Scars [Ashton Irwin]

Chapter Twenty-Six

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX:

McKenzie's POV

It was one of those conversations. The ones that never end. Those conversations that make you realise that falling in love could become your reality. One of those conversations.

There were no rose petals, no sunset on the beach, or champagne. No romantic setting where couples in movies fall in love. Just Ashton and I. Me and Ashton, talking like we had never spoken before. It was almost safe to say that I was so much more comfortable because he knew so much already. He opened up to me and told me more about his childhood.

"So, when did you find out that you were adopted?" I asked. We were lying on his bed with a light blanket covering our naked bodies.

"I always knew." He said. "I was three when it happened. I still had memories of my real mother."

"Do you still remember her?"

"I found her." He said, surprising me. "She's in prison, but she's still my mother. I visit occasionally."

"Why is she in prison?" I asked out of sheer curiosity.

"Simply put, she got involved with the wrong crowd." He said, and I thought that he would elaborate further, but he did no such.

"Does Cassidy know?"

"I think its best if she doesn't."

"Don't you think that should be her choice?"

"Cassidy's mother is Anne."

"Is she not your mother?"

"No. She raised me. My mother is Ashley Smith. Cassidy doesn't remember her, she was an infant when we were taken in by Anne and George. But I remembered her. I always did. For a while, I wouldn't even let Anne touch me. I hated her, and I hated my mother for giving us away. You can't make a three year old understand the situation that she was in. I thought that she hated us. But as I grew older, I began to understand. I always had dreams of her singing to me and tucking me into bed at night. I drew crappy pictures of her to hold on to that memory.

When George left Anne when I was almost thirteen, I realised that I had to take care of her and Cassidy. I was told that I was the man of the house, and the girls needed protecting. But I still had something at the back of my mind telling me that I didn't belong. I wanted my real mother, and at times when I was a teenager, I would lash out at Anne when she reprimanded me because I believed that she didn't have the right to yell at me because she wasn't my mother. I loved her even though I couldn't really remember her. I always loved her more that I could ever love Anne." He explained, and my heart swelled at the amount of love expressed for a woman who didn't even raise him.

"How did you find her?" I asked.

"When I was seventeen and had just joined the band, I realised that there was a part of me missing. I had always wanted to look for her, but I took it seriously that year. I contacted newspapers, wrote letters to magazines and websites, until I finally found a lead. Someone who works at Long Bay Correctional Centre told me that she was there. I wrote a letter, but never got a reply, so I decided to go there and see her myself. She told me that she hadn't gotten the letter, and we both cried for the entire half an hour. She couldn't touch me, and that hurt her more than anything else.

She asked about Cassidy and I told her that we were both doing okay. I told her about Anne and George. He was the only father that I knew, so I looked up to him and I appreciated him. When he died, Long Bay was the first place that I went to, seeking comfort from my real mother. She could empathise with me because her own father had died from cancer. I remember her telling me to shave when I had gone through my growing a beard phase because George had one, and I wouldn't listen to Anne when she told me to shave."

"You grew a beard? I can't picture you with a beard." I commented, trying my level best to lighten the mood.

"I looked ridiculous." He chuckled.

"I like you with stubble."

"I think you just like me naked."

* * *

Lately, Ashton had become a sex animal. Every time we were together, clothes seemed to disappear. It was like he had taken a fistful of Viagra and was now permanently aroused. Even when I tried making conversation with him, he would begin kissing my collarbone, or making dirty comments. One would say that we were like rabbits.

I was starting to believe that Ashton was testing the theory of my incompetent womb. In the past four days, we had forgotten to use a condom twice. This would result in a short argument between us, and it would only end in Ashton laying me down and having his way with me -with the use of a condom.

We were inseparable. A list had been written down of all the interesting places in which we had done it in. He claimed that he would frame it and hang it up in our house one day. Luke and Cassidy were trying to be subtle about their relationship, which was not working out because we all knew what was going on.

Things felt a little tense every time Ashton and I hung out with the rest of the band. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, and every time I asked Ashton about it, he dismissed it or deliberately avoided the question. I felt like they were all hiding something, and I was the centre of a joke. Although I knew that Ashton could never do anything to hurt me, I couldn't help feeling insecure.

I spoke to Doctor Jacobs about the situation with Ashton's band mates, and she suggested that maybe they were only planning something for my birthday and don't want to ruin the surprise. I kept that in mind and tried to get excited for my birthday, but I also knew disappointment and didn't want to get my hopes up.

The morning of my birthday, I woke up to the smell of pancakes and Cuban coffee. When there was a knock on my bedroom door, I expected my mother, but in came Ashton instead with a stack of pancakes and a giant mug of coffee. I smiled, and he handed me the tray, my mother entering the room after we had shared a short kiss. She gave me a hug and a kiss on the forehead, wishing me a happy birthday before handing me the phone. I hadn't even put the phone to my ear when I heard a group of people shouting happy birthday. I immediately recognised the voices and smiled.

After a short and interesting call with my brother and his band mates, I turned my attention back to Ashton and his pancakes. I noticed a giant squiggly one drawn on the top pancake and laughed.

"Ashton, I'm eighteen." I laughed.

"Oh, shit. I forget the eight." He murmured. "But you get the point. Happy womb escaping day, babe." He said, connecting our lips in a swift kiss.

"When did you get here?" I asked after taking a large bite of my breakfast.

"About an hour ago. You're adorable when you're asleep."

"Stalker much?" I laughed and he grabbed a pancake, making himself comfortable on my bed.

"So, what are we doing today?" He asked, and I felt my heart drop slightly at the realisation that he probably had nothing planned.

"I don't know. I was going to ask you Mr. Romantic."

"Glad you asked. Finish that, lets shower and get going."

"First, I am not showering with you. Second, where are we going?" I asked, and he did not respond. He only sat there smirking at me like a giant doofus.

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Author's Note

Sugar ...yes please!

I felt like updating because I'm tired of studying. I want Ashton pancakes!

xxx McRee Black