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“War is hell,” I agreed once I was on my feet, only a few inches away from him. “You don’t have to live the rest of your life in a warzone.”
He scoffed, then crawled into the seat, not even bothering to buckle before he curled into the door, away from me.
I got behind the wheel and got us out of there, going on the freeway long enough to get to another exit where I could turn around and head back into Vegas.
He stayed like that, facing the door and away from me the whole way back, obviously sinking into a pit of despair from the flashbacks and the flood of emotions.
We made it back to his house before too long, and I drove his car back into the garage.
“Your car is back at work,” he grumbled, his voice strained. “Gotta bring you back.”
“I’ll get a rideshare back,” I told him, hurrying out of the car and going to his side, because it sounded like pain in his tone.
“What’s wrong?” I demanded, helping him up, which meant that yes, he was in some serious pain.
“Stress triggers my headaches,” he whispered, pressing his hand to the side of his head. “Got a migraine from hell.”
Leading the way, I helped him back to his bedroom and followed his pointed finger to the prescription bottle beside his bed.
Popping it open, I took a second to read the instructions before handing him a round, white pill.
“I’ll get some water,” I said in a low voice as he swallowed the pill dry.
He let out a soft moan and just turned over onto his side.
Hurrying, I grabbed a glass of water, pausing only long enough to close the garage door, and brought it back to him, forcing him to drink.
“Get home safe,” he choked out, taking the water and only managing a sip.
“I’m not leaving you like this,” I warned, moving to his feet to get his boots off.
“I don’t need your help,” he growled at me, sounding just as pissed as he was in agony.
“Oh, shut it. I’m not leaving you until your meds kick in and you fall asleep.”
He just sighed and unbuckled his pants, pushing them down half heartedly before letting his feet do the rest until the denim plopped on the ground.
“Sing,” he said finally.
So, I did, softly singing the same song I’d sang earlier to bring him back from his episode.
Ash’s eyes closed, face lined with stress as he laid there in his socks, boxer briefs, and dirty t-shirt. God, it broke me to see him like that.
Taking pity, I dragged his blanket up and tucked him in before moving to the other side of the bed and crawling slowly on so as to not disturb him. I settled against the headboard, working the belt off my waist before I pulled the blanket over my feet, too.
I wasn’t sure if it was the pill or the singing, but his face seemed to ease a little, and a soft snore came from him as he finally slept. As he finally got some semblance of peace.
Taking advantage of the rare moment, I stared down at his beautiful face, looking younger and innocent in sleep. All of the tired, troubled lines near his eyes had smoothed, and he could almost pass as my age. His buzzed hair had grown out a little, and it was spiked around his head from how much he’d been pulling at it, trying to ease what must have been terrible pain. I’d not heard a single word of complaint all those weeks with him at our house. Not with his fractured hip bone, or the deep gash that ran from hip to calf, leaving a nasty, pink scar that I’d only seen for the first time tonight. It was puckered, a wicked looking thing that could have only been delivered with some sort of blunt object.
What happened?
Dad had been tightlipped about Ashton’s injuries, and Ash himself wouldn’t talk about it. Someday I’d get him to answer. Not today, though. Tonight, he needed to sleep, and I’d watch over him as long as it took. For as long as he needed me, I’d be there, even if he didn’t ask it of me. I’d happily give him all of me, if I could make the pain just a fraction less overwhelming.
Two unwelcome tears dropped out of my eyes as I watched him sleep in the shadows of the room.
The broken man beside me was the most beautiful creature I’d ever met, inside and out. He’d sacrificed everything, and been betrayed by his one and only love.
Lifting my fingers, I dragged them slowly, softly over his cheek as he slept, mourning for him in a way I knew he’d never let himself do. I cried silently, then closed my eyes, feeling for just a moment what his despair must have felt like. And then, I fell asleep.
