by Jackie Wang
“Tenant?”
“Yeah, she inherited her—and I guess your late grandmother's house. I'm renting it right now.”
“What do you mean?” Jordan seemed confused. He wove his fingers together and squeezed his hand. A deep line ran across his forehead.
“Your grandmother she—”
“I heard you, but I don't understand,” Jordan said, voice rising. “Grammy's dead?”
I wanted to fucking bury my head in a hole. This news shouldn't have come from a stranger. I thought he knew.
I looked over at Cameron for support, but he was just as confused as I was.
“I'm so sorry, I thought you knew,” I said.
Jordan's hands were fists now. He looked like he wanted to pummel me to death. “And she left the fucking house to Sierra? Instead of me? She's only twenty-five for Chrissakes. A child.”
I tensed. “She's not a child. And I'm sure your grandmother had her reasons.”
Jordan's eyes looked like they could cut through steel. “I'll need to ask her about this myself.”
“Maybe wait until she feels better before getting into this,” I suggested.
Jordan's face scrunched up. “It's really none of your business, is it?”
His words penetrated me like an icy blade. I decided to stay the fuck away from this man and focus on Cameron instead. After all, I didn't want to pick two fights in the same weekend.
“He's something, isn't he,” Cameron said after Jordan disappeared into the washroom.
“I'm not going to let that guy anywhere near Sierra. I don't know what their relationship is but he seems like trouble,” I said.
“You can't really stop him from seeing his sister.”
“The hell I can't.”
I swallowed hard and walked up to the reception desk. I only had one chance.
I popped my head over the counter and said to the nurse, “Did you see that big, tattooed hulk of a man? He's my friend's brother, but they're not on speaking terms. In fact, he's quite angry at her. So angry he might hurt her. Can you stop him from seeing her, or at least wait until she's conscious enough to make her own decision?”
The African-American nurse, Daisy, her name tag read, said, “But he's her emergency contact.”
Fuck.
“She listed him a long time ago. Things have changed since then.”
“So who should I call?” Daisy asked.
Her parents. Her best friend, Cal-what's-her-name. But I didn't have any of their numbers.
“You need to call her parents,” I finally said. “Her brother will have their phone numbers.”
Daisy looked irritated. “You want me to tell that giant that he can't see his own sister and he needs to give me his parents' number?”
“Yes?”
“I'm afraid that goes above and beyond my job description,” Daisy said, folding her arms across her chest.
“How can I sweeten the deal?” I asked. I was used to people wanting something from me in return. “A hundred bucks?”
“Hell no,” Daisy said.
I was grateful that Daisy declined because I realized my wallet was back at the hotel.
“Then what, Daisy?” I looked over and saw Jordan coming back and heading straight towards us.
“How about an autograph, Mr. Morgan?”
“Huh?”
“I recognize you from the ads.”
Oh.
Those fucking ads.
Dad made me do a photoshoot for the giant billboard they bought out last month. He said my handsome mug would bring in new clientele. All it ended up doing was creating situations like these. Women coming up to me as if I was some goddamn celebrity.
“Okay, Daisy. Do you have some paper?”
Daisy said, “I don't want it on paper. I want it here.” She pointed to her chest.
Jordan was a few feet away now.
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
“Deal,” I said. “Now make me proud, Daisy.”
As if on cue, Jordan popped his head beside me. “Hey man, any news?”
I shook my head and left without saying anything to him.
I watched with Cameron as Jordan said a few things and then became visibly riled up. Daisy's calm, even tone punctuated the air. “I'm sorry but—you must understand—”
“—Then why'd you fucking call me here?” I heard Jordan cry.
“So what did you promise the receptionist?” Cameron asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You don't want him to see Sierra, so how did you—”
“—I said I'd sign her chest.”
Cameron burst out laughing. “What?”
“She wanted an autograph. My autograph. On her fucking tits.”
Cameron's face went bright red. “I will never understand women. Why does she—”
I groaned. “—Because she recognized me from that stupid billboard on Highway Nine.”
CHAPTER 14
ASHER
“YOU OWE ME AN autograph,” Daisy said, smirking.
Jordan had stormed off to make a call so I fulfilled my end of the bargain. Daisy unbuttoned her shirt and peeled back the fabric to reveal wrinkled mocha skin that sagged against her collarbone.
She handed me a silver Sharpie.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
She nodded.
I dipped over the counter, pressed the tip of the marker to her skin, and left my mark on her.
She giggled a little, as if she was getting off on acting so inappropriate at work. “Honey, that tickles,” she said.
The whole situation might've been hot if she wasn't pushing sixty.
Once I capped the pen and handed it back to her, she whispered, “Sierra's in recovery. ICU room five. Tell them you're her husband.”
I wanted to hug the fucking life out of this crazy woman. “Thank you, Daisy,” I said, pressing my hands into hers. “I won't forget this.”
I waved Cam over, told him the news, and we were about to go upstairs when Daisy clucked her tongue. “Family only,” she said, glaring at Cam.
I caught her meaning and quickly explained to Cam that I was pretending to be Sierra's husband. He understood, patted me on the back and said he'd wait downstairs.
I was practically hopping up and down in the elevator. ICU was on the third floor. When the elevator doors opened, I scanned the signs and immediately turned left. The woman at the desk didn't stop me or ask any questions, thank God.
When I finally reached room five, I felt like throwing up.
Sierra was on the other side. Would she have stitches and bruises? An oxygen mask? Tubes down her throat? What exactly had happened to her? And was I really prepared to face this?
“Are you family?” a man asked.
I turned and saw a doctor wearing the whitest coat ever. He sported a receding hairline, with dark curls wrapped around his ears. He clutched a clipboard under his right arm.
“Um, yes, I'm her husband.” I never thought I'd be calling myself anyone's husband. The word seemed foreign to me, but oddly, it rolled right off my tongue.
“Your name?”
“Asher.”
“Full name, sir,” the doctor said, taking out a pen.
“Asher Morgan.” For some reason, I felt like a little kid who'd just been caught stealing candy. Was he going to see through my lies and report me? Kick me out? But the doctor just scribbled down my name and told me to follow him inside.
“My name is Dr. Kumar Majumdar,” the doctor said. “General surgeon. Sierra is stable now, but we'll keep her under observation for at least a week.”
“Thank you, doctor. So what happened exactly?” I asked.
“She took quite a fall and suffered a mild concussion. There's a nasty gash on her forehead, and she lost a lot of blood. But the worst part was she twisted her ankle and fractured her right tibia. It'll take quite some time to heal. She needs rest, so try to keep your visit short. I'll be back to check on her tomorrow
.”
“Thank you, doctor. Thank you so much,” I said.
Dr. Majumdar shot me a small smile before he left. I took a seat beside Sierra's bed. She looked extremely pale; her lips chapped and bloodless. Even her hair seemed to have lost its luster. Her head was bandaged up, and a small patch of bright red blood seeped through the gauze. An IV ran from her hand to a dangling plastic sac of fluids beside her. Her other arm had a blood pressure cuff strapped to it.
Sierra's breathing came slow and uneven, and all I wanted to do was to wake her up and tell her how worried I was. How terrified. How much I wanted to give anything for her to be all right again. To see that feisty smile and listen to her sarcastic remarks again. Selfish Asher wanted to lift her up and spin her around; squeeze and kiss the hell out of her.
But of course I let her sleep. She was probably sedated anyway, and for good reason. Her immune system was waging war inside her.
“Christ, Sierra, you scared the shit out of me,” I whispered, running my thumb over the back of her hand. Her skin felt like it was on fire. I bent down and kissed her palm, feeling a sharp pain in my nose. Stinging tears bit at my lash-line but I refused to let them fall. “I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you.”
She was okay. She'd survived. A little worse for wear, but alive. That was what mattered.
I didn’t realized how much I cared about her until then. How much I wanted her to be happy, healthy, and carefree. To be the naive and adorable personality I'd grown to admire in the past two weeks.
Outside, thunder rumbled like a snoring giant, and flashes of lightning lit up the dark sky. Even though it was late afternoon, it felt like nighttime already. The thin curtains flew up as a heavy gust tore through the room. I scrambled up to close the window. Once the latch was secured, I realized I was breathing fast. In fact, I was almost hyperventilating.
Sierra's mortality terrified me. She'd slipped down a hill and almost died. I might've lost her forever, and not even had the chance to tell her how much I liked her.
She'd broken her leg this time, but she could've just as easily snapped her neck.
If—so many ifs.
My mom lost her battle with breast cancer before I had even graduated law school. In her final days, I spent weeks in and out of the hospital. I should've been used to the sterile rooms, muted beeping noises and chattering nurses by now, but I wasn't. That familiar, musty smell only made me remember how much pain Mom had endured before she finally surrendered to it. Between feeding her meals and reading to her, Mom had talked about her childhood and mine. We had envisioned my future together, and she even helped me pick out my future children's names (Colleen and Bryan). The grandchildren she'd never meet. Her final wish was for me to build my career and settle down soon with someone and start a family. Surprisingly, Mom's last days were some of the best (albeit bittersweet) days I'd ever had with her. And when she finally breathed her last, I was so relieved. Dad was too. It'd been a nightmare watching her lose all her hair and her vitality; transforming into a hollow shell of a woman. We were glad she was free now. But somehow, her death still sent me spiralling out of control. Mayhem swept me up like a tornado and the only way I could reclaim normalcy was to spend all my waking hours at the office.
After the funeral, I vowed to do everything I could to help Dad at the firm. After all, he'd started it with Mom when they were still newlyweds. And Dad was grateful for my help. I knew he was proud of me, even if he never said so out loud. Working at the firm and burying myself in work somehow made me feel connected to my mother. It was her legacy, and I would keep it thriving. Help it become the best goddamn firm in Northbridge. Give it 1000% percent and then some.
But lately, my heart wasn't in my work, and I knew it.
Another woman had taken over my thoughts. My priorities were shifting...I no longer wanted to spend all day and night at the office. I found myself wanting to go home because I knew Sierra would be there. I found myself wanting to see her beautiful face when I came home from work.
A pleasant, domestic scene.
“Hey honey, how was work?” she'd ask. And I'd wrap her in my arms, kiss her senseless and tell her about my day. We'd share a drink, and then we'd take turns making the best home-cooked meals. A few years down the road, we'd have two or three rugrats running around destroying the house...
How absolutely ridiculous, I know.
I looked over at Sierra. Somehow, seeing her unconscious and so goddamn fragile broke my heart.
We'd only kissed twice and we'd never even gone on a proper date before...yet somehow, I couldn't imagine my life without her. It wasn't just about lust anymore. I didn't want to admit it, but I actually wanted to spend more time with her. Talking, laughing, joking around. I liked being around her. She was just always so cheerful and bull-headed and loud-spoken....and so right for me. My little ball of sunshine.
But now...
I listened to the beeping machines that surrounded Sierra. The ones that kept her vitals steady. Kept her alive and breathing.
She wouldn't be here if she hadn’t been out looking for me.
I put her here.
Guilt edged in, and I felt a heavy sensation coil in the pit of my stomach. I sank deeper into the chair and ran a hand through my dirty hair. God I reeked. I hadn't even showered this morning, and my skin and clothes were caked with mud. I wanted badly to take a bath or at least change my clothes, but I couldn't bear to leave Sierra.
I needed to stay. At least until her parents arrived. Someone needed to be here for her.
I sagged deeper into the upholstered armchair, propping my elbow up to support my chin. Maybe I let the stress get to me; or perhaps it was just sheer exhaustion...whatever it was, it eventually lulled me into a dreamless sleep.
When I woke up, faint sunlight was streaking in through the window. Finally, a few welcome rays after the yesterday's bleakness. I looked at the wall clock and realized it was five a.m. I felt guilty for leaving Cam downstairs. I'd wanted to tell him to go back to the hotel, or even go home. But somehow my little nap extended through the night. I wondered if Cam was still waiting downstairs for me. Poor guy. He probably felt just as shitty as I did over what happened. How the fuck did I fall asleep for almost thirteen hours...especially on such an uncomfortable chair?
I sat up and blinked a few times to wet my irritated eyes. A crick had developed in my neck, and I stretched to loosen it. After softening the knots on my shoulder, I stood up and flexed my arms. Pins and needles dug into my feet like thousands of biting ants and I paced the room to alleviate the sensation.
A knock.
“She's probably still asleep, but you're welcome to come see her,” a soft female voice said.
Shuffling feet.
“Oh my baby,” a shrill female voice cried.
“Sierra,” a deeper, male one whispered.
I looked over and saw an older woman (who was the splitting image of Sierra) and a man hovering by the door. Both of them were wearing dripping wet rain ponchos. They must've been Sierra's parents.
God, I wish I didn't look like a bum the first time I met them.
Another woman trailed in. I recognized her as Sierra's best friend. She wasn't wearing anything waterproof and looked like a drowned rat. Her long, brown hair was plastered against her cheek and down her neck. She was wringing her sleeves into the sink by the door and didn't notice me.
“Who are you?” Sierra's mother asked, shocked by my presence and probably by my disheveled appearance.
“I'm Asher. Sierra's...friend,” I said.
Sierra's friend looked up. “Lillian, that's Sierra's tenant. The man I told you about earlier.”
“Cally, what's he doing here?” Lillian asked, still not looking me in the eye. She seemed shrewd and suspicious. I didn't blame her. I'd be suspicious too if I saw someone who looked like a hobo sleeping next to my sick daughter.
“I didn't want her to be alone after surgery,” I explained, “So I stayed here wit
h her. But now that you're here, I guess I should get going.”
“Hold on a darn second,” Sierra's father said. “I don't believe we've been introduced. I'm Ernest Maywood.” He stuck out his hand.
I shook it. “Asher Morgan. Pleasure.”
“So what was Sierra doing here?” Lillian asked. “And in this weather? Were you involved in this...this accident?”
“We came here with friends,” I explained. “For a beer festival. The weather got bad, and there was an evacuation warning...I wasn't there when she fell. She was with my friend Cameron.”
“So why isn't this Cameron up here then? I'd like to ask him a few questions,” Ernest said, peeling off his poncho and shoving it into the sink.
“I'm not sure. I don't know where he is,” I said. “But I can let him know you want to see him.”
I felt as if I was being interrogated, even though I'd done absolutely nothing wrong. Concern was etched on all their faces, and I had to tell myself they were just looking out for Sierra's best interests. They had every right to ask me questions.
Finally, Ernest said, “Thank you, Asher. For being here with her.”
I nodded. “If you need anything, I'll be around,” I said. “I'm going to go find Cameron.”
“I'll come with you,” Cally said.
I nodded.
Once we left the room, Cally glared at me. “What the hell is going on here? I'm her best friend, and I didn't even know you would be here. She came here with Cam, so why are you here?”
“Cam and I are best friends,” I explained. “I didn't know Sierra was coming until I met up with my buddies. It was a coincidence.”
“You're best friends with Cam?” Cally asked, incredulous.
“You know him too?”
“Who doesn't?” Cally said, digging her hands into her front pockets. “This is too weird. Anyway, where's Cam? Can you call him? I'd like to give him a piece of my mind.”
“My phone's dead. And last I checked there was shitty reception.”
“The storm's pretty much over,” Cally said, taking out her phone. “What's his number? I can call.”
I told her and she dialed his number. When Cam picked up, she cried, “Cameron Mahoney, you better be at the hospital right now.”