Page 29 of Pretty Poison

Instead of arguing, Rocky moved over to make room. He should send Asher away, but he wouldn’t. Not tonight.

Asher lifted the top sheet and slid in beside him. “Still having those awful dreams?”

“Sometimes.”

“Ford,” Asher said gruffly.

“Yeah. It’s not always the same one, though. It depends on the trigger.”

“Am I the trigger tonight?” Asher whispered into the darkness.

“God no,” Rocky said, scooting closer to his heat. “Never you.” Asher released a shaky breath, and Rocky moved closer still. “I think it was Cal’s lawnmower. The damn thing sounds like a gunshot.”

“Someone should fix it for him.”

“Or maybe I need to fix the parts of me that are broken,” Rocky said, stopping when he was a few inches away from Asher’s strong body.

“You’re not broken, Ford. The fucking world is.”

“I’m trying to get better, you know.”

Rocky heard Asher’s pillow rustle and felt his husband’s intensity aimed in his direction. He turned his head and met Asher’s stare in the darkness. “I started seeing a therapist.”

He waited for an “I told you so” because Asher had recommended Rocky seek help when the nightmares first started. “That’s good,” Asher said, sounding relieved instead of smug. “That’s real good, Ford.”

“I’m tired of running from that night. I’m tired of feeling broken. I’m tired of the nightmares. I’m just so fucking tired.”

Asher rolled to his side and placed his hand on Rocky’s chest. “Go to sleep, baby.”

The endearment should’ve annoyed Rocky, but he held it close to his battered heart. “I can’t.”

“Why?” Asher’s warm breath ghosted over Rocky’s cheek. He was so close, yet so far away.

“You know why, Asher.”

“Do you want me to do it?”

Rocky sighed. “Yes.”

Asher chuckled, then lifted his leg and draped his big thigh over Rocky’s pelvis. The weight was enough to bring tears to Rocky’s eyes. He rested his hand on Asher’s outer thigh, the springy hairs tickling his palms. Fuck, he’d missed any part of Asher pinning him to the bed.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice sounding thick and raw from the emotions battering his heart.

“Go to sleep, baby.”

And he did.

Rocky was on fire. It was the only explanation for the insufferable heat radiating throughout his body. Was it a fever? Had he died and gone to hell in his sleep? Would the devil rise from the fiery pits and taunt Rocky with reminders of all the lives he’d help destroy? Those poor kids.

“Ford.”

Oh fuck. Satan hadn’t shown himself yet, but he sounded an awful lot like his husband. Was that part of his punishment? Would Lucifer look like Asher too?

“Ford, your cell phone is ringing.”

“They allow them in hell?” Rocky asked.

Satan chuckled. “Wake up, baby.”