Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“She’s right. Besides, he said he’ll be here. He just needed a minute to wrap his brain around everything.”
I reluctantly agree, sitting back and pulling the cover over my freezing legs—why are hospitals always so cold, anyway? But somehow, I know Asher isn’t coming. I can feel it in my bones.
The doctor walks back in, stopping to wash his hands at the sink. “So, I have good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?” he says by way of greeting.
“Good,” I answer, because I’m not sure how much more bad I can handle in one night.
“Well, the good news is that you’ll be fine. Slight concussion. No need for a CT scan or anything like that since you weren’t unconscious very long and you’re not having any prolonged amnesia. It’s been about two hours since you got here, so we probably would’ve noticed by now if things were going to take a turn for the worse.”
I nod, relieved.
“And the bad news?” Dash asks, arms folded across his chest.
“The bad news is that you have a nasty gash there,” he says, pointing two fingers in the direction of my head, “and you’re going to need a couple of stitches.”
“That’s it? When can I go home?”
“Well, seeing as how it’s…” he turns his wrist over to check his watch, “three in the morning, I’d rather have you stay here for a few more hours just as a precaution. I’ll let you go before shift change at around eight. Sound good?”
No, it doesn’t sound good at all, I want to say. Ash needs me. But I don’t. I let him stitch me up, try to convince Nat and Dash to go get some sleep, and watch Supernatural reruns for the next six hours, all while calling Ash over and over until my phone finally dies.
It’s eight forty-six by the time the doctor comes in with my discharge papers. I’ve been dressed and ready to go since seven.
“All right, Miss Briar,” he starts, flipping through the paperwork. “You have a mild concussion. You might have a headache for a few days, so try to take it easy. Unless you’re planning to play any contact sports, you should be good to go back to life as you know it.
“Here are the do’s and don’ts and what to watch for. If you experience any of these things,” he instructs, circling a section with his pen, “come straight back to the hospital. Any questions?”
“Nope,” I say, signing his copy. He gives me one more warning about taking it easy, and then we’re free to leave.
“I need to find Asher. Do you know what room his dad is in?” I don’t waste any time asking. Both Dash and Nat shake their heads. Ignoring their protests, I run in the direction of the nurses’ station with both of them trailing behind me. I smack my hands down on the desk, feeling out of breath and a little dizzy, but I can’t focus on anything other than finding Ash right now.
“Hi, can you tell me what room John Kelley is in?”
The tired nurse doesn’t even look up from her computer.
“Are you family?”
“No. It’s my boyfriend’s father,” I lie, ignoring the disapproving look on Dash’s face at the word boyfriend. I don’t know what we are, but “my sometimes fuck buddy, and sometimes enemy” isn’t going to get me the information I need.
“I’m sorry,” she says, finally looking up at me beneath thick-rimmed glasses. “I can’t release patient information unless you’re family.”
“Okay, then that’s my father,” I say through clenched teeth as Dash pulls me away by the elbow, apologizing on my behalf.
“Briar, you need to calm down. He wouldn’t be in his room. He’d be in the morgue by now. You’ve had no sleep and a fucking concussion. Let’s go home. Maybe he’s there,” Dash says, and Nat nods in agreement.
I know he’s just trying to get me back home, but I agree because he could be right. If I know Asher at all, he’s not sitting at John’s bedside. He’s either running or trying to numb any of the feelings that threaten to penetrate his wall of indifference. And everything he owns is currently at my house, so it’s a good a place to start as any.
Ignoring the throbbing in my temple, we make our way toward the exit and pile into Nat’s little car. I take the back seat, thankful for the chance to be alone with my thoughts. I close my eyes and rest my head against the black leather. So many different thoughts war for my attention. My dad sending Asher away and never saying a word. Whitley’s part in all of this. God, all these years, I thought she was just an annoyance. I had no idea that she was at the root of everything. What must Asher have thought of me? This entire time, he thought I betrayed him. That explains why he was so cold to me at first, but why would he ever get close to me again? And John. Gone, just like that. It’s hard to believe we just visited him, and he was up, walking around, eating food, and carrying on a conversation. It’s funny how everything can change in an instant. And by funny, I mean fucked up.