Until Ashlyn

by Aurora Rose Reynolds

  “I can walk.”

  “You may be able to, but I would rather carry you. Open the door for me.”

  I lean over and turn the nob, and he pushes us out with his shoulder.

  As soon as we step out of the bathroom, my mom comes toward us, holding a few papers in her hand and giving them to me. “Dr. Woods dropped those off. She said you need to come back in a few days to have your stitches checked, along with the wound, to make sure it’s healing properly and is not infected.”

  “Okay,” I agree, and her face softens as I yawn.

  “How is your headache now?”

  “Not as bad as it was.” I rest my head against Dillon’s shoulder, feeling exhausted. “I’m just tired.”

  “Let Dillon take you home,” Dad mutters, taking my mom’s hand in his. “We’ll come over tomorrow to check on you.”

  “Sure, but we’re staying at Dillon’s house, so you’ll have to come over there,” I inform them, and their eyes widen. “Oh, come on,” I sigh. “Was I really that vocal about his house?” I question as Dillon chuckles.

  “A little.” Mom smiles as Dad shakes his head, grinning.

  “It’s growing on me,” I admit, and Dillon’s arms tighten slightly. It’s not a lie; it really is growing on me. I love the kitchen and the library, but I really love his bedroom and his closet. I also love that he has a giant tub with jets in it. And really, wherever he is, that’s where I want to be.

  “And the fountain?” Dad asks with a raised brow. Apparently, I was vocal about that too.

  “I still hate it, but I was thinking about buying some gold fish to put in it.” I shrug.

  “You really are crazy.” Dillon laughs along with my parents.

  “Come on. We will walk you out,” Dad says, and Dillon and I follow behind my parents, out of the hospital. After giving them each a hug and a promise to call if anything changes, they wait with us until Dillon has me buckled in the car before they head for my dad’s truck across the lot.

  Once Dillon’s behind the wheel, I turn my head to look over at him and smile. “I should have gotten hit by a car a week ago,” I joke, then wish I didn’t when his eyes darken and narrow.

  “Do not say shit like that.”

  “It was a joke,” I defend quietly, and he runs his hands roughly down his face.

  “It’s not funny. I would rather have your parents hate me for the rest of my life than to see you in the hospital ever again.”

  “Okay.” I rest my hand against his cheek. “Please calm down. I’m okay, remember?”

  “I know.” He turns his head, kissing my palm, then starts up the car. I can tell he’s still tense as he drives, but I have no idea what to say to put him at ease. As soon as we get to the house, he parks in the garage without a word and carries me inside and up the stairs to the bedroom, where he helps me brush my teeth and get undressed. Crawling into bed a few minutes later, I roll to my side and watch him strip down to his boxers.

  “Are you coming to bed?” I ask when I see he’s putting on a pair of sleep pants, and not stripping down like he normally does every night.

  “In a few. I just need to make a quick call,” he explains, coming over to where I’m lying, then bends to kiss me. “Try to sleep. I’ll be right back.”

  “Sure,” I agree, watching him pick up his cell phone off the bed, where he tossed it. I don’t know how long I lie there looking at the ceiling, but eventually exhaustion takes over and I fall asleep before he comes back.

  “Wake up, baby.”

  “I swear if you wake me up one more time, I’ll divorce you,” I growl into my pillow, praying I fall back asleep more quickly this time. All I want is to sleep, but every time I do he’s waking me up, which wouldn’t be so bad, but it takes longer and longer for unconsciousness to find me again each time.

  “We’re never getting a divorce.” He kisses my shoulder, and I sigh, turning to face him and forcing him to his back. “How’s your head?”

  “Not too bad. My headache’s gone.”

  “Good,” he murmurs, kissing the side of my head. “Sleep, baby,” he commands, lightly running his fingers down my bare arm.

  “Okay.” I close my eyes, but I don’t sleep. Instead, I listen to the sound of his breathing even out and his heartbeat thump against my ear as my mind replays the sound of his shout right before the car hit me.

  Chapter 8

  Ashlyn

  Lying in the library with my bare feet on the sofa and my head on a pillow, I rest the book I’m reading against my chest and look out the window, watching the sky darken and a tree sway in the breeze. It’s been three days since I was released from the hospital, and for the last three days, things between Dillon and I have been tense. I know he’s worried and frustrated with everything that has happened, and there is nothing I can do to help put him at ease.

  The morning I woke up at Dillon’s after the accident, my parents showed up, along with the police, who needed to take my statement. I found out from them that a few witnesses reported seeing a black Nissan Altima with dark-tinted windows double-parked with the driver behind the wheel. They then said the moment I stepped out into the road, the car drove toward me and swerved in my direction. The only thing that prevented me from getting hit head-on was the fact Dillon pulled me back before I took another step into the street.

  I could have been killed. That may be a little bit dramatic, but maybe not, since someone wanted to intentionally hurt me. The thing that worries me the most is the police have not been able to find the car, even with the story of the incident appearing in the news the last three days.

  “Hey.”

  Coming out of my head, I find Dillon standing in the doorway with his tired eyes on mine. His hair is rumpled and his face is unshaven, but he still looks as gorgeous as ever in a dark gray suit, and a crisp white shirt that is unbuttoned at his neck.

  “You’re home early,” I murmur, watching him walk toward me. As soon as he’s close, he tosses my cell phone onto the coffee table in front of me and lifts my feet. Taking a seat on the couch, he rests my legs over his lap, running his hand up my bare leg then thigh.

  “I just came to check on you. I have to go back in a bit.”

  “You didn’t have to do that. I told you earlier, I’m okay,” I remind him, covering his hand with mine and lacing our fingers together.

  “I actually did, since you haven’t answered your phone the last five times I called you, and your mom said she dropped you at home over two hours ago,” he mutters, and I move my eyes to my cell phone.

  “Oh.” I chew the inside of my cheek, feeling guilty that he drove home just to check on me when I know he’s been swamped with patients since I’ve been out of the office.

  “It’s fine. It gave me an excuse to come see you.” He lifts my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles, making my belly melt. “You washed your hair,” he points out, and I run my fingers down my still damp hair with my free hand while nodding.

  “Dr. Woods said it was okay to wash it today, so Mom helped me when I got home from my appointment.”

  “I would have helped you this evening,” he says as he picks up a piece of my damp hair, rolling it between his fingers.

  “I know, but I didn’t want to wait.” I’ve hated not being able to wash my hair. The first thing I asked Dr. Woods when I saw her today was if I could wash it, and she said yes, as long as I was careful and dried the area after I was done.

  “Did Dr. Woods say anything else?”

  “Just that if no infection sets in, I should be able to have the stitches removed in ten days. And that I can return to work Monday, as long as I feel up to it.”

  Frowning, he shakes his head. “Maybe I should call and speak to her. Monday is only three days away. That doesn’t seem like an adequate amount of time to heal properly from a head injury.”

  “Stop being crazy overprotective. I’m fine, and I’m coming back to work Monday, whether you like it or not.”

  “We’ll see.
” He shrugs, and my teeth snap together. There are times when I love how protective he is, but there are also times it makes me seriously crazy.

  “Have you heard anything from Jax?” As soon as I ask, his eyes shutter and he looks away from me.

  “No.”

  “No, you haven’t, or no, you’re not going to tell me about it?” I ask, knowing the answer already, since Jax has had the same reaction each time I’ve talked to him. Meaning, he closes down completely.

  “If he tells me something you need to know, I’ll tell you.”

  “Will you, though? You were pissed when the police told me someone tried to run me down on purpose, and I think that is something I definitely needed to know,” I say, watching his jaw tighten.

  “We don’t know they were trying to hit you. And like I’ve told you, we’re dealing with it. Right now, all you need to do is rest and heal,” he grits out, and I pull my legs from his lap and sit back against the armrest of the couch, tucking my feet under me while pointing at him.

  “They swerved toward me with their car. I think it’s obvious they were trying to hit me.”

  “They could have been trying to hit me,” he states, and my blood runs cold.

  “What?” I breathe, studying him as his eyes close and his hand runs through his hair in aggravation.

  “We’re not talking about this.”

  “Do you think they we’re trying to hit you?” I question, feeling panicked. I didn’t even think about the fact he was right next to me. That person could have been trying to hit him, but hit me instead.

  “Baby, seriously, please fucking drop it. If something comes up that you need to know about, I will tell you. Until then, just focus on getting better.”

  “You sound like my dad and Jax. I’m really getting sick of you guys telling me what I need.” Since I got home, my dad, Jax, and he have all been saying the same thing, and my mom, who is normally the only person who is sane in my family, has been mute on the situation, which isn’t like her at all.

  “I thought you’d be happy we are all getting along.”

  “Bonding over annoying me isn’t working for me,” I grumble, watching his lips tip up in a small smile. Seeing that smile, I realize it’s been a while since I’ve seen him do that or laugh. “I miss seeing you smile,” I whisper without thinking, and his face softens as his hand reaches out to wrap around my wrist.

  “Come here.” He drags me onto his lap to straddle him then slides his hand behind my neck, putting pressure there until we’re sharing the same breath. “Stop fighting with me about taking care of you.”

  “I’m not fighting with you,” I disagree, even though I kind of am, but still kind of not.

  “I love you,” he whispers, running his thumb down the column of my throat, and my body melts further into his.

  “I know you do,” I whisper back, watching him grin.

  Giving my neck a squeeze, his mouth comes closer to mine. “Tell me you love me.”

  “You know I do.”

  “Yes, but I want to hear you say it. There is nothing better than hearing you tell me that you love me.”

  Searching his eyes, I lean even closer, and whisper, “I love you, even though you’re annoying,” against his lips. Then I watch close up as his eyes darken. Leaning in, he nips my bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue. “Dillon,” I gasp, pressing into his erection.

  “Right here.” His free hand slides around my back and he locks my hips tightly against his as his mouth takes mine in a devastating kiss that leaves me wanting more, and whimpering at the loss of his mouth when he pulls away and rests his forehead against mine.

  “Keep your phone close so you can hear it if I call,” he demands, sliding his hand from the back of my neck to the underside of my jaw.

  “I will,” I agree, resting my hands against his chest and my lips against his in a soft touch.

  “I wish I didn’t have to go back to the office.”

  I wish that too. I wish we could get away for a few days, just the two of us.

  “Me too.” I move my hands up his chest and neck, then his jaw, pausing to run my thumb over his bottom lip.

  “Kiss me, baby. I gotta go,” he murmurs, and I pull my eyes from his mouth to look at him.

  “If I don’t kiss you, will you stay?” I pout, and he shakes his head, pulling me closer and nipping my bottom lip again, this time hard enough to sting. Gasping, my mouth opens, and his tongue slides in against mine. I’ve missed this over the last few days. I’ve missed feeling consumed by him. I’ve missed having his hands and mouth on me. My body starts to come back to life and I rock against his erection, feeling it rub against my clit. “Don’t make me stop,” I beg. I don’t want him to stop this. He’s been so careful with me since I got home, and though, I do love his soft side, I miss the feeling of him owning me. Pulling back slowly, he presses one more kiss against my lips.

  “I gotta go, baby,” he breathes regretfully, making me sigh in frustration.

  “You owe me,” I grumble, squirming on his lap, and his erection hits me in just the right spot once more, making my breath catch.

  “I’ll pay up.” He smirks, flipping me gently to my back on the couch. “We’ll go out to dinner tonight, your choice, so think about where you want me to take you.” He pecks my lips then stands quickly, adjusting himself as he does. “Call me if you need me.”

  “I need you now,” I whine, tossing my arms over my head in defeat.

  “Poor baby.” His eyes slide over me, and for a brief second, I think he’s going to change his mind, but instead, he shakes his head and adjusts himself yet again. “I’ll be home by five.” He leans over, kissing me once more before grumbling something under his breath as he leaves, shaking his head.

  Getting up from the couch, I pick up my cell phone and take it with me, wanting a glass of water. Moving through one of the living rooms and down the long back hall toward the kitchen, I notice the door that leads out to the garage is open and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise on end. Dillon is always overly careful about locking up; he’s never left any of the doors open or unlocked.

  Hearing something, my heart begins to race and my breath freezes in my lungs as panic starts to set in. Leaning back against the wall, I listen carefully, swearing I hear the sound of someone breathing. “Dillon?” I call, feeling my heart in my throat when I get no response. Lifting my cell that is clutched in my hand, I press 9-1-1 then move toward the door with my thumb on the call button. “Dillon,” I repeat, then jump and scream when the door is shoved open.

  “Dammit, Leo!” I cry, holding my hand over my heart that feels like it’s about ready to explode out of my chest. “You scared the crap out of me,” I chide, scooping up my cat before he can get away from me. Hissing, he swipes at my chin, but then gives up on being mad and starts to purr when I flip him to his back and rub his tummy. Shutting the door to the garage, I lock it and head for the kitchen with Leo purring loudly in my arms.

  Since we’ve been staying here, he’s been laying low. I don’t think he knows what to do with so much room to roam, and most days I find him hiding in the top of the towel closet in the hallway upstairs. “Have you been locked in the garage all day?” I ask, kissing his head before dropping him to the top of the island in the middle of the kitchen.

  Stretching out, he looks around then looks at me before falling to his bottom. “You didn’t even eat breakfast,” I say, picking up his still full bowl of food and setting it on the counter near him. Looking at the bowl, he bends to sniff it then looks back at me and blinks. “Is it not to your liking, King Leo?” I smile, rubbing the top of his head. Seeing he’s not going to eat it, I dump the contents down the disposal and rinse the dish before grabbing him a new container of food. As soon as the dish is on the counter near him, he sniffs it again. Obviously finding it to his liking, he shoves his face in the bowl and begins to eat.

  Taking a seat on one of the stools, I watch him lick the bowl clean, and
then watch as he wanders around the top of the island for a moment before hopping across to another counter and up to the top of the fridge. “Are you going to hide up there for the rest of the day?” I ask him as he walks in a circle before lying down. “I guess that is a yes,” I mutter, taking a sip of water, and then jump as my cell phone rings. Seeing it’s my cousin June, I pick it up and put it to my ear, smiling. “Hey, you.”

  “Hey, are you home?” she asks as the sound of the doorbell rings through the quiet house.

  “Yes.” I snort, sliding off the stool. “But I think you’re supposed to call to make sure I’m home before showing up. Not call as you ring the bell.” I laugh, heading for the front door.

  “I’m not there yet. I just left work. I should be there in five.”

  “Oh, someone’s at the door. I thought it was you,” I say, and hear the sound of a horn through the phone then listen as she shouts.

  “Put your cell phone down before you kill someone, asshole!”

  Shaking my head, I mutter, “One day, someone is going to follow you home.”

  “Please, if someone ever followed me, they would have to deal with Evan. You and I both know they would run for the hills the second they saw him.

  “True.” I grin at my feet as I walk across the marble entryway toward the door, knowing she’s right. Evan would lose his mind if someone even looked at her in a way he didn’t like, especially now that she’s pregnant.

  “But seriously, is checking Facebook so damn important that you can’t wait until you get home?” she grumbles.

  “I wouldn’t know. After MySpace went up in smoke, I gave up on social media.” I smile, hearing her laugh. “Hold on a sec. Let me see who’s here.” I pull my cell from my ear and lean up on my tiptoes to look through the peephole. “Fuck me.” I close my eyes when I see none other than the she-bitch-from-hell standing on the front porch.

  “Who’s there?” June asks, and I grit my teeth.

  “Take a wild guess.”