Page 67 of Creatures Like Us

“How about your parents?”

“My parents?” He rolls his eyes. “They were always working. Sometimes, I went days without seeing them, especially Dad.” He looks down at his hands, mouth tensing into a thin line.

I grab his phone from the kitchen counter and slide it over to him. “Here.”

He frowns down at it. “Why would I want my phone?”

“If you want to call someone, maybe.”

As soon as I say it, I regret I even alerted him about the phone, and I regret I even asked about his parents. At the same time, I don’t want to make him feel like he’s stuck here.

If he feels like he’s my prisoner again, he’ll want to leave, but if I’m supportive about his family, maybe he’ll want to stay with me for longer?…?Besides that, I’m curious. I want to know everything about him.

“I don’t have anyone to call.” He pushes the phone away, sliding it forcefully over the kitchen island.

I catch it before it careens over the edge, and I plug it in to keep the battery charged in case he changes his mind.

“How about your brother?”

Asher cuts his gaze up to me. “What about him?”

“Maybe he’d be glad to hear from you.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do,” he mutters. “You don’t know what he’s like.”

I raise a brow, and Asher rolls his eyes.

“Right, yeah, I guess youdoknow him. I only meant?…?You don’t know what he’s like with me.”

“Then tell me.”

He fiddles with his hands, a sullen pout on his lips. “Well, last time I saw him, he basically told me he hated me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I still don’t know what I?…?what I did wrong.” His shoulders slump miserably, and I want to go to him and hug him and soothe that nerve I struck, but what if he pushes me away?

“Don’t you want to ask him about it?”

“I don’t think?…” Asher inhales a sharp breath, a pained expression on his face. “I just don’t want to.”

“You could just talk to him, without asking him.”

“What would I even say? ‘Hey, bro, I got kidnapped by a weird loner who chained me to his basement, and now I’m showing him the wonders of sex so he won’t try to kill himself again’?”

The words are like needles of ice into my heart, but I don’t let the feelings show. Not on my face and not in the dullness of my voice. “Is that why?”

Asher flashes a crooked smile. “No. Your ass is pretty tight too.”

Sometimes I don’t know if he’s mocking me or if he’s just sarcastic. Either way, I don’t feel good about these things he’s telling me. Us having sex—us making love—is far more than that. So much more.

I slide my hand over the kitchen island. “Ash?…”

He rips his hand away. “What, Noah? What do you want from me?”