairs to face his father. I couldn't stand to be there anymore. I couldn't let myself cry in front of them over the hurtful things she had said. The things I deserved to be told. But worse than that, she had put the blame on Jordan. And what had I done? I stood in stunned silence until she was finished.

A coward and a degenerate. An unlovable, disgusting monster with sexual appetites that cared nothing about family.

Oh, my heart…

I buried my face in the pillow, wishing, for just a moment, that I could remain still there and let the endless sleep carry me away. But I couldn't. My body protested that fluttering thought, and I lifted my head, inhaling deeply before tears surged into my eyes.