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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 painki
llers 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.
