Asher (21 page)

“Hey, I... um.” Audrey blushes and ducks her head. She looks so cute. “I’ll be back later, okay?”

I struggle to sit up and I watch her leave, fighting rising panic.

Jesus, Ash. She’ll be back.
No reason why I should feel so cold without her in my arms. She’s come back before. I have to trust her.

Zane shakes his head, the half-smile still in place.

“You said something about a social worker?” I let the male nurse manhandle me to check the stitches on my side and lower back. “Is she coming by today?”

“No.” Zane rubs the back of his neck. “About that. It won’t be necessary.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

The doctor chooses this moment to come in and I have to lie back down for the examination. Between being prodded in painful spots and asked questions about my vision, the headaches, dizziness, nausea, pain levels and everything in between, I have to let go of Zane’s comment for the moment.

The doctor pronounces me fit to go. He also tells me in no uncertain terms that under no circumstances am I to fight in the foreseeable future and that hitting my head repeatedly is a sure way to find myself in a wheelchair some years down the line.

Hell.
That’s one scary image.

A nurse brings the discharge papers to the room for me to sign. Zane has brought me some of his clothes, and as the nurse helps me off the bed and into the jeans and T-shirt, I try to hide from everyone how shaken I am by the doctor’s warning.

Then again, the lingering dizziness takes care of that. Zane is more concerned about keeping me from falling on my face than anything else as the nurse pulls me off the bed and onto the wheelchair.

It also seems that just getting up causes my headache to go off the damn charts, so that it’s all I can do not to clutch my head and moan as the nurse wheels me out of the room. Instead, I do my best to straighten and sit upright as I’m wheeled down endless corridors.

“Audrey?” I manage.

Zane, who’s walking beside the wheelchair, glances at me and smiles. “She’ll borrow Tessa’s car and wait for us in the parking lot.”

That eases some of the stupid panic.

The nurse leads me to a smaller waiting area, next to a row of plastic chairs, and takes his leave.

Then Zane leaves as well, saying he’ll take care of the payment paperwork. So I sit and let my eyes drift shut, trying to ignore my throbbing head.

I don’t know how long I sit there, listening to the sounds of people walking about and talking, the distant cries of a baby, the deep cough of a man.

The row of seats beside me creaks. Someone has sat down.

“Ash.”

I almost jump out of my skin. “Tyler.” I raise my head. “I thought you left.”

“Don’t worry, little brother, I’m leaving.” There’s bitterness in his voice, but frankly, what does he expect? “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

I glance at him. Tyler’s four years older, broader and taller than me. His hair’s longer than mine, the ends brushing his collar, and he wears a blue shirt and well worn jeans over black boots. I catch another glimpse of his tat, the lines crawling up his neck.

He looks like crap. His dark eyes are shadowed, the bags underneath telling me he hasn’t slept well in days.

Then again, he came over because Dad died and... Yeah, I don’t believe for a second he’s come for me. And if he has, it’s too late.

I wait for him to get up and go, since he’s said his goodbyes, but he doesn’t. He presses his thumbs into his red-rimmed eyes. “I was wrong, Ash. I realize that now. I really thought that if I left, you’d be okay. Stupid of me, I see that in retrospect. But I can’t change the past. I get that you don’t know me anymore, and you don’t trust me. I deserve that.”

I listen to him talk and anger flares again, heating my chest. “If you’re waiting for me to say it’s okay, then you’re wasting your time.”

He flinches. Running a hand through his dark hair, he grunts and shrugs. “Yeah. I see. I’m going now. I just wanted to let you know that you’re not gonna be left on the streets again, not on my watch. I’ve talked to Zane and I’ve opened an account in your name. I’m not rich, but you’ll have a monthly allowance until you find your feet. For as long as that takes, Ash.”

He gets up quickly and gives me an uncertain smile. “I never forgot you. I just thought you were better off without me. I’ll see you at Dad’s funeral.”

And he turns and goes before I can formulate a response. Groaning, I clutch the armrests of the wheelchair and scrunch my eyes shut.

I don’t know how I feel about Tyler anymore. It confuses the hell out of me. I was furious with him for leaving, and his sudden appearance hasn’t done anything to appease that fury. If anything, it has laced it with renewed resentment, throwing me back into time to relive the moment he abandoned me—right before Mom died and Dad went off the rails.

His concern, his regret, his offers—they leave me reeling. My fury’s now tainted with curiosity and sympathy. Even sorrow. It isn’t pure. Isn’t sharp. It doesn’t help me get over anything, only sinks me deeper into grief.

***

Coming out of the hospital in the icy breeze and seeing Audrey in her blue coat is like seeing the sun after a polar night. Pressure lifts from my chest and the pain in my side and head eases.

The panic begins to fade, especially when she smiles. She’s standing next to Tessa’s Jeep. She opens the car door and Zane rolls me over to her. Together they pull me up and settle me inside.

It’s damn embarrassing, needing help to get into the Jeep. The doctor has assured me that the dizziness will pass, but with the world constantly sliding away from me and the pain in my side, even simple tasks like that defeat me.

Zane is uncharacteristically silent during the ride and I’m not in the mood to talk, either. I wonder if he’s talked to Tyler, or if something else is bothering him.

All I want is to find myself alone with Audrey, wrap myself around her and forget about the world and the black hole that’s currently my life.

There’s another frustrating moment when I have to be helped out of the parked Jeep and up to Audrey’s apartment. And then another when I remember my duffel bag is lost and I don’t even have a change of clothes.

I admit as much to Zane as Audrey goes ahead and opens the apartment door. She smiles at me from the opening.

“Let’s get you inside,” Zane says. He leads me to the couch and settles me down, then perches across from me in the armchair. “Ash. Listen to me, fucker.”

I glance up, trying to get out of the dark fugue. “What?”

“Stop sweating the small stuff, okay? The underwear, the T-shirts, the toothbrush. I’ll get that for you. No, listen first,” he says when I open my mouth to protest. “I let you down. It shouldn’t have mattered that Erin has a problem with your family and isn’t happy when you crash at my place. I should have told you that. I should have made sure you had a place to stay. I’m the worst friend on the damn planet. Yeah, I have trouble in my life, but that’s no excuse for not seeing how hard things were for you. And this, getting you the basic stuff, is the least I can do.”

I gape at him as his monologue winds to an end, and I lift my hand to stop him when he seems about to launch into another. “Z-man, shut up. You’ve been the only real friend I’ve ever had. You save my sorry ass on a regular basis. You have nothing to apologize for.”

He shakes his head. “Yeah, whatever. One more thing: you don’t have to stay here. I swear it will be okay if you crash at my place. I’ll talk to Erin. No big deal. Seriously, fucker.”

So that’s what eats at Zane: guilt. That’s wrong on so many levels I can’t even. “I’m fine here.”

And the truth is, I really feel fine. Cozy. Welcome. Audrey’s puttering in the kitchenette and she turns to shoot me a smile. It makes me feel warm. “And you have nothing to feel bad about. You’ve done all you fucking could. It’s my fault things have come to this. I already told Audrey what I’m telling you now: I should have told you guys what was happening. I shouldn’t have tried to fix things on my own.”

Zane turns his face away, his jaw clenching. Then he nods, gets up and leaves. It’s as if he’s running away, and I can’t help noticing his shoulders are shaking.

Dammit.
I’ve made my best friend cry and I’m not even sure if it’s in a good or a bad way. I should go after him but my head’s still swimming. Breaking my neck trying to reach him probably won’t make him feel any better.

I’ll call him later.

Audrey comes into the living room with a tray, trailing a scent of freshly-brewed coffee and sugar. She places steaming cups and a plate of cake on the table and sits next to me.

“Thank you,” I say, figuring out I can start with her before I get onto to Zane. “For everything. For searching for me, believing me, staying with me.” I catch her hand in mine and stroke my thumb over her soft skin. “For taking me in.”

She ducks her head, her red hair streaming on her shoulders, and her green eyes sparkle. Leaning over, she kisses me—a chaste little touch of her lips that nevertheless burns like fire and sends lightning through my veins. And then she says the most amazing thing:

“Welcome home.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Audrey

Having Asher in my apartment, in my life, is overwhelming. Now I’ve stopped hiding behind my insecurities, old hurts and the pain of losing Dad, now I have Ash back from the dead, I can’t stop touching him to make sure he’s here, alive and well.

Despite my excitement, I realize things won’t be so easy, at least at first. Ash needs help moving about, and the doctor has warned me he still has dizzy spells. Plus he’s exhausted and I decide to make him comfortable on the sofa, where he dozes for most of the day. Passes out, practically. I have a suspicion the painkillers the doctor prescribed knock him out.

Zane comes by at some point to drop a few things for Ash—some clothes that look brand new, the labels still attached, and an unopened toothbrush and toothpaste, shampoo and a shaving kit. He also brings Ash’s cell phone.

I put everything away and return to find Zane standing by the door, watching Ash sleep. Ash half-lies on his good side on the couch—his better side, since one was sliced and the other busted—one hand hanging off the sofa, the other flung over his head. The swelling in his face has barely begun to go down and the bruises are still dark and stark against his pale skin.

“Thanks for offering this to him,” Zane says when he sees me.

“It’s the least I can do. I have the space, and...” My cheeks heat. “I do care for him, Zane, so you can stop worrying I’ll sucker-punch him or kick him in the balls.”

Zane winces. “I wasn’t worried about that.” He snorts. “I was gonna say I wasn’t worried at all, but I’d be lying.”

I chew on my lower lip. “Tell me what’s on your mind.” Zane is always straightforward and honest. I wonder what I’m about to hear.

“It’s just that...” He hesitates. “I told you before, Audrey. He’s been in love with you for such a long time. And now he’s with you. Look at him. He looks relaxed. At ease. Happy.”

“He looks tired,” I say.

“He
is
tired. But he didn’t think twice about coming here to stay, and now he’s asleep on your couch.”

I don’t share with Zane my theories about the kick-ass painkillers, because I think he has a point. “Aren’t you glad for him that he’s comfortable and happy here with me?”

“Fuck yeah.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “But you hardly know him anymore. What if you’re at each other’s throats within days?”

I shrug. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

“That’s it? Whatever, girl.” Zane grimaces.

“What is it, Zane?”

“You know how it is hoping for something for so long? For years? Reaching for it even if you know you can’t have it? Measuring everything and everyone around you against that perfect original and having everything and everyone fall short? And then one day, bam, you get the original, you get what you’d hoped for.”

“And what?” Apprehension fills me. “What are you saying? That now he has me, he’ll find me lacking? That I wasn’t what he’d hoped for?”

“No. Oh fuck, I’m so bad at explaining myself.” Zane sighs. “What I meant was, what if it doesn’t work out? What if you find
he
wasn’t what you thought? He has you on a pedestal, Audrey. If you left him now, you’d break the fucker’s heart.”

“Zane, shut up.”

He mouth falls open.

I almost laugh aloud at his expression. “I’ve loved Ash for so long I can hardly remember a time I didn’t. Yes, he hurt me when he avoided me at school, but now I know what was going on in his life at the time, and I understand. Since I moved here, he’s been nothing short of wonderful to me, and the more I know about him, the more I love him. So, here’s the thing: I can’t guarantee that this will work out. I can’t promise I won’t break Ash’s heart or he won’t break mine. But I can tell you this: he’s everything I’ve hoped for and more.”

Zane stares at me, his dark eyes wide. His pierced brow lifts. “Hell. All right then. I’ll shut up now.”

I smile and glance again at Ash. He always draws me, gaze and mind and body. A man-sized, gorgeous magnet. I’d love to draw him as he sleeps, to pencil in the shadow of his dark lashes against his cheekbones, the clear line of his jaw, his soft lips.

As I watch him, his eyes begin to move rapidly under his lids and his body tenses. Making my way to the couch, I say, “Want to stay and have coffee with us?”

“I think I’d rather leave you,” Zane mutters. “Unless you need help moving Ash to the bed.”

“I’ll manage,” I say, sitting next to Ash and stroking his hair.

“It’s New Year’s Eve. I guess I’ll have to wish you Happy New Year right now.”

New Year’s Eve. I didn’t even realize with everything going on. “Are you guys doing something tonight?”

“You kidding me?” He runs his hands over his face. “After what happened to Ash, I don’t feel like celebrating.”

“Maybe you should. It’s going to be a great year.”

As Ash relaxes under my hand and wraps his arm around my waist, murmuring my name, I believe it.

***

I wake up curled against Ash on the sofa. We never made it to bed after all, as he was out cold and I was too exhausted to even think about moving him. Ash is a tall, heavy guy and I don’t think I can lift him.

Right now he has his arms around me and is gazing at me, his beautiful arctic eyes hooded. “Morning,” he says, the rasp of his voice raising goose bumps all over my skin.

“Happy New Year,” I say and see those bright eyes widen a fraction.

“I think...” His arms around me tighten. “I missed a few days.”

I almost laugh at that. “Yeah, you did.”

He lowers his face toward me. “I want to make up for lost time.” And he kisses me, slow and teasing, opening my mouth with the tip of his tongue, invading me.

My whole body quavers. He still smells of the hospital and I should be worried about his wounds and bruises, but like always my thoughts flee when he begins to touch me, his hand sliding down to cup my ass and knead it.

He’s still dressed in his jeans and T-shirt, but I stripped down to my flimsy pajama bottoms and a spaghetti-strap blouse last night. My breasts press against his chest and my nipples tighten. The friction sends frissons down my spine and he moans into the kiss, pressing a very healthy and large erection against my thigh.

Breaking the kiss, he tugs on my blouse, pulling it over my head, leaving my breasts exposed. In a flash, he has me on my back, leaning over me, and his gaze sparkles. His mouth tilts in the most beautiful smile and he bends to suckle on my breasts, taking his time on each one, licking and sucking until I think I’ll explode into a million tiny pieces.

He draws back and pulls off my pajama bottoms and panties, leaving me bare to his scrutiny. He brushes his hands over my legs.

Then he stops. I open my eyes that fell closed at some point and look up at him. He has sat back, his face pale and sweat beading on his forehead.

“Ash?”

He presses a hand to his ribs. “I’m all right. Give me a minute.”

Shit.
“You’re not all right. Just... sit down.” I scramble up and push on a solid, muscled shoulder until he relents and leans against the backrest, letting his head drop back.

“Come here,” he says and reaches for me.

Swallowing the knot of worry in my throat, I scoot closer and let him pull me to his side. “You should take it easy. Does it hurt?”

He chuckles low. It’s a nice, deep-throated sound that warms me up from the inside. “What hurts the most is how much I want you.”

He shifts and lets go of his ribs to adjust himself through the pants, drawing my gaze to the still considerable bulge at the front. The sight of it makes me feel so hot I’m about to self-combust.

I want to peel off his clothes, touch his strong body, his straining hardness. But he’s hurt and I shouldn’t. My hand trails down his side to the front of his jeans to cup the hot package there.

A groan leaves his lips and his eyes slit. “Auds...”

“You don’t have to move,” I say, unable to hold back anymore. Only Ash can make me so bold, so desperate to touch him. “Close your eyes.”

A dark brow lifts and he gives me a crooked smile that lifts my heart. “Wanna be in charge?”

“No, I...” I lick my lips. “I want to take care of you. You’re really hot, Asher Devlin, and I want to unwrap you like a Christmas present.”

His expression softens. With a sigh, he leans his head back and closes his eyes, leaving me to unbutton his jeans and pull them down, tugging them off with his underwear and socks.

I climb up beside him on the couch. Under the hem of his T-shirt I see the bandage going around his back, and the bruises. I want to make him feel good. He shivers when I wrap my hand around his cock. His mouth falls open, a breath gusting past his lips when I move my fist up and down, stroking him the way he showed me.

“I want you,” he rasps, his hands clenching at his sides. He grabs my wrist. “Auds, I need... Shit.” He lets go. “Sorry. You don’t have to—”

I bend over and draw the head of his cock into my mouth. I hear him groan as I play with my tongue underneath and then suck on his saltiness. Glancing up, I see his face twist in a grimace that looks so much like pain I have to stop.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Is this hurting you?”

“No.” He hisses when I stroke him again. “No pain.” He reaches for me, wraps an arm around me and drags me gently until I straddle him. His cock juts between us, wet and flushed dark. “Need to be inside you.”

His eyes sear through me, his desire evident. Could this work? I want him inside me, too; want the connection to believe he’s right here with me. Taking a deep breath, I rise on my knees.

“Fuck, I don’t have a condom.” Ash is still holding my hips and his grip is like a vise. His brow creases. “Shit. We can’t.”

“No need.” I put my hands over his. “I’m on the pill.”

Something seems to snap in Ash then, because he lifts me and lowers me on top of his erection in one movement that has to hurt his ribs. He doesn’t seem to notice, his laser-hot gaze on my face, cataloguing every sensation mirrored there as I take him in, inch by inch. It’s an amazing sensation, knowing that he’s inside of me.

When I’m seated in his lap, full of him, he lets out a sharp breath, his teeth gritting. “Shit, Auds, you’re so tight.” He blows out air and visibly tries to hold still. “Are you okay?”

I want him to let go, not to worry about me. To let go and do what feels good for him.

And he feels amazing in my core, stretching me, stroking me so deep. I shift and he groans, arching backward. His hips roll, lifting me up, and the slight push inside sends sparks up my back and makes my nipples harden more.

I put my hands on his broad shoulders and lift myself, then again, setting a rhythm that has us both writhing and moaning. I can feel the pressure mounting, liquid fire running in my veins, the pleasure filling my head with white noise.

“Oh god. So hot... So good.” Ash’s body tenses, the muscles in his legs taut and quivering. His fingers dig into my hips but he doesn’t do anything. Letting me take charge.

Tendons stand out in his neck and he’s looking at me through his long lashes, his gaze burning.

That look sends me over the edge. The pressure peaks, the pleasure sharpens and fireworks go off in my sight.

I shake and cry out as my body clenches around him. He swears, then, and snaps his hips upward, slamming deeper into me than ever, so that my mouth opens in one more wordless cry of pleasure.

A throaty moan leaves his lips as his cock swells inside me and then jerks, rocking me with aftershocks. Sweat rolls down his temples, and his hips buck beneath me once, twice, then once more.

He finally stills, panting harshly, his frame trembling. He lifts his hands to my ribs and pulls me so I rest on his chest, my head on his shoulder, his nose in my hair.

We’re still connected, and I know it’s in so many ways more than just two bodies drawing out the last drops of pleasure.

“Are you okay?” I whisper, suddenly remembering I’m pressing against cracked ribs and bruised flesh.

“Never been better,” he says.

I turn my head to kiss the salty skin of his neck. “Sure?”

He grins. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Of that I’m sure.”