Chapter 5: The ashes we live in

The day was too bright for how wrecked Riven felt inside. His skin buzzed with the weight of last night’s dream, the photo album still burned behind his eyes, and Kael’s name clung to the back of his throat like smoke he couldn’t cough out.

He wasn’t ready to confront him..not yet,

but the universe didn’t wait for readiness.

Because there he was. Kael was standing outside the bar just off Main, laughing with someone.

Riven stood still on the sidewalk, breath catching like he’d been slapped. The man next to Kael was tall, tan, and tattooed, with a cocky smile and a backwards hat. He leaned into Kael too easily, touched his shoulder like it meant something. And Kael didn’t pull away.

Jealousy wasn’t something Riven liked admitting to. But it bloomed inside him anyway, slow and sour like poison spreading in his chest.

He tightened his grip on the envelope in his hands — the one holding all the photos and old evidence he’d found.

Before he could take a step, a hand tapped his shoulder from behind.

“Jesus!” Riven jumped. The envelope slipped, photos spilling across the sidewalk like a shuffled secret.

“Oops,” Ari Hollis said, crouching down beside him with a grin. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Thought you saw me.”

“I didn’t,” Riven muttered, grabbing the photos quickly, trying to gather them before Ari could see anything.

Too late. Ari’s eyes caught the glimpse of faces and skin — maybe Kael’s, maybe his own. Riven shoved everything back into the envelope, pulse pounding in his ears.

Ari tilted his head. “Were those yearbook shots or porno stills?”

“Neither,” Riven snapped, then softened his tone. “Just old stuff. Family stuff. Doesn’t matter.”

Ari didn’t look convinced, but he let it go. “You watching Kael and Trey?”

Riven’s entire body tensed.

“Trey owns that bar,” Ari went on. “He and Kael are kind of inseparable. Been like that since forever. But don’t worry — Trey’s got zero success rate with Kael. Pretty sure no one’s cracked that guy open.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Kael’s never let anyone in. Not like that.”

Riven blinked. Heat crept up the back of his neck. He glanced back toward the bar.

Kael and Trey were gone.

He muttered a goodbye and took off down the street,to go confront Kael..fists clenched, the envelope shoved tight under his arm. 

Kael was sanding something, shirt damp with sweat, headphones in. He looked up when the door bell rang. Riven crossed the room in four strides and slammed the envelope down hard on the workbench.

Kael pulled off his headphones slowly.

“What’s this?”

“You tell me,” Riven said, stepping back with arms folded.

Kael opened the envelope and pulled out a photo. 

Silence spread through the room like fog.

“So?” Riven demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me? That we’d met. That we...”

Kael met his eyes. “You really didn’t remember.”

“No. But now I do. Bits enough.”

Kael looked away, jaw tightening. “What do you want me to say? That it didn’t hurt when you pretended I didn’t exist?”

Riven’s voice cracked. “I was scared. I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn't know how I ended up denying you. You mattered so much, and I didn’t even matter to myself yet.”

Kael looked back at him, eyes burning. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

Riven stepped closer. “You’re still pretending you don’t want me. You look at me like you hate me, but last night you couldn’t stop touching me.”

Kael moved first, rough and fast. 

His fist caught Riven’s shirt, dragged him forward, and then their mouths collided.

Riven moaned, grabbing Kael’s back as the workbench dug into his spine. Kael shoved him hard against the wall, mouth wild and demanding, teeth grazing his jaw, hands sliding beneath his shirt.

Riven arched, gasping. “Fuck, Kael...”

Kael’s fingers dug into his hip. “You always said my name like that.”

“Then fuck me like you used to.”

Kael growled low in his throat, and the button on Riven’s jeans popped open under his fingers.

But then the barge in the door interrupted them.

It was loud and urgent. Followed by a man screaming and alarming them…

“Fire! There’s a fire!”

They pulled apart. Rushed for the door and threw it open.

Smoke was already rising through the trees. Black and thick.

Kael’s breath caught. “That’s your house.”

*****

The firetruck came late….too late..

By the time they arrived, the house was already gone.

Riven stood in Kael’s driveway, arms crossed, ash tangled in his curls. He didn’t say a word.

Sheriff Dean Briggs arrived like he owned the air. His boots hit the gravel too loud, his eyes too sharp.

“We’ll look into it,” he said, gaze unreadable. “Might be arson. Might not.”

Riven didn’t believe him…but Kael didn’t utter a word. 

By sundown, Riven had a duffel over one shoulder and Old Lady Bea Lark standing on Kael’s porch with a basket of muffins.

“Oh! You must be Riven,” she said brightly. “You’re moving in, aren’t you? Please do. Lord knows Kael needs company.”

She leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And by the way — make sure he gets some, mm? Poor thing’s probably got sperm cramps by now.”

Riven choked hard…

Kael turned red. “Bea. Jesus”. She winked. “What? I said what I said.”

______

That night, Kael laid down the rules.

“No coming into my room without knocking. No touching my tools. And stay on your side of the damn house.”

“Fine,” Riven said, leaning against the kitchen counter. “But you can’t stop looking at me.”

Kael didn’t answer. He just walked away…

---

The next morning, the bell over the workshop door rang.

Kael didn’t look up from the table.

“Can I help you?” he called, voice clipped.

Riven turned his head and saw two figures standing in the doorway.

Harlow and Roman.

Both of them were staring straight at him.