Page 111 of From the Ashes
Reaching into the drawer, I see the exact moment his fingers graze the paper taped to the bottle. Pulling them both out, his chest heaves as he sees his own handwriting on the note in his fist.
I climb up his body, straddling his thighs,almostgetting distracted when his teeth sink into that perfect, plush, bottom lip of his. But then hiseyes find mine.
“You kept this?” His voice is a whisper as he carefully removes the fragment of the magazine page he wrote his confession on almost nine years ago now.
I nod. “Of course, I kept it. I needed something to remind me that night actually happened since you wouldn’t let me keepyou. When I woke up in the hospital and hadn’t heard from you, I knew it was really over, but if all I could keep from that night were your handwritten words, so be it. I’d planned to keep them forever.”
Walker licks his lips as pain flashes across his features and he avoids my gaze.
“I didn’t want to walk away from you, you know. I was trying to protect you…not hurt you.”
“There’s only one way you can hurt me now and ironically, it’s by doing the same thing you did back then. But this time, I’m really hoping you’ll stick around.” I nod toward the paper. “Flip it over.”
Walker’s eyes close, and he doesn’t even try to stop the tears flowing down his cheeks. Laying the bottle down on the bed, hegrabs me and pulls me to him, his lips, and tongue, and hands everywhere.
I must admit, the most brilliant part of my plan was getting us nakedfirst.
When he finally pulls back to look at me, his eyes convey far more than ayes.
“The night you approached me, I was knocking on death’s door, thinking I was too far gone. Already buried six-feet under my guilt and shame. But you poured yourself into me that night,” a small smile makes his lips quirk, “figurativelyandliterally. You saved my life, Phoenix. I could have burned in the fires of self-loathing only to end up in the pits of hell, but instead, I rose from the ashes thanks to you.”
Tracing the tattoo of the phoenix on his side, I nervously ask, “So…is that a yes?”
His smile is devastating.
“Yeah, Phoe. It’s a yes.”
And just like that, I’m rising right along with him.
Walker DeVille.
My competition.
My lover.
My rival.
My future.
Epilogue
Walker
“God, it feels good to be home for a few days,” I tell no one in particular on the back of Knox’s boat. Jackson and I are racing toward the end of the season within ten points of each other, and I’ve really enjoyed the competition. He’s a good winner and a good loser, and if I come in second to him, it’ll have been a hard-earned victory for him. One I can fully support.
“It’s been weird without you guys,” Dylan muses, climbing down the ladder to get in the lake. “Ay dios mío, this feels like bathwater!”
“Yeah, keeping Knox from offing himself has become a full-time job,” Hudson muses, completely unaware that there was a time not so long ago that I almost suffered the same fate. I feel Phoenix’s wide eyes on me and turn to see him panicking over how I’ll react to the errant comment.
I flash him a wink from the boat, letting him know I’m okay, before stripping my tank top off and diving into the water.
I don’t get upset about comments like that. I know Hudson has had his own dark days and I’m truly glad that he’s carefreeenough now to make the joke lightly, even if it is a bit insensitive to whatever Knox is going through.
I think about the conversation Knox and I had on the front porch after Phoe and I’scoming out/I told my son I’m his dadparty, and I feel like shit. Being on the road is all consuming, especially now that I get to travel with Phoenix. Admittedly, we’ve done a terrible job of checking in on Knox.
The man in question is currently floating in his favorite lounge-style raft with a beer in one hand, flipping Hudson the bird.
As my head breaks the surface, I hear Knox reply, “It’s a shame I don’t care about the dumb shit that leaves your mouth.” He doesn’t even bother to open his eyes.
