Demming by Avril Ashton

Sixteen

Planning a jewelry heist was different from planning something like a rescue operation, but it still took a whole lotta time and energy. Demming had Lilac and Jessie doing onsite recon while he and the others crafted their plans remotely. He remained in Brooklyn because he couldn’t make himself leave, but it wasn’t as if they hadn’t done their planning this way in the past.

He had yet to tell Hart he’d accepted a job from Renzo Vega. At least this one was in San Diego and not out of the country. He couldn’t say why he’d refrained from telling Hart. Maybe he didn’t want to see the familiar disappointment in the eyes of someone he cared about when he told them he’d be leaving and didn’t know when he’d be back. Or if.

There was always that as well.

Things were different now. He’d gone and found himself in an actual relationship with a man he was more than slightly obsessed with. And he didn’t want to leave. Not for a day. Not for an hour. It had taken a lot to not turn Renzo down, but in the end, he couldn’t. Renzo had never told him he couldn’t turn down a job, it was just something Demming couldn’t make himself do. He felt as if he owed Renzo, and that debt wouldn’t let him refuse when Renzo called.

So here he was, two months into planning a new job, and the time for leaving had arrived. He could no longer put off telling Hart. Or his mother and Bryce. Those would definitely not be fun conversations.

Hart hadn’t gotten around to telling his family about them. Demming didn’t mind that. What he cared about was that Hart still hadn’t told his father about the Larchmont deal. His reticence made him look as if he had something to hide, which Demming didn’t think was the case. There was something in Hart’s eyes whenever they talked about it that made Demming think maybe Hart was afraid of his father’s reaction. As if he didn’t want the old man to be disappointed in him.

Demming knew that feeling too well. All these years, he’d been focused on doing all he could to ensure his family would be okay, because that was his job as a son and brother, yes, but also because it was what his father would have wanted and he would die before he disappointed his dad. He’d thought owning the property was part of it, but he hadn’t even given that much thought lately.

It only crossed his mind when he got updates from the lawyers and it felt weird since he’d been chasing that goal for so long, to not be so focused on it the way he used to. It didn’t matter now the way it used to, he supposed, because of his mother’s words.

And because of Hart.

Obtaining the deal had been all-consuming, the cause of all his distractions, and maybe even why he hadn’t attempted relationships or anything deeper than quick sexual gratification. But Hart came into his life and turned it upside down, but for the better, and Demming didn’t see that changing anytime soon.

He’d just finished a call with his team when Hart walked into the condo. They’d exchanged keys a week prior and Demming had to admit it felt right, Hart walking into his place as if it were his permanent residence.

He didn’t think they were quite ready for that, living together, but there would come a time when they would be and this was great practice.

“Hey,” he greeted the other man. “How was work?”

Hart made a sound and shrugged off his burgundy jacket before dropping onto the couch next to Demming and moving into his arms. Demming wrapped an arm around him, his chin pressed to the top of Hart’s head as he smoothed a hand up and down his back.

“Are you okay?”

Hart released him and sat back, propping both legs up onto the coffee table, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. Tension bled from the lines of his body and Demming touched his knee nearest him, squeezing gently.

“Talk to me,” he murmured.

“They’re threatening to take us to court. I told them we would be going in another direction and they threatened legal action, some bullshit about me fucking up the contract—which, by the way, gives me a clear out if I choose within a certain timeframe, that I’m still within.” His voice rose. “Those motherfuckers…This could tie me up in litigation and hold up the entire project. Which they damn well know.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” It’d been on Demming’s suggestion that he’d decided to go somewhere else and look what happened. “Maybe I shouldn’t have—”

Hart shook his head, eyes popping open to settle on Demming. “No. This was the right move for me. I’m just…” He exhaled. “Frustrated. And pissed. I’ve never wanted to play dirty like my father. That’s not me, but I’m going to have to in this instance.”

Demming stroked his thigh and leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to his temple. “You do what you have to.”

Hart blew out a breath and Demming watched as his shoulders eased. “What about you?” Hart asked. “How was dinner with your mom?”

“It was good.” He dragged his knuckles down Hart’s cheek. “She wants to meet you.” Hart’s eyes went wide in alarm and Demming had to bite back a smile. “When you’re ready.”

Hart’s shoulders slumped. “I want to meet her, I do. I just—” He shook his head. “Not now, okay?”

“I get it,” Demming reassured him. “Like I said, when you’re ready.” Hart leaned into him and Demming hugged him to his chest, pressing distracted kisses to the top of his head. Taking a breath, he steeled himself then said, “I have to go away for a bit.” Hart stiffened in his arms. “For a job.”

The other man eased out of his hold, putting space between them as he frowned. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be taking jobs—”

“I didn’t have a choice.” He’d never said no to Renzo before, and though they were friends, he didn’t want to know what would happen should he start. “I couldn’t turn this one down.”

Hart pushed to his feet and stood over him, face ashen. “So you’re leaving, just like that?” The words were angry, but raw hurt stared back at Demming from his eyes.

Demming wished he could take it away. “It’s only for a few days, I promise. It’s-It’s not out of the country.” He pressed his lips together to keep from sharing more in an effort to reassure Hart.

“How long have you been planning this?”

Demming glanced away. “A few months.”

Hart let out a harsh laugh. “So the entirety of our relationship then.” That didn’t require a response. “And you’ve said nothing, kept it a secret. Why?”

“I’m sorry.” Demming reached for him, but Hart stepped away. Hurt bloomed in Demming’s chest. “I didn’t—I don’t usually discuss my jobs and—”

“You’re in a relationship now!” Hart’s voice rose. “I deserved to know something. I deserve more than you dropping this on me just as you’re about to leave.” He stopped, narrowed his eyes. “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow.”

Hart released a broken chuckle. “Wow.” He snatched up his jacket and headed for the door, yanking it open.

“Hart, come on.” Demming jumped to his feet, chasing after him. “Talk to me.”

Hart stopped and spun around, gaze pinning Demming in place. “Talk to you like you talked to me?”

“Babe, I couldn’t.”

Hart rolled his eyes. “I’m not asking for details about what you’re doing and how you’re doing it, but a few fucking sentences months ago, telling me that you have a job lined up, that you’re prepping for one, would have been great. That way I would be prepared.” He shook his head, defeated. “I don’t have time for this right now, Sawyer. I’m too busy to deal with your shit. I have my own.”

Fuck. “Don’t go. Please.”

“If I ask you the same thing, not to go, will you stay?”

Demming’s heart clenched. “I can’t. I would if I could, Hart. I’m sorry. Try to understand.” He grabbed Hart’s elbow, but Hart shook him off.

“I understand your job, Sawyer. That is not the issue. It’s that you’d keep it all a secret and do this now when I need—” He blanched. “I gotta get out of here.”

“Shit. Hart, wait.”

But he left.

Hart didn’t answer any of his calls that night. The next morning, Demming went to his office, where he was denied entry, so he waited until that evening when he figured Hart would be home and drove to his apartment. He knocked on the door to no answer until he finally threw in the towel and left after almost an hour. He drove to his mother’s, heaving a sigh when he saw Bryce’s car in the driveway.

His brother wasn’t anywhere in sight when he let himself in so that was a relief. He found his mother in her bedroom, where she bade him enter after a knock on the door. She sat in bed reading, glasses perched on her nose. She peered at him over the top of the rectangular black frames.

“Sawyer, I didn’t know you were coming over. Why didn’t you call?” she asked as he pressed a kiss to her temple then sank onto the edge of the bed.

“I just, I wanted to let you know I’m going to be leaving tomorrow.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “Does your young man know?”

“He does.” He didn’t do a good job hiding the glumness from his voice and she caught it, lifting an eyebrow.

“How is he handling it?”

In the early days of him working as a mercenary, his mother had been deathly afraid for him, crying every time he left. It took a lot of years of him coming back home alive and safe each time for her to put the worry off to the side. He knew she still worried, but if it was as bad as back then, she’d learned to mask it expertly.

“Hart is—He didn’t take it well.” It was all a blur in his mind, the ache inside. Shell shock from how quickly things had gone from good to this.

“What happened?”

He told her and she listened, speaking only when he was done. “Honey, you know you should have told him something before now. How could you wait until the last minute to drop the news on him? This is the man you love, you can’t keep it all to yourself like you did before. A relationship can’t flourish like that.”

He barely heard her after the L word. Love. Did he love Hart? Is that why he felt so empty, why his chest ached so badly? Was that it?

“Hey, Mom, where did I put—” Bryce stopped in the doorway. “Oh, didn’t know you were here.”

“I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“Hmm.”

“I’ll still be in the country,” he told them both. “It should only be for a few days.”

* * *

The job took longerthan he’d anticipated. Demming couldn’t help the burn of frustration that settled in his gut. He’d picked up his phone over a dozen times to call Hart but forced himself not to.

It was impossible to do anything while worrying that the man he loved—because yes, he did love Hart—thought he’d abandoned him. That he didn’t care. Whatever he was thinking, Demming needed to fix it and he couldn’t do that shit from San Diego.

Still, the job went smoothly. They’d been hired by a nameless, faceless someone Renzo had put Demming in touch with to recover a cache of jewels stolen from their employer’s parents. And after waiting around for longer than they’d intended, they finally got it done.

They were out, free and clear of the building with no one knowing they’d been there in the first place…when Henry realized he’d dropped something.

He refused to leave without it, some good luck token his fiancé had given him. Talking him out of going back into the building they’d just exited was impossible and he headed back in despite their pleas to come the fuck on.

Temple chased after him while Demming ground his teeth in frustration.

“This shit is unacceptable,” he barked to the others who waited with him. “We’re not doing this again, I’m telling you that right—”

The pop-pop of gunshots stopped his words in their tracks and he was on his feet moments later, he and the others rushing into the building, skidding to a halt at the sight of Temple on his knees with Henry cradled in his arms.

A dead guard lay feet away.

Demming knew, before he stepped any closer to Temple, from the sounds that tore through him as he clung to his friend, that Henry was dead.