Heavens Aground (Treble and the Lost Boys Book 2)

by G. R. Lyons

  “Oh, sorry,” Ryley said. “I drank it. I thought it was weird that it was just sitting right there.”

  Asher shrugged. “We'll just get more.” He handed the shell to Ryley, and they continued on their way.

  They gathered a few more things, then came upon a rock formation around a small pool. Asher ducked down and crawled into an opening in the rocks, so Ryley followed suit, finding himself in a small cave, a shaft of light coming through a hole in the rock over their heads.

  The space smelled a bit stuffy, but otherwise showed obvious signs of having been kept as clean as possible. Several small furs were piled up in a corner, and a few rocks lay lined up along one wall, looking as though they'd been crudely hollowed into makeshift bowls, some of them holding various leaves and berries. One seemed to contain strips of dried meat.

  “How did you manage all this?” Ryley asked, his eyes wide as he looked around.

  Asher shrugged. “Some of it, I figured out over the years. Learned the hard way a few times,” he said with a wry grin. “Most of it, though, Uncle Greg taught me.”

  Ryley's eyebrows went up. “Your uncle?”

  Asher nodded. “He used to take me camping all the time.” He paused, then added in a mumble, “When I was a kid.”

  Ryley barked a laugh. “Camping?” Gregor Arden, camping? There was no way.

  Asher's solemn mood turned around again, and he chuckled. “I know, right? The multimillionaire and owner of several businesses, who is never seen in anything but a suit and tie, out roughing it? But he did. He loved it. And he was into hardcore camping, too. Nothing like my dad. Whenever my family went, it was always a motorcoach with every luxury imaginable. Not Uncle Greg. We'd head out with nothing but a jug of water on our backs—sometimes not even that—and find ways to survive. Find food. Make tools. Create a shelter. It was just our special thing, you know?” Asher paused, shaking his head. “If it hadn't been for everything he taught me, I never would have survived here.”

  Ryley grinned. “Gods, he's gonna be so fucking proud of you when you get back and tell him.”

  Asher looked down, blushing and smiling again. Then he looked back up at Ryley and asked, “I'm really going home? Uncle Greg really wants me there?”

  “Absolutely. You should see what the man has gone through trying to track you down. The file he had on you was insane.”

  Asher blinked, then looked around and shook his head. “Are you hungry? We should eat while there's still light.”

  Ryley's stomach growled loudly at the mention of food.

  Asher chuckled and handed Ryley a bowl.

  They ate in silence, then Asher went about whatever routine he normally did in the evenings, getting things cleaned up and organized in the fading light of the setting suns. When it was finally too dark to see much more than vague shapes, they settled down together on Asher's pile of furs, sitting and chatting for a long while about inconsequential things. Ryley did most of the talking, Asher's voice getting strained from so much use after so many years of silence. Ryley kept things light, telling Asher about their trip to Erostil and the band and his family and friends, skipping around the more dismal aspects of his work and his recent breakup with Vic. He was determined to make Asher smile as much as possible, so he kept at it until they both started yawning.

  “Come on,” Asher said, and Ryley was just able to make out the guy patting the furs as he lay down. “It'll be cramped, but…”

  Ryley shrugged and stretched out beside him, the two of them snuggling up together when a cool breeze flowed through the small cave between the two openings. They shifted around until they finally settled with Asher spooned up against Ryley's back.

  Ryley smiled, sighed, and fell into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  ASHER WOKE several times throughout the night, not used to the presence of another person. He seemed constantly aware of the sound of Ryley's breaths, the heat of Ryley's body, the touch of Ryley's skin. Even so, he couldn't stop smiling. He was no longer alone.

  He still wasn't convinced he was going home, though. Until he actually saw a boat on the shore with his own two eyes, he wouldn't let himself believe that it was finally happening. Ryley was convinced this Vic guy would come find them, but what if he didn't know where to look? What if he never considered coming to the island? Ryley could be stuck there with him for good.

  But, at least, they'd have each other. That was a hell of a lot more than Asher had had for the past thirteen years.

  Thirteen years. Asher sighed. He'd spent more than half his life stuck on that island, all alone. He just couldn't wrap his head around it. He was twenty-five years old, and didn't feel remotely like it. Sure, he knew he'd grown, and his reflection in the water showed him an adult figure, but he still couldn't think of himself as a man. He was just a boy. Still twelve years old, lost and alone.

  Asher smiled. Still lost, yes, but no longer alone. He tightened his arms around Ryley, letting out a contented sigh when Ryley hugged Asher's arms and snuggled back against him.

  “Mmmm, good morning,” Ryley murmured. He paused, looking around. “It is morning, right?”

  “Yeah. Good morning.”Asher chuckled.

  Ryley twisted around just enough to look back over his shoulder. “What's so funny?”

  Asher shrugged. “It's just nice to have someone to say good morning to.”

  Ryley beamed at him.

  They got up and went outside to relieve their bladders and scoop up some water from the pool. Then Ryley kept out of the way while Asher went about making a fire and gathering things for them to eat. Once that was done, Asher showed Ryley how to clean his teeth with what little they had at their disposal, then they both had a quick wash in the stream flowing away from the pool before Asher took Ryley on a little tour, showing him more of the island.

  They didn't get far before the sound of an engine reached their ears.

  Asher froze. “Is that…”

  They stared at one another, then Asher took off in the direction of the northern beach, crashing through the trees, Ryley right on his heels. There was no way a boat was actually coming there. He heard it, but he had to see it for himself.

  Asher hit the tree line and lurched to a stop. He fell to his knees, staring at the sight of a small boat pulling right up into the shallows, nudging into the sand. A lone man hopped out, scanning all around. The man looked huge, a tall frame and broad shoulders making up an imposing figure that loomed right at the water's edge.

  “Ryley!” the man called, his tone a desperate cry.

  “Vic!” Ryley scrambled right past Asher and ran down the beach. “Ha! I knew it! I knew you'd find–”

  The big man—Vic—cut off Ryley's words with a backhanded slap to the face.

  Asher snatched up his spear and launched to his feet.

  “What the hells were you thinking?” Vic yelled, grabbing Ryley by the shoulders with both hands.

  Asher threw himself between the two men just a second before he realized Vic was trying to hug Ryley, not hurt him. Still, the man had slapped Ryley. He wasn't about to stop until he showed this guy he'd done wrong. Asher pushed Ryley behind him and held his spear up to Vic's throat, snarling as he faced the man. Vic put up his hands and took a step back, eyeing Asher and the spear with calm caution.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Ash!” Ryley called, grabbing Asher by the shoulders from behind. “Easy. It's alright. It's just Vic.”

  Asher snarled again.

  Vic's eyes cut past Asher and focused on Ryley instead. “Ash?”

  Asher risked a glance over his shoulder at Ryley, who grinned and nodded. “We found him, Vic. We found Asher Arden.”

  Vic turned his gaze on Asher, his expression softening from defensive and shocked to calm and friendly. His shoulders lowered and his hands dropped to his sides.

  “Mr. Arden,” Vic said, a gentle smile on his face. “It is truly a pleasure to meet you. My name is Victor Lucius.”

  The man h
eld out a hand, and Asher eyed it carefully before he slowly lowered his spear and straightened up. He shook the man's hand, awkward though it felt, and found himself staring up at Vic in surprise when he realized this big guy wasn't all that much taller than him.

  Holy gods, just how much have I grown?

  The handshake broke, and Vic gestured at the boat instead. “How would you like to go home?”

  Chapter 10

  RYLEY TUCKED Asher into bed and watched the man sleep. The past several hours had been crazy, starting with coaxing Asher off the island and into the boat—as much as Asher had been desperate to go home for years, having the opportunity suddenly dropped in his lap took the poor guy some getting used to—and then helping Asher survive the crowds once they got back to Erostil. It hadn't helped that the man was still naked. He'd been awkward enough just around Ryley and Vic, but then having to walk the streets back to the hotel amongst any number of strangers made it so bad that Asher had a full-blown anxiety attack just before they got safely inside.

  But Vic had managed to get Asher calmed down. Ryley smiled at the thought. The man was just so damned good at what he did.

  Once Asher was composed, Vic went out to get Asher some toiletries and clothes while Ryley sat Asher down to give him a haircut and the first shave of his life, followed by a proper wash. Most of Asher's hair had to go—it was too matted and damaged from years of Asher hacking at it with sharpened rocks so as to keep it out of his face—but it wouldn't take long to grow into something usable.

  “How'd you learn to do this?” Asher had asked, looking up at Ryley in the washroom mirror.

  Ryley shrugged. “When I was a teenager, before I got into working insurance, I was training as a hairdresser. You know, the old cliché. Every little gay boy wants to grow up to be a stylist, right?” He snorted a laugh. “But it worked out because I wound up with a temporary job at a funeral home, working on dead bodies to get them ready for open-casket viewings. Embalming and makeup and whatnot. No one else would take the job. And then, one day, there was this one body I was working on. There was something just not right about it, so I did some research, and they called in a medical examiner. The guy's insurance company had entirely missed the evidence that he'd been murdered instead of dying of natural causes. After that, the medical examiner called in a recommendation to Sturmwyn Insurance, where I work now. They put me in all these forensics classes, and I loved it.” Ryley shrugged and grinned. “Now I still work with dead bodies, but it's a lot more interesting.”

  Asher studied him in the mirror. “How old were you?” he asked quietly.

  “Well, I was nineteen when I started at Sturmwyn, after the forensics classes. Sixteen when I started at the funeral home, and I'd been training as a stylist for a couple years before that.”

  Asher frowned. “So you were…out?”

  Ryley barked a laugh. “Babe, I was out at five years old. Everybody knew. I couldn't have tried to be in the closet even if I'd wanted to.”

  Asher had gone silent after that, and the conversation stopped until Ryley was done and they saw the transformation in the mirror. Even with Asher's hair a little too short for Ryley's liking, the man was stunning. Bright green eyes. Strong jaw. And without the matted hair and ragged beard, he finally looked his age.

  Ryley looked down at the sleeping man again and sighed. It was going to be a while before Asher learned to feel his age, still stuck in the mindset of a twelve-year-old in many ways despite having to grow up as quickly as he had. But Vic would help with that. Ryley was sure of it.

  Speaking of Vic, Ryley still owed the man a full account of what he'd done so they could write it into their report. Ryley crept out of the bedroom and shut the door, leaving Asher alone to sleep, and looked around for Vic.

  He found the man in the suite's kitchen area, leaning back against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the floor.

  “Vic?” Ryley asked, crossing the room toward him.

  Vic gave a start, then relaxed back again, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Hey.” He held up a hand before Ryley could speak. “I should not have hit you. I am so sorry.”

  Ryley stopped where he was. “Vic, you don't have to apologize–”

  “Yes, I do,” Vic insisted. “That– That's not me. It was inexcusable.”

  Ryley looked down at the floor. “Not like I didn't deserve it–”

  “Ry–”

  “I mean, I did the same to you, right? Metaphorically, anyway.”

  He risked a glance up at Vic's face, and saw the man wince and look away. Ryley had definitely slapped the man in the face a few times, alright. More than a few. Hells, Ryley had no idea just how many times he'd cheated on the man. One little slap back from Vic was the least he deserved.

  “And you must have been so worried,” Ryley went on, not exactly changing the subject but steering it a little closer to the present.

  “What the hells were you thinking, Ry?” Vic suddenly asked, though there was more concern than fury in his voice. “Running off like that? Alone? You should have at least called to say where you were going. Do you have any idea what I went through when I found some drunken sailor tossing your stuff onto the dock and then laughing about the fact that he'd just left you out there in the middle of the water? Hells, Ry, I thought you were dead or–” He broke off and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then huffed out a breath. “I can't go through anything like that again.”

  Ryley grimaced. Shit. Cam. “I'm so sorry. I didn't even think about that. I just…I wasn't sure if it was going to lead anywhere, and I thought…” He trailed off and shook his head, giving Vic a smile. “I knew you'd find us. I wasn't worried.”

  Vic nodded slowly, then pushed off the counter. “Come on. Let's finish the case notes.”

  Ryley stifled a sigh. Business as usual.

  “Then I can call Gregor Arden and give him the good news,” Vic added.

  Ryley beamed. He couldn't help it. Despite things still being strained between him and Vic, they'd found someone. Alive. And that was a good day in his book.

  * * *

  ASHER SAT on the couch, clinging to Ryley's hand, while Vic got set up across from them, organizing some files on either side of his laptop on the coffee table. Ryley gave his hand a squeeze, and Asher managed a bit of a smile. Vic wanted to get Asher's story, both to round out their case and to start Asher's therapy.

  Therapy. He hated the sound of that word, but he knew he'd probably need it. He'd spent all those years desperate to go back to his family, back to his life, but after just one night in that hotel room, he was already falling apart. It was so different from what he'd grown accustomed to. He never imagined he'd have to actually adjust back to a life like the one he'd known before the island, but it was already clear that was going to be the case. Just walking from the docks to the hotel had been torture. All those people. How the hells was he ever going to handle actually going back home?

  At least they had a few days until that would happen. Vic had booked tickets for them on the next ship back to Agoran, but it wouldn't sail until early next week.

  Asher shook his head. Next week. He hadn't had to think in terms of weeks and months in so long. Hadn't had to consider schedules and dates. Each day just blended into the next. One just like the one before it. On the island, it didn't matter what day of the week it was. What month it was. All that mattered was survival.

  “Asher, I'm going to be recording this conversation to make sure we don't miss anything,” Vic said, tearing Asher out of his thoughts. “Is that alright?”

  Asher glanced at Ryley, saw his encouraging smile, and gave a nod.

  Vic tapped a button on his laptop and rattled off his name, the case file number, and the current date, time, and location. Then he looked up. “Alright, Asher,” he said gently. “At your own pace. Can you tell us what happened the day you went missing?”

  Asher fidgeted, focusing on the back of the laptop as he spoke. “We went on va
cation to Erostil. Me and my family.” He glanced up at Vic, who gestured at him to continue. “It was me, my dad, my mom, and my sister. And some of my dad's friends. Dad spent a lot of time at meetings even though we were supposed to be on vacation…” He trailed off and shook his head, realizing none of that was relevant, though it still upset him, even all those years later. “One day, we went walking through town. Doctor's orders,” he added quickly. “I was supposed to be getting regular exercise. I'd had a bad accident the year before, and I was still recovering.” Ryley's hand tightened around his. “Before we went to Erostil, there was this male nurse at the physical therapy office.” Asher felt himself blushing. “It was the first time someone had touched me and made me feel…something. You know?”

  Vic gave him an encouraging nod.

  “My dad saw,” Asher went on, “and immediately took me away. I never saw the nurse again. I had home therapy after that, with a woman. But then the woman started bringing her son along, and he and I started to become friends. Maybe more than friends,” Asher added. “But Dad saw that and fired the woman, too. Then he decides on this trip to Erostil, out of the blue, and he dragged us all through town here even though my mom protested. All the naked people, you know? She didn't want me and my sister seeing that. But Dad insisted.”

  Asher took a deep breath and continued: “We got to this sort of plaza downtown. There were people…you know…having sex…everywhere. And all these other naked people just standing around, talking, like it was no big deal.

  “My dad dragged me over to this group of women, and started blatantly talking about their bodies, asking me if I wanted to touch them. He'd never done anything like that before. I was so embarrassed. And I didn't want to touch them. Their bodies were just…weird, you know? But then one of them started touching me, and my dad kept laughing, encouraging it.