Page 81 of Pretty Poison
As they neared the end of his session, Rocky still hadn’t broached the shooting in Vegas. Maybe he’d work up his courage at their next session.
“See you next week, Karen.”
“Looking forward to it, Rocky.”
When he got to his car, Rocky checked his phone for messages and saw he had one from Asher. The text was short with only two words, but they happened to be two of Rocky’s favorites.Irish stew.
On my way,he replied, then aimed his car toward home.
When he turned on to his street, Rocky expected to see Lady Luck parked in his driveway but instead found a shiny, gold Mazda Miata convertible in her place. Rocky laughed so hard he nearly sideswiped the car when he pulled up beside it. He was still laughing when he let himself into the house.
“Wow, someone is having a really good time at your expense,” Rocky said after kissing Asher hello. “That car is hideous, and it’s not big enough for your dick to fit in it, let alone the rest of your body.”
Asher shrugged, then continued stirring the pot. “To each their own.”
Rocky sniffed the air appreciatively. “Damn, dinner smells good.”
“Thanks. The bread will be done in a few minutes, then we can eat.”
“So, who owned that glittery gold Miata before the marshals confiscated it?” Rocky asked.
Asher chuckled. “The mistress of an investment capitalist who started a Ponzi scheme. Boy, was she pissed when we arrived to take it away. She tried to claw Dandridge’s eyes out. Poor fella.”
“I hope it wasn’t my cousin.”
Asher released the spoon and turned his full attention on Rocky. “I forget about your ties to some of Atlanta’s wealthiest people through your mom.”
“I think most of them would like to forget about it too.”
His maternal grandparents had been less than thrilled when their only daughter ran off with the contractor they’d hired to remodel their home. Their resentment only grew stronger when she died a few years later after giving birth to Rocky. His relationship with the Duttons was tumultuous at best, and he only tugged on those familial strings when he needed a favor, such as gaining entrance into an exclusive nightclub to spy on a mob boss with his best friend.
“How was therapy?” Asher asked.
“Good,” Rocky said, stepping into his husband’s embrace.
Being in Asher’s arms and having his scent all around him brought Rocky so much happiness and peace. It also reminded him of Karen’s cautionary remark about the dangers and allure of codependency. Rocky understood at that moment what she meant. He didn’t need or want Asher to be his crutch or his cure. It could breed resentment, a poison that would erode their relationship. Asher’s embrace would start to feel suffocating instead of comforting.
“Ford,” Asher said, rubbing his hands up and down Rocky’s back. “You stiffened suddenly. Is it okay if I ask?”
Asher dropped his hands and tried to take a step away, but Rocky tightened his arms around his husband’s waist.Just another second.Asher chuckled, then resumed rubbing Rocky’s back.
“Of course you can ask,” Rocky said. “There’s no need to tiptoe around it. That’s kind of how we got into this mess in the first place.”
Asher was the one who stiffened this time, and Rocky was the one who regretted his remark. No. They had to stop dancing around this. The timer on the stove went off, so Asher dropped a kiss on top of Rocky’s head before lowering his arms and pulling away.
“Um, do you think dinner could wait for a bit?” Rocky almost changed his mind when Asher pulled out the loaf of soda bread. Nothing was better than freshly baked carbs. He didn’t want to ruin Asher’s lovely dinner, but if they didn’t air this out now, they’d just bury their troubles under another layer of sand and silt. This felt like a now-or-never moment.
Asher set the bread on top of the stove, dropped the mitts on the countertop, then turned off the oven. Worry lines furrowed Asher’s brow when he faced Rocky again.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said, smoothing his fingers over his husband’s forehead. It fucking had to be. Rocky led Asher over to the small table tucked into the corner of the room. Their knees bumped together when they sat down, but Rocky liked the connection. Taking Asher’s hands in his, he said, “Did you get passed over for a promotion in Vegas because of me?”
The confusion on Asher’s face should’ve been comical, cartoonish even, but it was the equivalent of setting a match to a fuse in Rocky’s soul. Duggins had played him like a fucking violin, and Rocky had let it happen.
“No. I turned down a promotion because it came with a transfer to DC. Why would you think—” Asher pulled his hands free and crossed his arms over his chest. Rocky couldn’t be sure if he was bracing himself for combat or trying to shield his heart. “Did Duggins feed you that line of bullshit?”
Rocky took a steady breath to calm his nerves and control his temper. Asher wasn’t his enemy; he was an innocent victim in all of this.So were you, goddamn it.“Yes.”
“And you believed his lies?” Asher’s voice shook with rage.