The Last Tour {COMPLETED}

Chapter Twenty-Two: Through It Alone

Chapter Twenty-Two

Through It Alone

Jade Leeman didn't know exactly what he had been expecting when he parked in front of the house he had called home all his life and walked up to the front door. Perhaps the thought had not even crossed his mind. Going home was automatic. That rotting old house was where he belonged.

Jade pressed his house key into the lock, then turned it. He opened the door and walked inside, then quietly shut the door behind himself. Then, shifting his weight uncomfortably against his crutch, he looked up.

To the left, the kitchen light was on, and a few yards in front of him, sitting on the stairway, was Mathew. The man was silently swinging a glass bottle between his thumb and forefinger and he looked up at Jade with blood-shot eyes and drunken curiosity.

"Bitch's back," he announced, then lifted the bottle to his lips and took a sip from it. His eyes scanned Jade up and down. "What happened to you?" he asked, a slight smile twitching his lips.

"Hurt my knee," Jade replied softly. He moved forward slowly, intending to somehow bypass Mathew on the stairway and go up to his room.

"Damn, Jade," Mathew commented. "I keep thinking you're smart enough to know you're too much of a little thing to go playing rough with the big boys."

"I was dragged into a railing," Jade said, the explanation leaving his lips as a muttered whisper. He halted, a foot from Mathew, hoping the man would get the hint to move aside and let him pass.

"After you left, I honestly wasn't sure you were gonna come back," Mathew said slowly. He eyed Jade.

"I was on tour, I didn't run away," Jade whispered.

Mathew ignored him. "But yet, here you are...And I have to ask, why did you come back?"

"This is my home." Jade's voice was gradually growing fainter and fainter, becoming only barely audible.

"That's just disgusting," Mathew sighed. He shook his head. "It's like you don't care, it's like—you know what it's like, Jade?" He looked up at the teenager. "It's like that fucking bar bitch I had over here while you were gone. She fucked with me all night, then said she hated me and left the next morning." He swallowed another mouthful of liquor. "Next night, she comes back and begs me to let her in for more. Had to chase her off with my fucking pistol..." He sighed. "That's why I don't fuck whores, because once you do them once, you can't ever get rid of them...even if they leave, they're still in your damn head." He shook his head. "Like you, Jade. You're just like those bar bitches, you come back like some dog begging for more."

"I—I'm not," Jade said quickly. "I don't want that." He took an unsteady step backward.

Mathew tilted his head slightly. "Lift up your shirt."

"Please, I'm tired," Jade said softly.

"Well lift up your goddamn shirt or I'll make you even more fucking tired," Mathew threatened, a cynically amused smile spreading across his face.

Jade swallowed. He dropped a trembling hand to the hem of his shirt, then slowly drew it up, just to his waistline.

"God..." Mathew said slowly. He took another drink from his bottle, then put it down on the stair beside him. He stood up. "How the fucking hell did you get a waist this fucking hot?" He stepped toward the teenager, completely ignoring the way Jade hurriedly attempted to move away. Mathew put both his hands on Jade's waist, then moved them up along Jade's body, under his shirt, to his chest. He let out a heavy sigh. "Your nipples are hard, Baby." He dropped his hands from Jade's body, then pointed to a mildew-darkened sofa in the center of the living room. "Get on that."