Revolving Door Read online

  His excitement has my heart warming. “I think that sounds wonderful.”

  “After-school activities can make a positive impact on kids, especially if they’ve had a rough start in life,” he says lightly.

  I study his expression, and he seems open to my questions, so I decide to forge ahead. “I take it you had a favorite after-school sport?” I ask, knowing he grew up in foster care.

  He smiles. “Basketball.”

  “Do you still play?”

  Regret flickers across his face. “I just don’t have the time. Between classes, my job, and tutoring on the side, my schedule is pretty tight these days.”

  As I gaze at the intelligent, goal-oriented man that’s sitting across from me, I try not to feel intimidated. I have no doubt that Channing is going to successfully accomplish everything he sets his mind to.

  “What about you? What do you do when you want to relax?” he asks, switching the topic back to me.

  “Sleep,” I joke, reaching for my iced tea and taking a sip.

  “What do you do during the day when you’re not working?”

  I shrug. “I’m not kidding. I sleep a lot. Or I listen to music. Sometimes I sit by the pool.”

  Channing shakes his head, reaching for his drink. “Ash, you need to find a hobby.”

  “Like what?” I ask with interest.

  “Well, what do you like?”

  I find myself frowning. “I don’t know. It probably sounds silly, but I guess I’ve just never explored anything.”

  “What did you like to do growing up?” he prods.

  “I enjoyed cheerleading, music, movies.”

  Our conversation is interrupted as our food arrives, and we’re both momentarily quiet as we begin to eat.

  Channing finishes chewing and gazes at me. “I’m thinking I need to make some time to get on the basketball court and drag you with. You need to get out more.”

  The fact that he’s open to spending more time with me has me nearly beaming. “I’d like that. As long as you don’t tease me over how awful I am.”

  “Never,” he says firmly.

  I pick at the noodles on my plate and hesitate over a question that’s been floating around in my mind. I’d like to ask about his past, but I’m not sure if it’s a touchy or difficult topic for him. He already knows my past, and I want to know more about how he’s come to be the man that he is today.

  “Out with it,” Channing says, causing me to look at him. “You can ask me anything you want, I’m an open book.”

  “What was your childhood like?” I ask quietly.

  He continues to look relaxed as he digs his fork into the food on his plate. “Gabe and I entered the system when we were two. We were abandoned at a local mall by parents that didn’t want us anymore. We were separated and bounced around to different homes most of our childhood,” he says, and his eyes darken from the memories.

  I instantly regret bringing it up, but he continues before I can say anything.

  “It was hard to develop friendships or ties to anyone, so I kept to myself most of the time. I didn’t end up with the Thompson’s until I was thirteen. That’s when things began to change. They put a lot of effort into getting to know me, and when they found out about Gabe, they went out of their way to track him down and bring him into their home. Quinn was already there when I arrived, and Colt arrived later.”

  “That’s amazing that they brought him to you.”

  A genuine smile forms across his lips. “They’re great people, and they really taught me what kind of person I wanted to be. Gabe, Quinn, Colt and I, we grew pretty tight once we realized the Thompson’s would be keeping us until we turned eighteen and were ready to venture into the world on our own.” He shakes his head. “The Thompson’s are such a supportive couple. They even gave us each a check when we moved out to help us get our foot in the door, so to speak. They wanted to see us succeed, but that’s not where it ends. They stay in contact with us and call us family. Every foster kid that passes through their doors becomes family. We’re invited home for every holiday.” His eyes meet mine, and he grins. “They’re the parents we never had.”

  “They sound wonderful,” I say softly, thinking of how unhappy my own childhood had been.

  “I wouldn’t change a thing about my past,” Channing states without a hint of regret.

  “I can see why. You, Gabe, Quinn, and Colt are very close. It must feel good knowing they’ll always be there for you. Especially Gabe.”

  “Family will always come first, and Colt and Quinn are family. We all consider ourselves to be siblings even if we’re not related by blood. We’re a tight bunch.”

  I’m envious. To have that kind of support system, it’s something I would greatly cherish. “I always wished I had a sibling,” I reveal.

  Something in his gaze shifts. “You had a lonely childhood, didn’t you?”

  I nod.

  “Was Hayden your first boyfriend?” he asks carefully.

  “Yes.” I want to brighten the topic, and talking about Hayden is always detrimental to my mood. “I bet you had a lot of girlfriends during your teenage years,” I tease, switching the topic back to him.

  He chuckles and picks up his fork. “Actually, no. Gabe and Colt went through some rough times in high school, and just witnessing that shit go down was enough to make me avoid commitment.”

  “I bet that didn’t stop the girls,” I muse.

  He gives me a rakish grin. “Not one bit. I enjoyed myself.”

  The rest of our conversation stays light, and by the time we pull into the driveway later, I find myself disappointed that our time together is ending. We’re both quiet as we head inside.

  Channing turns to me. “I work in an hour, so I’d better shower.”

  “Thanks for dinner and the company.”

  He smiles. “Anytime.” As Channing goes upstairs, I follow behind at a slower pace since I’m headed to my room.

  The second I’m completely alone, I release an exhale. That was probably the most enjoyable dinner date I’ve ever had. No, not a date, I remind myself as I walk to the bed and set down my purse.

  I’m startled when my door abruptly opens, and I blink with shock as Channing strides towards me. He reaches for me, his hands firmly cradling my face as he tilts my head and presses his lips to mine.

  I promptly sink into him, my hands reaching up to rest on his chest. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, and I eagerly respond to it as heat builds in my lower belly. This attraction, there’s no controlling or stopping it. The kiss is deep and hot, and it lingers until it comes to an end.

  I gaze up at Channing, knowing my lips are red and swollen.

  His eyes focus on my mouth for a brief second before he blinks, and his gaze lifts to mine as his hands return to his sides. Neither of us say anything for a moment, and then he breaks the silence. “I don’t know how this could possibly work,” he says slowly.

  My heart sinks. I thought that kiss meant…

  “But I can’t stay away,” he softly adds.

  The disappointment vanishes and is promptly replaced with hope. I try to tame it, but it’s pointless. My heart is going to feel what it wants regardless of how dangerous it is. “What do we do?” I ask as I look at him, searching for answers.

  He gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I don’t know,” he says truthfully. “Your job…” his voice trails off.

  I peer into his eyes, trying to assure him. “Channing, it means nothing. I don’t care for any of them.”

  His eyes search mine. “Do you have feelings for me?”

  I nod without hesitation.

  “I need to hear it, Ash.”

  “I care about you.”

  His eyes soften. “We’ll figure things out as we…explore this.”

  “Okay.”

  Twenty-one

  Ashton

  The following day, I sleep in and take my time getting up and showering. Everyone’s likely gone for the day anyw
ay. After my shower, I change and pull my damp hair back into a simple knot at the nape of my neck.

  Channing’s been on my mind since the moment I opened my eyes this morning. Just thinking about him brightens my mood. I hadn’t known how much I yearned for companionship until Channing and I grew closer. The last thing I’d expected, or had even wanted upon leaving Philly, was to explore a relationship with someone. But Channing is unlike any guy I’ve ever met.

  When my stomach growls, drawing my attention to it, I make my way down to the kitchen.

  Quinn is sitting at the table, leafing through the small pile of mail that has collected upon it.

  I look at her with surprise. “Do you have the day off?”

  She looks up and makes a face. “I have a root canal scheduled in an hour.”

  I hide a wince. Going to the dentist is one of my least favorite things to do. “Good luck.”

  Quinn sets down an envelope and gives me a look. “Spill.”

  “Pardon?” I ask with confusion.

  “Harper saw Channing coming out of your room yesterday morning,” she announces, her eyes watching mine intently.

  My first thought is to delay the conversation so that I can sort out what to say. I turn to the cupboard and open it as I debate how much to tell her.

  “You’re not upset Harper told me, are you?” I hear Quinn ask, and there’s a frown in her voice.

  I grab the first glass I see and turn back to her. “No, not at all,” I assure. “I just want to pour some orange juice first, and then we can talk.”

  She nods and slides the pile of mail aside before patiently waiting until I take a seat at the table. “You seem flustered,” she observes.

  “It’s just…complicated,” I say truthfully.

  “Hey, I totally get complicated, but I don’t mean to pressure you into talking if you don’t want to.” She gives me a cheeky smile. “I’m just nosy.”

  I take a sip of the juice and set it down. “It isn’t what you think,” I tell her. I don’t want Quinn or anyone else thinking that Channing’s sneaking into my room for sex.

  She arches an eyebrow and leans back in her chair, her brown eyes riveted on me. “What do you think I’m thinking?”

  “That we had sex. We didn’t.”

  Her expression is almost comical as puzzlement flickers across her face before suspicion takes its place. “You guys aren’t having sex?” she asks, her tone laced with doubt.

  My face flushes. “We did once, and it was a while back.”

  “But he spent the night in your room, right?”

  I don’t want to explain everything to her, at least not yet. “He did,” I say carefully.

  Quinn looks completely perplexed. “And you two didn’t do anything?”

  I shake my head and run my thumb across the collecting condensation on the outside of my glass.

  “We’re talking about Channing, correct?” she presses.

  My eyes meet hers. “Yes.”

  She sighs and leans forward in her chair, her eyes turning serious. “Ash, Channing isn’t the settling down type. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t see you doing casual.”

  “The night we had sex was spur of the moment, it wasn’t supposed to mean anything. And you’re right, he doesn’t want to settle down,” I confess, a lump forming in my throat. She isn’t saying anything that I don’t already know.

  Quinn groans and folds her arms on the table, dropping her head onto her clasped arms. “Ash,” she groans, her voice muffled.

  “I’m not delusional,” I insist. “He’s been completely honest with me. We’re just…talking and getting to know each other.”

  Quinn sits up, her eyebrows pulling together with puzzlement. “You’re trying to be friends?”

  How am I supposed to explain this when I’m not even certain what we’re doing? “Something like that.”

  “You guys had sex,” she points out. “Channing’s not going to be able to do platonic after that—not if he’s attracted to you.”

  I can’t deny that she has a valid reason to be concerned.

  She just stares at me before slowly shaking her head. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “Not a clue,” I mutter.

  Quinn’s expression turns frustrated. “He’s going to hurt you. Maybe not intentionally, but it’s still going to happen. That’s how it always ends with these guys.”

  “I know,” I say softly.

  “None of this involves me, but I can’t help but give you some friendly advice.” Her eyes soften as she gazes at me. “I know Channing a lot better than you. Don’t let yourself hope for anything more than just casual sex. Better yet, stay away from him completely,” she advises.

  “We live in the same house,” I remind.

  “Exactly!” she exclaims. “I don’t want you to move out a month from now because you can’t handle seeing him with others once this thing between you two is over. End it now before it gets to that point.”

  Quinn’s warnings about Channing are disturbing. Unfortunately, she’s also right. He’s likely going to break my heart, and yet I don’t think I can stop this thing from unfolding further.

  Desperate to switch the topic, I decide to bring up Colt and Gabe. “Channing mentioned that Gabe and Colt went through some tough times back in high school?”

  Quinn’s brown eyes widen. “He told you?”

  I shake my head. “He didn’t go into detail.”

  She looks momentarily dumbfounded. “So he talks to you?” she asks slowly.

  “Of course.”

  Quinn’s completely silent.

  “I told you, we haven’t had sex since that one time,” I remind.

  “That…just doesn’t sound like Channing,” she says, looking completely mystified.

  “I don’t have a label for what we’re doing. Neither of us really know. It’s confusing,” I admit.

  “I would have to agree,” she mutters

  “Can you shed some light on what happened with Gabe and Colt?” I ask with interest.

  “They aren’t my stories to share.” She sighs once more and looks at me worriedly. “Ash, just be careful. I really don’t want to see you hurt.”

  ***

  I’m exhausted when I leave the club and begin driving home, but my aching feet and scratchy eyes are the last things on my mind. It’s been two days since Channing and I have spent any time together. It’d been easier over the weekend, but now he’s busy with classes, tutoring, and his job. About the time his day is ending, mine’s just beginning. We’ve seen each other in passing, and it’s given me more time to think upon the conversation I’d had with Quinn the other day.

  As my car idles at a set of stoplights, I fight back a yawn while my thoughts turn troubled. I need to be honest with myself. My interest in Channing isn’t just a passing curiosity, and I like the fact that he hasn’t brought up my dyslexia. It’s as if it doesn’t matter to him. The way he treats me, I treasure every minute of it—even if it’s just sealing my fate.

  My lips press together as the lights change, and I drive forward once more. Channing is so…put together. His life is all mapped out—just the way he wants it. I’m aware that I don’t fit or belong anywhere within his future plans. I’m messy and full of mistakes. I don’t know where my life is heading, and right now, I’m okay with my questionable future.

  By the time I let myself inside the house and enter the bathroom on the second floor, my mood has become heavy with my thoughts. With a soft sigh, I wash my skin thoroughly beneath the warm spray in the shower. Honestly, it would make everything much easier if Channing backed out of this now before it can begin. Lord knows I don’t have the strength to do it myself.

  When I’m clean, I wrap myself in the towel and dry my hair the best that I can with a fresh one. Then, I grab my clothes and bag, and go to my room. There, I find Channing waiting for me.

  He’s standing in the middle of the room wearing a tee and pajama pants. He looks mo
mentarily uncertain until his eyes run over my body encased in the short towel. Heat briefly flickers in his gaze until his eyes settle on mine. “This seems to be the only way to see you during the week.”

  Seeing him standing there has my spirits soaring, and everything I’d been thinking the past few days promptly fades away. “I know.” I hesitate and then ask, “Are you staying?”

  His eyes search mine. “Do you want me to?”

  I nod.

  He moves to the bed and sits down, his back facing me so that I have privacy while I quickly change.

  I slip on a tank and panties, and once the light has been turned off, Channing and I climb into the bed. He draws me into his arms, and my body relaxes as I take in the masculine scent of his deodorant that lingers on his shirt. He always smells so nice.

  “It feels good to hold you,” he murmurs.

  I smile and snuggle closer. His lips brush my temple, and I instinctively tilt my head so he can kiss me. He doesn’t need any prompting, and his lips quickly claim mine.

  Kissing Channing is becoming addictive. I love his taste and the way he kisses me, almost as if he can't get enough of me. I feel his hand easing across my shirt towards my breast. His hand hesitates, and I know he wants to touch me, but he also doesn't want to take things too fast.

  "It's okay," I breathe against his lips.

  His mouth closes over mine once more, and his hand dips beneath my shirt and slides up to my right breast. He cups it briefly before his thumb brushes against the tip, causing my nipple to come to life. I make a pleased sound against his lips, and he smiles before his tongue tangles with mine. As he kisses me deeply, his fingers play with the pebbled tip. My hips move restlessly, and he continues kissing me as his hand switches to my other breast, giving it the same attention.