Wake up.
Don’t leave me.
Please don’t fucking leave me.
Please.
Lennon
The funny thing about hospitals was that they may just be where I felt most safe.
This was the one place where no one took advantage of me.
It was the spot where I controlled the narrative.
If I ended up here on a form, it was because of my own actions. Consequences I could trace back to myself. No one touched me inappropriately here. No one took what wasn’t theirs. Natural consequences were initiated by my actions, whether I liked to admit that or not.
So, as I watched Asher, hooked up to breathing tubes and IVs, my heart sank. I was on the helpless end of things once again.
There was nothing I could do to change this situation. No action that I had done had landed me here. This was sheer pain watching him incapacitated.
It had been eleven days.
Eleven days since he had been out.
Eleven days since my world narrowed to these hospital walls.
Every passing second scraped something raw inside me. I didn’t need answers or clarity. No. I just needed to know that he was okay.
That was all that mattered at this point.
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. I pictured Asher’s smile. His recklessly bright smile lighting up my days. The way he knelt down to pet Nova, speaking ever so softly to her. The way he wrapped me up in his arms and carried me to bed.
Please be okay.
His rigid jawline was always such an oxymoron for someone that was so unbearably soft of a person. The safe one.
The safe place for me to hide. A home for me to run toward.
My home.
“What ails you, my beautiful siren?” Asher rasped.
Shock tore through me so violently at the sound of his voice. I shot to my feet and scrambled onto the edge of his bed, wrapping myself in him like he might disappear.
“Asher—Asher, oh my fucking God, you’re here!” I cried.
He gave me a weak chuckle. “So are you, angel. So are you.”
“Well, duh. We still had some stupid bucket list items to finish,” I said, half laughing, half falling apart. “And you were about to exit stage right on me.”
Asher appeared in pain as he closed his eyes and tried to sit up, his elbows weak as they attempted to hoist him upright. I gripped his waist, steadying him, helping shift him into a seated position.
Our eyes locked and butterflies filled my stomach. What the hell was that?
“I wasn’t going to kick the bucket without finishing up with you. I just needed a way to get you back to me, was all,” he said with a laugh.
“Yeah, yeah. Real funny, coma boy,” I replied sarcastically.
