by Jo Raven
I give Zane a once over and don’t like what I see. He looks fucking awful, sickly pale, dark crescents under his eyes. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks.” He grimaces.
“You’ve been here since yesterday, Ash,” the other male voice says, that vaguely familiar, authoritative voice, and I try to twist more to see who it is but my ribs are killing me and there’s a fire low in my back. “Zane hasn’t moved from your side.”
Well, that makes sense. Zane wouldn’t. He’s my bro, my best friend. Makes me feel guilty, of course, as it always does when Zane takes care of me.
“The others were here, too,” Zane says, a defensiveness in his voice I’m not used to hearing. “Tessa and Audrey and Rafe. Even Dylan.”
Audrey. I blink. “She was here?”
“She’s the one who found you, dimwit.” Zane looks like he wants to give me a mock punch, then thinks better of it.
“Z-man, who’s the other guy?” If only he’d come around the bed so I could see...
Zane scowls, which makes me even more curious. Silence stretches.
“Ash.” The invisible guy seems to hesitate. “It’s been a long time.”
That statement sends warning bells ringing inside my head, but there’s too much noise in there already, and my pulse thumps in my ears, so I’m not even certain I heard him right.
Then he does step around the bed and I see him. I blink stupidly. It’s a lot like staring in a mirror, and my twisty thoughts get even crazier.
Calm down, Ash.
I draw a deep breath and my ribcage shoots warning pains through my torso. Hello, cracked ribs. “You are...”
No, it can’t be. I fist my hands in the blanket. The rest of him may look like me, but those amber eyes... Tyler.
No. I’m going crazy.
His lips flatten. “You don’t know who I am?”
“Sure I do,” I say, surprised my voice is steady. “Tyler. The brother who got up one day and left me with a dying mother and a father who decided that beating the crap out of me on a regular basis was healthy upbringing. That’s who you are. How about you turn around now and go back the way you came?”
His eyes widen, and I want to yell at him to go, but I’m short of breath and dizzy, so I lay my head back and close my eyes.
I hate the weakness and pain pinning me to the bed. And I hate the way my life keeps spiraling out of control without any signs of stopping. What the hell is Tyler doing here?
“Ash. We need to talk.”
“I’m done talking,” I mutter. “Go away.”
“Fucker,” Zane says, “let him say his piece.”
I open my eyes, my pulse a little calmer. “Don’t wanna hear.”
“Ash.” Tyler pushes his hand through his short hair. He’s as pale as Zane, and his gaze is haunted, full of shadows. The black lines of a tattoo travel up his neck. “I left because I had to. I thought Dad wouldn’t touch you.”
Well, duh. I clench my jaw. “How much you wanna bet you were wrong?”
He winces.
Do I care? Hell, no.
“What made you so sure he wouldn’t hurt me?” I suddenly want to know.
“Because.” Tyler sighs. “He kept saying he beat me because I’m a bastard. He said he’d never touch you.”
“Bastard as in...?” Zane lifts his pierced brow, the three silver rings glinting.
“As in Jake Devlin wasn’t my real father, and he found out. So he took his rage out on me until I ran away.”
I’m dizzy again. Tyler is my half brother. Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t anyone tell me?
Is this a nightmare? I want to go back to the dream where Audrey held my hand. I groan and roll my head away.
“Ash, you okay?” Zane appears in my line of sight. “Should I call the nurse?”
I shake my head, and that makes me grit my teeth as the pain ricochets in my skull. I try to see Tyler who’s walking across the room, toward the window. “Why? Why did you leave? Why didn’t you write or call?”
Zane moves aside, letting me see Tyler again. Tyler shakes his head. “I watched you sometimes from a distance. At school. You seemed okay.”
“Right. That’s not creepy or anything,” I say. Watching me from a distance? What the hell? “Why didn’t you come back?”
“I figured you’d be okay. Dad loved you.”
Yeah. My eyes burn. “Loved me so much he said I was a worthless piece of shit.” The words still sting. “Said it was all my fault, his anger, his drinking. Do you know he almost killed me a couple of times?”
There comes that wince again. It only serves to fuel my anger.
“I’m sorry, Ash,” he says.
“Yeah.” I am, too, because knowing Dad beat him like he beat me isn’t enough to make me forgive him. Not even close.
“I didn’t know.”
“Bet you didn’t watch closely enough, then.” I am so tired. “Just go.”
Half brother. That hasn’t sunk in yet completely. I guess it’ll take me some time. Maybe when the pounding headache eases and lets me think straight.
“I... The police contacted me when Dad died. They were looking for you, and they told me when they found you.” He hesitates. “They also told me some details. About Dad’s death.”
I force myself to look at him again. “And? How did he die?”
“He had a heart attack. Hit his head on the table as he fell. Death was quick.”
I swallow hard but the obstruction in my throat won’t ease. “Good.”
“Listen to me, Ash. Dad owed money. Huge debts. The house is lost. You can’t go back there.”
As if I want to. Ever. Still, the idea I can’t go back is like a kick to my stomach.
“You can come with me to Chicago,” Tyler says. “You could—”
“Chicago. All this time you were so close?” Oh shit. My head throbs so hard I want to throw up. “Fuck off, Tyler. Go back to your happy little life.”
“Ash. Come on, man.” Tyler’s voice cracks. “Give me a chance. Come with me.”
I ignore him. Maybe he isn’t even real. I let my eyes drift shut and it isn’t until the doctor arrives and starts poking at me that I realize Tyler has left as instructed.
And dammit, although I’m the one who told him to go, it hurts as bad as it did the first time. Hurts worse than my battered body. I think maybe the pain of his departure, his absence, never really went away; I only pushed it down so deep I could ignore it.
Well, it isn’t working anymore, and the thing is, I’m not sure I can handle it. Not sure I can handle anything on my own anymore.
***
A nice nurse, her hair in a long ponytail, helps me lie on my side so the doctor can check the line of stitches curving around my hip. Zane hovers nearby, his eyes red from lack of sleep, his clothes rumpled.
The hospital decides to keep me for monitoring one more day and the guy really needs to go home, shower, eat and rest.
I open my mouth to tell him just that, but something entirely different comes out.
“Is Audrey here?” I wince as soon as the words leave my lips. Needy, that’s how I sound. Whiny. Like a kid. Fuck.
I want to see her. I regained the memory of what happened—at least until the beating and my vague decision to head toward the park. But the nightmare of running in dark streets searching for her and the feeling of danger lingers.
And, damn... I miss her. Her bright smile, her laughter, her soothing voice.
“Why do you ask?”
“Tyler.” I swallow. “He said she was here.”
“She was,” Zane says vaguely, approaching the bed. “She came to see you last night. I told her she should go home to rest.”
That makes sense. “She must be beat.” Though I hoped she’d swing by.
Tyler said she was the one to find me. How did she find me? And why did she look for me in the first place? I want to ask her all these questions.
I love you. A faint memory of her voice say
ing the words. A dream. Hope flares and dies every two seconds inside me. It’s driving me up the wall.
“Yeah, she’s beat.” Zane steps closer to the bed, his eyes wide, trained on the doctor’s examination. “Who sliced you up like that?” There’s awe in his voice. “You should tell the police.”
“No way.”
The nurse standing next to the doctor tears open a package of gauze and wraps me up again, quickly and efficiently.
“Why not? Looks like someone tried to carve you open.”
I wait until the doctor and the nurse leave before I reply. “Someone tried to kill me, that’s what it looks like.”
“Because of the fighting in the club?”
“You know about the club?” I settle back on the bed. It’s scary how tired I get just from shifting on the bed. The doctor assured me I’ll be fine in no time but it’s unnerving.
“You told Audrey the name of the club and she gave it to me when the cops came looking for you.”
I freeze in the act of shifting onto my side. “Come again?”
“The Bulldog. You told Audrey and she told—”
“You told them? Goddammit, Z-man.” I stretch on my back and close my eyes. “That’s the reason I got sliced up. The cops went looking for me at the club and the owner didn’t appreciate the police sniffing up his doorstep. So when I showed up, he had his men finish me off. I barely escaped.”
Silence greets my words. I glance sideways at Zane. His face is white.
“Jesus Christ, Ash. I’m sorry, I never thought...”
Yeah. Me neither. “You don’t fuck with the mafia,” I say. “Lesson learned. Fighting there... It wasn’t my brightest of ideas, but I’d run out of options.” I need Zane to understand why I did it. “The shelters were full, and I had no money. I couldn’t stay with you forever, and I thought...” I sigh, my head heavy as lead. “I thought it was a solution for now, at least. Until I got my feet under me.”
He nods; rubs a hand over his face. “Now listen to me, bud. I get it, okay? But you’re acting like you have no-one in the world, and that ain’t true. You got me. You got Rafe, and Tessa and Audrey. Even Dylan. That tat I inked on you? The dragon? It means something. It means we stick together, help each other. Don’t you ever run away again, do you hear me?”
Whoa. Zane sounds really pissed this time. Red spots appear on his cheekbones.
“This means,” he continues, “never think I’ll leave you on the streets. You talk to me, we put our heads together, we think of a solution. Together. Got it?”
I nod, my chest tight. Too tight. I just can’t wrap my mind around everything yet. “Dad’s gone,” I say. I never thought I’d mourn him—but he was kind to me when he wasn’t drinking, and he’d been my only real family for so long. “The house’s gone. Job’s gone. I don’t know what to do anymore.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Zane says and sinks in the chair next to me, letting his hands hang between his legs. “We’ll figure something out.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Audrey
It’s now the second night Ash will be spending at the hospital as they decided to keep him one more day for monitoring. They aren’t very pleased with his lingering dizziness and want to keep an eye on his liver, as well, that’s apparently still bleeding a tiny bit.
Enough to make me terrified and restless.
As if that isn’t enough, Zane found me in the hospital cafeteria and dropped the bomb: The reason Ash came close to getting killed by the fight club’s goons is me.
Me! All I ever wanted was to help Ash, protect him, take care of him.
Instead I sent the fight club mafia after him because they thought he betrayed them, and so decided to off him. The fact he survived is a miracle.
Which means I’m the cause of his pain. I never imagined that giving the police the name of the club would result in this.
Stupid, Audrey. Naive. Ash’s world is so much harsher than mine, as if we live on different planets. Where my main concern is my astronomy exam, his is having a roof over his head. Where I get upset with my mom for not trusting me to choose my own friends, his is not to get killed by his crazy drunk father. I can’t even begin to imagine how he’s feeling, what’s going on in his mind.
And now he knows it was me who gave him up, that I’m the reason he was attacked. The thought tears me up inside.
I drink bitter coffee and wait for Zane to come back with news. The nurse asked that not more than two people stay in Ash’s room, and Ash’s brother was there, so I had to leave. I both fear and long to return to Ash’s side. Is he angry with me for telling the police the name of the fight club? Does he blame me?
He should. How could I have been so stupid?
My thoughts are with him every minute of every hour. I want to sit by his side and hold his hand, talk to him. Touch his bruised face. Let him know I’m here for him.
God, I can’t help thinking I’m like a princess in my perfect ivory tower and he’s out there, fighting monsters when I could just open the door and let him in. Can we be together? Can we connect our worlds?
Where’s Zane? I can’t stay away any longer. Not after the fright, thinking Ash was dying. Not after realizing how much I love him. I have to see him. If he’s asleep, I’ll just sit and look at him and hope then I’ll know what to do.
Time passes. Evening falls by the time Zane comes back to the cafeteria to tell me Ash is fully conscious and asking about me. He says Ash isn’t angry with me.
“Go home and get some rest, Zane.” I get up and grab my purse. “I’ll call if we need you.”
Zane nods dubiously and I hurry out of the cafeteria.
Visiting hours don’t apply to us. The nurses pretty much let us come and go as we please. I think it’s because they like Ash and feel sorry for him. I’ve heard them whisper about his dad’s death, the scars on his back, his bruises and his long-lost brother who returned out of the blue.
I walk down the hallway, find his room number, open the door and enter on tiptoe.
It’s quite dark inside. The green screen of the monitors faintly illuminates the room: the empty chair, and the narrow bed with the outline of Ash’s long body under the covers; his dark head resting on the pillow.
He looks so... alone. Which is a stupid thing to worry over. He’s doing better. I talked to the doctor earlier on and he said the bleeding in his liver has almost stopped, and he’s coming out of the light concussion just fine. He doesn’t need anyone hovering over him as he rests.
It still makes my heart clench. I’ll never forget the image of him slumped against the base of the tree in the cold night, his head dipping forward. How cold his skin was. How unresponsive he’d been.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat that seems to have taken permanent residence there, I quietly close the door behind me and go to sit in the chair by the bed. From this side, I can’t see his swollen jaw, the bruises, the bandage on his forehead. Light scruff darkens his jaw and chin and he has shadows under his eyes.
And still he’s so handsome he steals my breath. Memory doesn’t do him justice; it’s whenever I look at him, whenever I’m in full view of that beautiful mouth, that square jaw, the long lashes, the dark brows that speech and coherent thought desert me.
Why did I think gazing at him would help me find an answer? All I want is to kiss him, curl by his side and stay there forever.
I lean forward, brush black hair off his brow. Now it isn’t spiked with gel anymore, it’s all soft and tousled. Makes me want to run my fingers through it, tug lightly as I kiss him.
My hand stills.
Then strong fingers wrap around my wrist, startling a yelp from me.
“Auds?” The warm rasp of his voice sends shivers through me. Then his eyes open to slits, the pale blue peeking through. “I waited for you all day. I think... I must be dreaming again.”
The lump in my throat grows larger, obstructing my breathing. “I’m here now.”
He lifts m
y hand and places a kiss on my palm—hot and rough, and I feel the pleasure of it all the way to my toes. “I like these dreams.”
I frown. “It’s not a dream, Ash.” I pull my hand away. “This is real.”
It’s his turn to frown. “I thought... Zane said you left, and I...” He blinks. “Auds?”
Seeing him so confused makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time. “I had to leave the room when Tyler came, and then... Then I tried to stay away because I’m the reason you got hurt, and I feel so bad about it.” My voice cracks and I have to stop and take a breath.
He reaches for me and I take his hand, mindful of the needle taped on top of it. “The reason I got hurt? What are you talking about?”
“Giving the cops the name of the fight club. I never thought...” I swallow hard. “Didn’t realize I was putting you in danger. I’m so sorry.”
“Sh.” He tangles his fingers with mine. “It was never your fault, Auds. I’m the one who went and got myself into this mess in the first place. Fighting illegally, dealing with shady people. I was afraid I put you in danger, too.” He shifts on the bed and winces, biting his lip.
Alarmed, I try to pull my hand away and get up. “I’ll call the nurse.”
“No.” He tightens his hold. “I’m okay. Just give me a minute.”
I sit stock still until he gets his breath back. “Are you sure?”
He nods. “I’m fine. Just stiff and sore.” His chest rises and falls rapidly under our clasped hands. “What happened is not your fault. I was stupid. I thought I could deal with it on my own. But I can’t. Zane says I can talk to a social worker. Maybe they can help me. Because the house is lost. Dad had debts and...” He trails off, his jaw clenching.
“I want to help you.” I can’t look away from the pain in his beautiful eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me how bad things were?”
“I wanted to talk to you, tell you everything, but I didn’t want to heap my shit on you. I—”
“Don’t say that. You can talk to me.”