Page 25 of From the Ashes (Redwood Bay Fire #2)

CHAPTER 25

Colt

SIX WEEKS LATER

“Coming!” I shout as I hobble as fast as I can to my front door. “Just a sec!”

When I open it, Zahir is waiting on the other side, smiling and looking as ridiculously handsome as ever. “You didn’t have to rush,” he says, shaking his head as he leans in to kiss me. “In fact, as a medical professional, I stringently advise against it.”

I grin against his lips and kiss him some more. “I was excited to see you,” I say in my defense. “And—look!” I point to my leg as he steps inside.

He raises his eyebrows. “The boot is gone!” he says happily.

“Well, not gone,” I admit, shutting the door behind us. “But it’s in a closet rather than on my foot full time now, yes. And the knee brace will probably stick around for at least four months,” I add with a sigh. “Who knows when I’ll be able to surf again.” I’m grateful that both my head injuries turned out to be minor, but the broken tibia has been a bit annoying.

Still, when I think of how much worse it could have been, things don’t seem so bad.

“Hey,” Zahir says kindly, ensnaring my fingers with his and pulling me in for a hug. “You’ll get there. You said PT was going well, right?” I nod. “So just be patient. It’s more important you heal the right way now so you don’t have complications down the line.”

I gasp in fake shock. “Wow, you almost sound like a medical professional.”

He rolls his eyes at me. “I do get that you hate being cooped up,” he says sympathetically as he rubs my arm. “So much has changed recently, yet you’ve spent most of it in this place.”

“At least this place is looking good, right?” I say as we wander slowly toward the kitchen area so I can pour us some iced tea.

He grins and squeezes my hand. “It really is,” he agrees.

Not only do I have his beautiful tryptic paintings hanging on the wall now, but the large piece from our senior year is the main focus of the living room. At a glance, it doesn’t look like us making love on the beach, and after so long hiding my true self away, it gives me a thrill to have it out in the open when people visit.

Because people do visit, especially while I’ve been recovering. So I got brand new forest-green sofas for them to sit on. There’s color in my apartment now. I have lampshades and art and trinkets all over the damn place that speak to who I am and bring me joy. There’s also a rug on the floor and bowls of potpourri on the windowsills.

Who even am I?

Of course, Zahir has been here the most, but a couple of times he’s brought Yara or a few of the other guys from the One-Thirteen. It’s crazy to me that they’ve just accepted me as Zahir’s boyfriend after everything that happened in our past, but they have. And now I’m apparently part of the One-Thirteen family, which makes it sound like a cult you can’t escape from, except I love it.

I love them.

Even Farah has forgiven me, it seems, because she’s been over here at least once a week, filling up my refrigerator with home-cooked meals I either just need to put in the oven or the microwave. She calls me her bad boy and pinches my cheek and tells me that having a broken leg is no excuse for socks all over the floor.

I think I enjoy when she gets cross with me the most. Because it means she really cares.

My own family…I’m not so sure what’s going on there. My parents have visited exactly one time since the earthquake, and even though they said nothing, it was clear they were embarrassed by my ‘tacky’ new décor. That just validates my choices, if I’m honest.

My mom is still tearful and dancing around the issue of my sexuality. My father is furious I really went through with handing my notice in at the firm. I can see they’re trying to find a way to still connect with me, though, so I’m willing to keep the door open for them.

At least for the time being.

I’ve been mostly working through my notice period remotely, which suits me just fine. My father might hate it, but I think he has forced himself to acknowledge that I’ve been phoning it in since I arrived, and he’ll be much better off appointing a managing partner that actually wants the position. It’s pretty obvious to me that Preston Windward would be a perfect fit.

A few more weeks of handover work, and I’ll be free. To do what…I’m not sure. But I can figure that out once I’ve got two fully functioning legs again.

Speaking of the only friend I made at Ross & Associates, Preston has also been a regular visitor. His version of feeding me is chips and dip, but he brings his boxer, Jack, with him who likes to put his big head in my lap and lovingly stare at me, as if that will make me heal faster.

I actually think there’s some science to that, if I’m honest.

Portia has genuinely become a good friend, too, and has kept me company on several evenings when Zahir’s been working. I’m ashamed to say she’s got me hooked on some truly terrible reality TV shows.

And then there’s Elizabeth and the kids, who came over with little Rebecca and all three of her parents for a playdate last week. That was kind of intense, but weirdly in a really fun way. I thought having children in my home would be an awful experience, but they weren’t the hellions I was envisioning they’d be. They played a board game on the floor while the adults talked for an hour, and the older girls were fascinated when I showed them my miniature Zen garden and how to use the little rake to make patterns in the sand.

I bought that as a present to myself so I’d never forget the day I dared to come out to my parents. The day I said out loud that I love Zahir and was his boyfriend. Yeah, it’s also the day I almost died, but nothing’s ever perfect, and you can’t have the light without the dark.

My other reminder of that day is a little bigger, but I needed more feature pieces in this bland, empty apartment anyway.

In the aftermath of the earthquake, the owners of the Jiyū Sushi Bar cared way more about rebuilding the restaurant than they did about me keeping the two koi carp I rescued. In fact, they were concerned with how they were going to care for the ones in the tanks that didn’t break, so having two less was a small relief for them.

Eventually, my plan is to move somewhere with a pond in the back yard. But for now, my girls Umi (sea) and Sora (sky) have a bigger tank than before, with all kinds of plants and miniature Japanese buildings to hide and play in. I’ve never had a pet before in my life, but with everything that’s been happening over the past few weeks, I’ve genuinely enjoyed and appreciated having a couple of living creatures depending on me to get out of bed and care for them, especially on some of the tougher mental health days.

I know what Zahir’s trying to say about being patient. I’ve thrown myself into this recovery and am determined to do everything I can to heal the right way. But it’s difficult for me not to feel like I’ve wasted half my life already, and now I’ve finally made some huge, significant changes, I’m impatient to get going. Being cooped up in this apartment hasn’t been the best.

That’s why I’m not waiting anymore. There’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while now, and even though I’m extremely nervous, I’m going to make it happen today.

Finally.

“I have a surprise for you,” I say, trying to slow my heart rate down a little.

Zahir pauses then raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

Damn, this is going to be harder than I thought. Not trusting myself to speak, I put down my empty iced tea glass on the counter and pluck his from his fingers to do the same. Then I slip my hand against his and tug it so he starts following me back through the apartment toward the bedroom.

Anyone else would probably make a joke in that moment about how now I’ve gotten my foot out of the moon boot I’m ready to get my freak on (which isn’t entirely untrue). But because it’s Zahir, he just quietly follows me, probably picking up that this is an important moment. I push open my bedroom door, but step back a little to let him enter first.

The decision to focus updating my apartment’s décor in the living room area was a conscious one. I hadn’t done anything with my bedroom.

Until now.

Since the last time Zahir came over, I’ve swapped the dark gray bed covers for light blue and changed the blinds from black to white. There’s now a wooden slatted headboard where before I didn’t have one. I even got some decorative white throw pillows and a linen runner thing that serves no purpose other than to make the bed look a bit fancy.

In front of the blinds, I’ve also now hung a floor length gauzy white curtain, and the same material has been pinned in strips above the bed, giving an effect like waves rolling onto the shore. It’s still light out, so we can’t really appreciate the effect right now, but there are fairy lights hanging among the gauze as well that will twinkle in the darkness.

I’ll admit that I wasn’t able to do any of this manual labor over the past few days. However, Portia and Preston were very good at bringing my vision to life. I was able to add touches like the jar of seashells on the dresser, the new wicker laundry basket, and the paperweight on top of the pile of books on my nightstand that looks like thick chain links from an anchor.

Portia hung a floating shelf for me specifically so I could display some framed photos of me and Zahir. We only have a couple of selfies so far, but I plan on adding a lot more. The important thing for me is that I declare to anyone who visits that we’re a couple. I want pictures of us in every room of wherever I live, whether that’s this rented place or the house we’re undoubtedly going to buy together in the near future.

Ideally, I want all the art in my home to be Zahir’s. But I just couldn’t resist getting a print of the famous Great Wave off Kanagawa by Japanese artist Katsushika Hokusai. We used to talk endlessly about going on an adventure around the world with our surfboards when we were teens. But ever since our lives were changed in just one day surrounded by Japanese culture, I’ve felt Asia calling me. Like destiny stepped in and told me that my life could be so much more than it had been so far, and that life could really be with Zahir.

Japan has a thriving surfing scene, you see.

“Colt,” Zahir says, looking around the room.

“The plants are from your teta,” I explain. Farah truly spoiled me, insisting I take over half a dozen pots filled with beautifully variegated leaves and colorful flowers.

“And the rest?” he asks, probably referring to the twenty or so candles in hurricane jars I placed around the room and all the cherry blossom petals strewn over the freshly made bed. Or maybe the sea breeze incense I’ve got burning and the peaceful ocean sounds quietly playing through my Bluetooth speaker.

I can’t stop the smile spreading onto my face as I move around in front of him. Now it’s happening, the nerves are melting away. I squeeze his hands in mine, then take a deep breath before my next words.

“The more permanent changes are because I’m done being hard and masculine all the time. I can be soft and feminine too if I want. This is my sanctuary, and I wanted it to reflect my soul. My soul is where the sun meets the sea. It’s with you, Zahir. The less permanent additions are because I thought about taking you down to the beach to do this. But as much as I’m done hiding away, I do think some things should be private, so I brought the beach home.” I grimace and move to sit on the edge of the bed. “Sorry about this next part, but I’ve only got one knee functioning at full capacity right now.”

His warm brown eyes go wide as I manage to get my hand in my pants pocket and pull out the ring box that’s been burning a hole there ever since he arrived.

“I know I did this once before,” I say thickly. My eyes are already burning as I open the box to reveal the gold band with several raw sapphires ensconced at the front. The rough, uneven finish on the polished metal makes me feel like it’s something a mermaid found at the bottom of the ocean just so I could give it to my man in this moment. “But I have a feeling you didn’t believe I was serious?”

Zahir’s eyes are also brimming with tears as he cradles his hands under mine, staring at the ring. “I told you if you asked me properly, you’d find out if I’d say yes,” he whispers.

I’ve wasted enough time when it comes to Zahir Delacroix. So I don’t hesitate now.

“I’ve loved you my whole life, Zee,” I tell him truthfully. “I want to spend the rest of it by your side. You make me the man I know I was always supposed to be, and I’ll spend the rest of my days lifting you up to your highest heights so you can be your very best, too. Will you marry me?”

He places his hand on his chest as the tears splash down his cheeks. “Are you sure?” he utters. “We don’t have to rush this.”

“I damn well do,” I tell him with a frown. “I should have done this years ago. Unless you don’t want to?” Suddenly the nerves are back. “In that case?—”

“YES!” he cries, then laughs at his own outburst. He grabs the box from my hands, plucks the ring from it and tosses the box aside before slipping the band over his finger. “There,” he says shakily with a grin. “You can’t take it back now.”

I grin and throw my arms around his waist, dragging him onto the bed and peppering his face with kisses. “I would never take it back,” I assure him. “The contract is binding. I belong to you now, and that’s a fact.”

He pauses as we lay side by side to stare at his hand. “It’s beautiful,” he marvels.

“You’re beautiful,” I remind him, then caress it with my fingertips. “Gold and blue for the sunshine and the ocean,” I explain.

He exhales and shakes his head. “I think a part of me was always waiting for you to come back to me. I’m so happy you did, Colt.”

“Me, too,” I tell him truthfully. “Make love to me, please?”

“I was already planning on it,” he says, smirking as he rolls me on my back. Because of my broken leg, he’s been riding me the last few weeks, and it’s been amazing.

But that’s not what I meant.

“No, baby,” I say softly. “I want you to make love to me.” He crooks an eyebrow in confusion, and I chuckle wryly. “I want to bottom.”

Unsurprisingly, he pauses. “You haven’t done that since you came back…”

“I haven’t done that with anyone,” I clarify. “Not since the last night I was with you in Redwood Bay. No one ever, Zee. Just you. I want that now. I’m ready. And I mean that literally.” I waggle my eyebrows and laugh until he catches my drift.

“Oh… oh!”

He blushes. I love it.

I lean up to kiss his mouth and slip my hands under his shirt. “I have to be careful sill, but can we do it like this? Face to face with you on top?”

That seems to wake his brain up again. He starts kissing me back with the fiery passion I love so much from him, his hands threading through my hair. I feel his new ring against my scalp, and it sends shivers down my spine.

“Of course,” he says, repositioning himself to take more of his weight on his knees as he straddles my hips. “Anything you want, Colt. I want to make you feel so good.”

“You always do,” I assure him.

Normally, it’s my pleasure to take care of us both in the bedroom. But my banged-up leg has made that tricky of late. It’s actually kind of nice to be a bit of a pillow princess for a change. I can’t see myself doing it all the time. But letting Zahir undress us both helps me get into a more submissive mind frame.

I want to mark this occasion by giving myself over to him completely. It’s important to me that I show with my actions how much I trust him with my body and soul—that I trust him with our forever.

I’m at least able to grab us the lube from my nightstand. It was such a relief to ditch the condoms a while back, but now’s my first time experiencing that from the other end of things.

The nerves come back a little, but only because I want this to be amazing for both of us. The danger with missing fifteen years of casual interactions together is that I’m aware I’m overcompensating sometimes by hyper fixating on our experiences now being perfect.

Although there is something I’ve realized recently that’s put so many things into perspective. Yes, I’m ashamed for how I acted at eighteen and wish I hadn’t caused Zahir so much pain. But on the other hand…would we really have survived together all this time if I hadn’t gone away and understood just how much I don’t want the life my parents mapped out for me? The break-up was awful for both of us. However, there’s a part of me now that wonders if that time apart wasn’t necessary—essential even—for making us the men we are today.

The men that both of us are going to spend the rest of our lives with.

Zahir’s on top on me, our warm stomachs rubbing together as he kisses me through his smiles. “Are you really all mine?” he asks.

I take his hand and place it over the fully healed tattoo on my hip. “Forever, baby.”

He shuffles down and kisses the spot sweetly. Then he moves his mouth over to my leaking cock, and suddenly the vibe is more sinful than sweet.

“Oh, baby, oh,” I utter, threading my fingers through his silky hair. He hums and looks up at me through his dark lashes, knowing exactly how much he’s turning me on.

Despite me telling him I’d already stretched myself, he still pops off my length, then kisses down, nuzzling and sucking my balls, licking my taint, before pulling my cheeks apart and feasting on my hole. I groan and pant, lifting my knees up as much as it’s comfortable to do so with the brace on.

In that moment, my recently broken tibia doesn’t seem to be an issue one way or another.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I grunt.

I haven’t been rimmed in…well…fifteen years. I never trusted anyone else down there. But Zahir doesn’t hesitate to pleasure me, probing his tongue and fingers inside where I already worked myself before he arrived. The last thing I wanted was to hold us up because my body might fight us.

I should have known it wouldn’t do anything else but welcome Zahir back with open arms.

“Please,” I whimper, pawing at his shoulders and tugging at his hair. “Please, baby. I’m ready. I need you now, so badly.”

Mercifully, he immediately listens to me, pulling back and finding the lube to drizzle over his hard length and into my crack. I don’t need this to last all night. We have the rest of our lives together. But I do I need him now and I need him hard.

That’s why he’s my person, my soul. He knows exactly what I’m craving, and he gives it to me. Within moments, he’s thrusting deep inside me, nailing my prostate the perfect way to make me scream and lose my mind. The intrusion is almost too much for my body. I’m so full, so overwhelmed. But I know it’s Zahir and I can trust him with my heart, body, and soul, so I let go, allowing him to drive us toward our bliss.

“Colt,” he mutters between kisses. He’s being careful of my leg, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t digging his fingers into my ribs and biting my lower lip.

“Yes, yes, yes!” I chant. “Are you close? I need…I’m going to…”

He wraps his hand over my cock and tugs. I wail, knowing it’s not going to take much.

“I want to see you come, beautiful,” he murmurs in my ear.

How can I refuse?

My knee brace reminds me not to dig my heels into the mattress, but I still arch my spine as my climax crashes through me like a great wave. I cling to Zahir, loving how he bellows with his head dropped back, shooting his load inside me like he wants to mark me and claim me.

Like he wants to breed me.

After we’ve collapsed into a heap of sweaty, tangled limbs, he eventually pulls out of me and stumbles to the en suite to fetch us a warm, damp cloth to clean up with. Again, that’s usually my job, but since my injury I’ve accepted that it’s quite nice when Zahir does this job, and today in particular I bask in the role reversal. There are cherry blossom petals stuck all over me and despite my best efforts, my shin is aching like a bitch.

The moment couldn’t be more perfect.

Once the essentials have been mopped up, I pull my fiancé back down with me on top of the duvet and kiss his forehead. It’s funny that the breeding image isn’t shaking from my mind. I don’t think I’ve uncovered a new kink. Rather, it’s jostled up something I’ve been pondering for a while now.

“Zahir,” I say seriously as I stroke his back. He hums to show he’s listening. “Before we get married, there are a couple of things we might want to check.”

He lifts his head and smiles sleepily at me. “You want to negotiate the contract?” he teases.

I shrug, but he’s not wrong. “I was hoping we could move in together. Whatever I end up doing, my salary will probably take a big hit. But I still have an insane amount of savings for a deposit.”

He nuzzles our noses together. “I don’t need a big house,” he says. “We will probably need a pond for the fish, though. And maybe space for a dog?”

I smile. “I was pondering that, too. But, um, the house. How many bedrooms?”

My heart is racing again as I watch his reaction. Initially, he just looks curiously. “Well, one for us and one for guests, I suppose?”

“What about more bedrooms for not-guests?” I ask, my mouth dry. “What if I was thinking about…kids?”

In all the years I’ve known Zahir Delacroix, I don’t reckon I’ve ever seen his eyes go so wide, not even just now when I proposed. “I didn’t think you wanted children,” he whispers.

I take a deep breath and cup the side of his face. “I didn’t. To me, kids were a burden, or things you created to manipulate. But I feel differently now. I think…I think we’d be amazing dads. But I keep going and over it, and I don’t care about bloodlines or whatever. In fact, ego’s the thing I hate most about the whole idea. If you’re open to it, I’d want to adopt. There are so many kids who aren’t loved enough, and I just know we could give that to them. I’m not talking right now, obviously, but…someday. That’s where I see us down the line. I just thought I’d check that fit with you.”

For several moments, he simply stares at me as his eyes fill with tears. Eventually, he sobs as his face splits into a beaming smile, then he gathers me up in the tightest hug imaginable.

“That would be the greatest honor of my life, Habibi.”

I’m not ashamed to say that special little word makes me lose it. I cling to him and laugh and cry until I feel sick.

Zahir Delacroix is going to be my husband. He wants to have children with me. And for the first time in our long history together, he dared to call me his habibi, his darling.

Nothing in my life has turned out the way it was planned.

And yet it’s absolutely perfect.