ASHTON I tense up, my face betraying no emotion except for the sharp definition of my cheekbones. It was inevitable that I would have to face Lennox, no matter which alternate reality I found myself in. He was always there, an unavoidable presence. A cringe-worthy thought enters my mind. "What?" Lennox asks, absentmindedly fidgeting with his silver rings. He notices my gaze fixed on his hands. That all-knowing smile of his drives me crazy, and I swear he's just a second away from saying, "Do you like that?" And I realize, I overthink things way too much. I refuse to share the intimate details of my second thought. How his father, Dr. Burke, checked on me when I had a rash on my genitals at the age of eleven. It was just chlorine irritation. But imagine if Lennox had been the one examining me—shudder with me. I gesture towards him. "The mere thought of you being my doctor gave me a mild stroke." I pretend to be surprised. "If only you were my doctor, you might actually save me now
ASHTON I’ve said all those words before: be the bigger person. Walk away. You’re feeding into their bullshit. Violence solves nothing. You’re the CEO of a nonprofit. Stop. Stop. Breathe. Leave. I let about fifteen feet divide me and the bartender. Backing up. Backing away, all the while he’s talking shit. “What about your sister,” he laughs mockingly. “Blanca Johnson—another wet slut. Bet she puts out twice as much as your mom. Is she a little sex addict too?” I taste acid on my tongue, but words burn the back of my throat. Dying inside of me. And Lennox can’t provoke the bartender. If these insults eat at him, he can’t show me either. I’m in a thundering boat of one. Trying to steer myself towards the door. I almost get there. And then he says, “I hope she locks her doors at night.” I go rigid. Motionless and still faced towards him. “What’d you say?” He laughs. “I hope she keeps her doors locked. You know how many men would break through just to taste her—” I lose it. Te
LENNOXSwiftly, I skimmed the screen. 25 Reasons Why Ashton Johnson Is Like Colton Haynes!He slowly scrolled down to the first bullet point, and I saw words: Ashton Johnson fights with his fists first and talks later. Just like Colton! I compared the most recent video of Ashton losing his cool at a Philly pub with an old video of his Uncle Colton Haynes outside a diner.Ashton played the video of his uncle and increased the volume, barely audible in the club. Colton couldn't have been older than twenty-five in the footage. He was unshaven, with a tan from the sun, and had a brooding look. The tabloids liked to call him an aggressive jackass.Colton grabbed his helmet off his black Ducati. A preppy-dressed man snickered and jumped up on the curb near Colton, taunting him, "How's that Rees pussy, Colton Haynes?""Go fuck yourself," he growled, gripping his helmet tightly. Colton stood his ground, focused on the man like a predator ready to strike. The intensity in Colton's eyes reminde
ASHTON Neither of us uttered a word as we drove home, the silence hanging heavy between us. Each passing second only added to the weight, making time feel slow and burdensome. Lennox reached out to adjust the air vents, his tattooed fingers moving languidly, almost sensually, as he opened one. A rush of cold air gushed out, but it did little to alleviate the heat that seemed to radiate from my skin.I found myself licking my lips repeatedly, a nervous habit that seemed futile. My arousal grew, pulsating with an intense desire to be satisfied, to be touched and to touch in return. I forced my gaze onto the highway, gripping the leather steering wheel tightly, my hands clenching with determination. Lennox's heated gaze shifted back and forth between the road, where paparazzi trailed my Audi, and me. It was a constant oscillation: road, then me; road, then me.I was used to being watched and observed, constantly under the scrutiny of strangers, cameramen, and people in general. But neve
ASHTONI groaned inwardly as my dad's name flashed on my phone screen. Just what I needed. Reluctantly, I sat up, and Lennox followed suit, still facing me. Our arms rested on the back of the seat, our connection unbroken.Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself for whatever news awaited me. It seemed like bad timing was a constant in my life. Lennox reached over and pressed the accept call button, handing me the phone. It was his way of saying, "Go ahead, talk to your dad, wolf scout. I'm here for you.""Hey, Dad," I greeted, putting the call on speaker so Lennox could listen in.It was a reflex, really. Over the years, and especially as my bodyguard, Lennox had earned my trust. Now, I could trust him enough to share this moment with me
ASHTONGrant Walsh, my uncle, has the most incredible office out of all the members of my family. It boasts an unrivaled view of the breathtaking Philadelphia skyline. Whenever I find myself in the sleek city high-rise that houses Walsh Inc., I can't help but lose myself in either the mesmerizing sight outside the window or the collection of memorabilia displayed on my uncle's shelves and walls.On this particular day, rain is relentlessly battering against the glass, accompanied by the deafening roars of thunder. Despite the storm raging outside, my attention is not captured by its fury. Instead, my gaze is fixed on a framed National Geographic magazine hanging on the navy-blue wall.The magazine cover features a rugged, dark-haired man in his late thirties, his skin tanned by the sun. Against a
ASHTON"Of course you do," Uncle Colton says, tossing his wadded napkins into a paper bag. "You're always on his fucking side."After a pause, he finally looks up at me, his tough brown eyes meeting my steady forest-green gaze. I speak up, saying, "I didn't know there were sides.""There are sides," my dad stands up and reaches over to Uncle Colton's lap. "I'm always on the side with the good food." He grabs the paper bag and settles back down next to me. "Taco?" He tries to break the tension, but I refuse to let it go."I'm not always on Uncle Grant's side," I counter. "He called me an idiot last week. Why would I side with that?" I try to suppress a smile as I gesture toward Grant, who raises an eyebrow. We were playing chess, and when I lost, he assured me that I didn't stand a chance with my IQ compared to his.In a subtle manner, he called me an idiot. He doesn't deny or object. And I appreciate his blunt honesty, so I actually cherish that memory."You tell me, Tony," Uncle Colt
ASHTONLennox turned to face us, his mouth moving as he chewed on gum. "Yeah?" he said casually."You know I'm relying on you to keep my son safe," my dad stated, his glare so intense it could decimate entire herds of livestock and flocks of geese. "Every time he brings a stranger into his room alone, he's putting himself in danger, and you're the only damn person who can help him—""I'm pretty sure I can handle myself," I interrupted.Lennox continued chewing his gum, his smile widening. "Listen to your dad, wolf scout. You need me."I shook my head, trying my best not to let a smile slip out. "I need less of you."He tilted his head, biting down on his gum. "No one has ever said that before.""I'm glad I could be the first," I replied dryly. Bantering like this was a common occurrence between us. It shouldn't raise any suspicions.My dad relaxed back in his seat and glanced between Uncle Colton and Uncle Grant. "Not that I care if it happens, but... have you realized that none of ou