A Walk Through Fire (9 page)

“Okay, kids, do I have anyone scheduled this morning?” Ash reached for the printed schedule Marly glanced at.

“Um, yeah, but not until later. It’s the kid who came in last week, pretty bad off.”

Stevie North. Ash’s gut tightened. “Thanks.” With what he hoped was a casual tone, he asked, “Boss man here?”

Fortunately Marly was busy cutting off a slice of her cupcake to give to Javier, so she didn’t pay much attention to him. “Uh yeah, Dr. Drew came in about an hour ago and Dr. Rachel’s here too.”

Inwardly Ash groaned. While he thought Drew’s sister cute and funny, she loved to psychoanalyze the shit out of him, coming uncomfortably close to the truth too many times. More often than not, he avoided her and her good-natured, nosy questioning.

“Thanks. See you two later.”

Neither answered, their mouths full of cupcake.

As he walked down the hallway, he greeted the other volunteers who came every Saturday and Sunday to meet with the kids who stopped by. They had Rachel to thank for them. She’d gotten ten of her fellow psychology classmates to volunteer to sit with the boys and girls who came in and talked to them. Fortunately the problems weren’t always that bad. More often than not it came down to a simple miscommunication with their parents or siblings or a teenager being a teenager. They talked for a while and went on their way with a better understanding of how to handle a parent or a brother or sister.

Those were the lucky ones and fortunately constituted most of their cases.

But then there were cases like Marly’s, or fifteen-year-old Stevie, that made what Drew had set up here worth everything.

Immersed in his thoughts and not watching where he was going, he ran straight into the man who occupied his mind most of the time.

“Ooof.” Their bodies collided, and Ash’s head made painful contact with Drew’s, a hard edge slicing into his cheekbone as their bodies flattened against one another. He had to admit that for a moment he saw stars.

Staggering away, Ash felt the warm trickle of blood run down his cheek. “Ow.” He touched his cheek, and it came away bloodstained. “What the hell?” The words died on his lips as he saw Drew, a concerned look on his face, wearing glasses that made him look hot as shit. The pain in his head forgotten, he wanted nothing more than to flatten the man against the wall and kiss him senseless.

“When did you get the glasses, Doc?” The man looked like a sexy professor, except no professor he ever had in law school had a face or body like Drew’s. Desire prickled through him, hardening his cock even as the blood dripped down his face.

Drew stopped rubbing his head. “Shit, Ash. Come on to the examining room. I have to see if you need stitches.” He pointed to the door on his right. “This one is free.”

Ash entered and hopped up on the table, forcing himself to raise his gaze to Drew, who stood over him with a wet gauze pad, cleaning up the blood. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Drew’s lips twitched. “Last time I checked, you went to law school, not medical school, so shut up and let me look.” He took off those sexy professor glasses and came close to Ash’s face.

Warning bells went off in his head. Shit. He’d never been this close to the man, except when Drew was too drunk to notice, or in his X-rated dreams. The reality was so much better. His touch was deft yet gentle, and a clean fresh scent emanated from his skin, as if he’d stepped out of a shower only a minute before. Unwittingly, Ash groaned out loud.

Immediately, Drew’s expression turned concerned. “Does it hurt very badly? I might need to put in a stitch or two near your eye. That’s where the cut is the deepest.” The tips of his fingers touched Ash’s cheek, and his eyes clouded with obvious distress. “Shit, I’m sorry. I really didn’t see or hear you.”

Without thinking, Ash covered Drew’s hand. “Not your fault. I was the one not paying attention.”

Neither of them moved; then Ash watched as Drew’s gaze flickered over to their joined hands. A sweet blush colored Drew’s cheeks as he pulled away his fingers. “Uh, anyway, let me see if we can get away with a butterfly bandage on this and then you won’t need the stitches, ’kay?”

Shit. He didn’t mean for that to happen. Sure he lusted over the guy, but Drew was straight and never gave any indication he’d be interested in crossing the line. That time Drew made his drunken confession about jerking off while he thought about Ash was probably a mistake. Everyone had weird dreams now and then. It didn’t mean Drew wanted to change his sexuality.

“Sure. Have at it.” He closed his eyes and relaxed as Drew cleaned and dressed the cut.

“Not as bad as I thought. The skin’s so thin in that area it bleeds a lot, but it wasn’t too deep. Keep it covered, and in a few days I’ll check it to make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

Ash opened his eyes to Drew’s back as he cleaned up and rinsed his hands. It gave him a chance to appreciate the man from behind. “Thanks, Drew. Appreciate it.”

“No problem. Always good to have a doctor in the house, right?” Drew winked over his shoulder at Ash, not realizing the torment he put Ash through. Now, even though he’d only known the man a few months, Ash respected him and wouldn’t think to do anything to jeopardize their friendship, including touching him or kissing him.

But goddamn it to hell, he was dying to do that. As he continued to watch Drew clean up, Ash focused on the part of his neck between where his hair curled at the edges and his T-shirt ended. There was nothing more he wanted to do in this lifetime than lick that teasing bit of flesh. Lost in the fantasy of him driving into Drew on the examining room table, gripping the man’s hips as he pushed into Drew over and over again, he almost jumped a foot when Drew tapped him on the shoulder.

“Whoa, what’s up with you today? You’re jumpy as all hell.” Drew laughed and stepped back with his hands up. “You almost clocked me again.”

It took every effort of Ash’s will not to move and drag Drew up against his hard-on. The last thing he needed, however, was Drew finding out the extent of his feelings, especially as confused as he was about them himself. “Restless night. I have a nasty case coming up I’m not looking forward to.” Big fucking lie. He never let any of his cases get to him, approaching them as a means to an end. The only thing that really mattered to him at this point in his life were the kids he was helping here, and finding the foster brothers he’d left behind in Georgia.

When his body calmed down sufficiently for him to move, he slid off the examining table and held out his hand to shake Drew’s. “Thanks, Doc. I appreciate it.” Drew had those sexy glasses back on again. “You never answered me. When did you get those?”

Drew reddened. “I went to the eye doctor since my vision was getting a little blurry close up. He said I should wear them.”

“They look good. Make you look like a professor. Women will love them.” Ash gave him a two-fingered salute and walked out the door, not waiting for an answer. He didn’t want to think about Drew dating women.

The day flew, and by five o’clock he was on his last appointment. His heart squeezed when he saw Stevie’s name. One of the unlucky ones, Stevie was a target for every homophobic bully he came in contact with. Small, thin, and pale, he was almost pretty enough to pass for a young girl. When his foster siblings would come to him in the middle of the night, hold him down, and abuse him, he was too weak and ineffective to hold them off. It never mattered to them that Stevie didn’t want to be touched. They heaped threats on him, vowing to cut off his balls and stuff them in his mouth should he ever breathe a word to anyone about what they did to him. The bruises they inflicted were crafted to remain hidden under his clothing, but from years of experience, it didn’t fool Ash. He knew where to look.

At their first meeting, Stevie almost vomited, he was so nervous. He kept glancing at the door, later confessing he’d thought someone would burst through it to drag him out and kill him. Only after several weeks could he relax enough and begin to confide his horror story. But only to Ash. When Ash told him he’d have to go to child services or the police to report what Stevie told him, the boy freaked out.

 “I’ll run away and never come back if you do that. Please. Let me come here and talk to you.”

Sitting behind his desk, Ash’s fingers tightened on the folder that held the details of all of Stevie’s personal sessions. He understood what the boy lived through each night. The only hope was for Stevie to gain strength and report the abuse. And then they could get him to a good and caring foster family. As of today, he was too scared. Ash could hardly blame him for his very real fear.

There was a knock on the door. “Come on in.” The door opened, framing Stevie’s slender body. At fifteen he had yet to acquire any height, bulk, or facial hair. He looked as smooth as a twelve-year-old.

“Hey, kiddo, come on in.” He smiled at the young boy, noting with a fury he’d learned to keep well hidden, the boy’s swollen lips and the bruises that peeked out on his neck from underneath his longish brown hair. “Rough night?”

Stevie’s face reddened as he stared at the floor and nodded. “I tried, Mr. Davis. I tried to tell them no, and that I would call the police, but they laughed at me. Said all faggots wanted it, even when we said no.”

“Where were your foster parents?”

“They went out for the evening. Bowling or something. My foster dad’s in a league and had a tournament or something.” Stevie still couldn’t look at him.

“Stevie, this can’t go on. Those boys have to be stopped, or they’re going to hurt you worse each time.” Ash came from around the desk to sit in the chair next to Stevie.

“I can’t tell no one. Don’t you understand?” Stevie raised his big brown eyes to Ash, whose heart was breaking. “They’ll hurt me even more. Jimmy’s gonna go off to the army soon, so that’ll leave only Donny. He’s gentle and doesn’t hurt me.” Stevie’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “He tells Jimmy to stop when he gets too crazy. After they both leave, Donny usually comes back to make sure I’m all right. I think I can be okay with him at home.”

Ash put his hand on Stevie’s shoulder. “Do you like Donny?”

After a moment, Stevie gave a little shrug. “He’s okay.”

“Hey, kiddo, don’t worry. Maybe I can talk to him—”

“No. You can’t. I can’t have anyone know I was here. If they ever found out…” Stevie shuddered. “I think Jimmy might kill me.”

“And your parents?” Ash’s lips curled at those words. How oblivious were these fucking people? “Don’t your foster parents have anything to say? Don’t they care?”

Stevie nodded his head. “No, you don’t get it. They’re really nice to me, and Mrs. Harding especially helps me with my homework and everything, but I can’t tell her what goes on, ’cause Jimmy will beat me up.” He tucked his hair behind his ears. “They already hate me because they think she favors me. She gives me extra helpings at dinner and slips me a few extra dollars every week to get snacks after school and stuff.”

Big, sad brown eyes locked with his. “I’m so scared, Mr. Davis. Why is this happening to me? I know other kids in foster care who have older brothers and sisters who look after them. Why can’t I get so lucky?”

At one time he was that kind of brother. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his brothers. Before he’d fucked everything up and ran away. Before he became the selfish prick he grew up to be. “If you let me contact child services, I can help you, Stevie. You should let me call the cops.”

“I-I don’t know. I gotta think about it. I’m still afraid that if I report it, Jimmy will find out.” Stevie checked his cheap plastic watch. “Oh shit, I better go or I’ll be late.” He jumped up, got to the opened door, and turned. “Thanks, Mr. Davis. I’ll think about what you said and see you next week, all right?” He gave a small yet hopeful smile.

Ash stood and drew the boy into a hug. His skinny shoulders were like the fragile wings of a baby bird. How soon before they were permanently broken? “I’m always here for you if you need me. Here’s my card with my cell phone. Call me anytime. I mean it.” He took out his wallet and gave Stevie his card, which he was happy to see went into the boy’s wallet. “Bye, kiddo.”

Stevie waved and hurried out of the room. Ash, totally drained, returned to sit, all but collapsing from the emotional struggle within him. No matter what Stevie said, he was going to talk to Drew. They had an obligation to report it, but they had to keep Stevie’s name out of it. Maybe Jordan’s partner, the detective, could help. That poor, poor kid.

Without warning, a flashback rose before his eyes, himself at fourteen, helpless in his bed late at night, as his “father” cuffed him to the bed, blindfolded him, then touched him all over, kissing him, thrusting first his thick tongue in his mouth, then his thick cock everywhere else. His first kiss, a brutal memory. Any thought of hope, destroyed forever by the acts of violence against him. Since then, he’d never allowed any man to kiss or fuck him. Sex was never about love; it was power and control.

“No, no.” He groaned out loud as he rocked back and forth, helpless to stop the tidal wave of emotion crashing over him. Memories flooded through him of his own degradation and exploitation by adults who should have been protecting him, nurturing and caring for him. He couldn’t shake off the fact that he’d left the other boys behind. He’d tried to report what was happening in his house, but he knew they wouldn’t take him, a gay kid from the street, seriously. Not against a respected police officer. He was as bad or worse than his foster father, leaving them there, but he couldn’t stay or he’d have ended up killing himself. “Stop, stop it.” The tears fell unchecked as he hunched within himself, shaking and moaning. “I’m sorry. I tried. I’m so, so sorry.”

Warm, strong arms encircled him. Without thinking, he grabbed on to the person and held him tight, burying his face into a hard chest. Confused, he lifted his head and met the equally confused gaze of Drew.

Chapter Eight

Today was one hard, long-ass day
. Mike had performed magic on the teeth and jaw of a sixteen-year-old who’d been beaten in a schoolyard brawl, simply because she came out as gay. Just because they lived in New York City didn’t mean the people weren’t as prejudiced and homophobic as any other place. Ignorance existed everywhere.