Page 45 of Blaze & Ajax

“I think it’s time I was introduced to them. I want to understand you, Aiden.”

He shook his head rapidly, as if he could shake out the thoughts from his head. “You’ll hate me even more than you already do. You’ll be disgusted.”

I turned him to face me. “That’s the thing. I don’t hate you anymore. And you fully trust me with your body. I think it’s time you trusted me with who you are and your fears.”

He tried to look away, but I wouldn’t let him, holding onto his chin as I loved to do because he always responded so well to it. He always held still for me when I did.

“I like what we’re doing, and I don’t want this to end,” he admitted.

“Who says it’s going to end?”

“You will.”

I let his face go and trailed my fingers along his throat and chest, tracing all his tattoos. None had color. They were all contour lines, but they were tasteful. Each one looked like they belonged on his smooth and pale skin. My index finger trailed along the large rose inked on his throat.

“Trust me,” I said.

His black eyes, looking up at me, were filled with worry and pain. “I’m afraid.”

That had to be a painful admission for Blaze to tell someone like me. All the more reason he could trust me. Nothing he could’ve done would sway me… unless he was some murderer, which I was certain he wasn’t. My friends and I all had our issues and brushes with immorality. We weren’t fucking saints, but weweregood people—even Blaze. That goodness was in there and showed more each time we were together.

“The fact you just said that is enough to prove you trust me.”

“I need a smoke for this. Or some hard fucking liquor.”

I handed him my pack of cigarettes and lighter. He lit up and blew smoke upward into the sky. “Cueball knows a little, but he doesn’t know everything. The only one who knows all of it is Storm, my old friend from high school, but we don’t talk about it.”

I read between the lines. He was going to tell me, and onlyIwould learn the full extent of his story. It made me feel a bit honored, but his fear rubbed offon me, and I worried it would affect our dynamic. Regardless, I would do my best to empathize and keep an open mind.

Blaze sat on the edge of the barrier, and I sat next to him to give him some space.

“I grew up wealthy. Well, not me, but my mom and her family. I’m not talking upper middle class. I’m talking about growing up in a house with eight bedrooms and six bathrooms. We had people who cooked, served… They waited on us, hand and foot. I even had a nanny. I went to private school… shit like that.”

Holy fuck. I didnotsee that coming.

“My nanny practically raised me, but it was my mom that I needed. I saw my dad about three times in my youth after they divorced when I was around four. He’s never really been in the picture.”

How’d he end up here with barely a dime to himself?

“Of course you needed your mom. All kids do.”

He nodded, staring at his feet, his long bangs falling in his face that I itched to brush away. Blaze took another drag from his smoke before continuing.

“As I got older, I started acting out. Maybe I did when I was younger, but I don’t remember. I could’ve been a hellion of a toddler, for all I know, not that my mom ever told me stories about my childhood.”

I smiled at that. He probably was a hellion.

“Mom was always doing shit and rarely at home, whether it was away for some long weekend with her friends in the Caribbean or wine tasting in Tuscany.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with his ringed fingers. “Even then, I understood how much I needed guidance and affection. My nanny was okay, but even she got tired of me acting out. I screamed for attention, but no one could hear me. I was just in my mom’s fucking way.”

It wasn’t hard to empathize with Blaze. Just because you grew up with wealth didn’t mean you had all your needs met. Humans needed love and compassion, not cash and dismissal.

When he tossed his smoke over the side of the building, I took his hand and led him to the blanket. I sat down and pulled him onto my lap, resting my chin on his shoulder. He needed to know he deserved some affection.

“What about your grandparents?”

Blaze shrugged. “They live in California. I’d hardly ever seen them. Anyway, Mom eventually married when I was fifteen. His name was Howard Decker.”

“He sounds like a pussy.”

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