by KL Donn
“Mr. Powers?” He seems shocked. “I didn’t realize Mr. Hart was an acquaintance.”
“He’s not.”
“I don’t understand then.”
“He’s family.”
“Oh, this way please.” The doctor trips over his own feet to appease Landon’s request now.
I quickly follow as we’re led to the recovery rooms, unprepared for what I’m about to witness.
“Right here,” he instructs, pointing to an ominous looking door. “Please make it quick.”
Nodding, I walk in alone. The swoosh of the door clicking shut behind me has me jumping in my own skin. Beeping greets me as I slip behind the curtain for my first look at my man.
As soon as I see him, my heart sinks to the floor, and my legs shake. He’s covered in bruises and bandages. Stitches line the right side of his jaw up to his ear. His leg is elevated in a cast that goes from his toes to halfway up his thigh. He has monitors galore. Tubes and IVs are sticking out everywhere.
“Oh, Declan,” I cry quietly.
Pulling the chair from the corner closest to his bed, I sit silently and gently grab his hand. Rubbing circles on the top, hoping to soothe him. I let him know I’m here.
“Please don’t leave me,” I murmur as a lone tear falls and plops on his skin. “I’m whole with you.”
His fingers twitch, and my eyes shoot to his face to catch his unfocused gaze watching me with a defiant, lopsided smirk on his handsome lips.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“How you doin’?” he croaks, his voice cracking.
Smiling softly, I love that he’s worried about me. “Scared,” I reply.
Just as I hear the door open, he says, “Promise me,” he licks his dry lips, “you won’t cut.”
I hear Landon and Dad’s sharp inhales at his words.
With my secret revealed, I feel like it’s going to be harder to keep this promise. “I’ll try.”
His hand grips mine tightly, and I know he’s dying to smooth his fingers through my hair and grip it like he has on so many other occasions. “Promise me, cupcake.” His voice is weak but threaded with steel.
I know there’ll be hell to pay if I don’t. “I promise,” I respond, hoping like hell I haven’t just lied to him.
“We have to go now, Ash,” Landon says softly.
Declan’s eyes finally land on them, hardening. “Take care of her,” he mumbles to Landon, falling back to sleep as soon as my brother nods his agreement. His waking up at all is a miracle the doctors inform us as we leave. He shouldn’t be conscious for hours again.
Foolishly, I hope it’s a sign that he’ll be fine…We’ll be fine.
“Cut?” Dad asks. “What don’t we know?” He sounds horrified.
“Not here,” I plead.
Neither man says anything as we walk out the door, leaving my soul in that cold, sterile room. I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens to him. If he leaves me, I’ll never recover.
Chapter 9
Declan
I’d like to kill that son of a bitch. Not for the pain I’m in—doctors have ridiculously good drugs for that—but for the fear I saw and heard in Ash’s voice when she came in after surgery last night. They said I wouldn’t remember much about the before or after because of the trauma itself, as well as the sedatives used for the operation.
I remember all right. She was nearly broken. The tears and anxiety mixed with uncertainty and pain made me make her promise something I don’t think she’s strong enough to keep. I saw Landon and her dad enter the room. That was partially why I said it when I did. They need to know exactly how close to the precipice she’s gone. That she is in danger of herself.
I doubt she’ll answer them any more than she feels necessary, same as I doubt they’ll understand where her mind is at. It’s why she needs me. Hell, I admit I most likely need her more. She brings a light to my life I had no idea was missing. It’s been a rollercoaster ride of emotions and conflict in such a short time span, but I’m confident she’s it for me. I will fight her to my dying breath to make sure she heals. That she’s happy and content. Anything. I’ll do it for her, no questions asked.
“Good morning, Mr. Hart.” A pleasant older nurse greets me as she walks in the sterile room.
“Morning,” I croak. My throat is dry from lack of use and medications.
Grabbing a cup filled with water and ice, she brings the straw to my lips. “Here we are. Slow sips,” she instructs.
It’s not long before she’s doing her routine care. Checking my vitals, changing my bandages, pumping me full of more painkillers and antibiotics.
“Can we tone down the pain meds soon?” I hate the grogginess that comes when I take them. I don’t like being any less than one hundred percent in control of my functions. These stop that.
“You had surgery to put your tibia back inside your body, you understand that, right?” Her sarcasm isn’t missed.
“What’s your point?” I don’t want to become a dick over this, but I’ll push it.
“You’re going to be in excruciating pain if we lower the dosage.”
“Okay.”
Before she can retort, the door opens and in walks my girl. “Fuck, are you a sight for sore eyes.” A blush creeps up her face as she looks at the nurse who’s chuckling. “Am I interrupting?”
“No, dear. In fact, maybe you can help me. Mr. Hart seems to think he can lower his pain meds already. He doesn’t understand the amount of agony he will be in.”
“Oh, no.” Ash looks at me, my hard expression doesn’t change. “I can’t see you in pain, Declan.” Tears well in her eyes.
“Motherfucker,” I grumble. The nurse laughs as she leaves, knowing she won this round.
“Come here.” I hold out my arms, trying to scoot over as much as I can.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” She hesitates, making me frown.
“Cupcake, I was just pumped full of said drugs, and I have about five minutes before I’m out cold. Don’t deny me holding the one thing in this world that means more to me than my own life.” She’s wavering. “Please,” I tack on with a pout.
“Only for a few minutes.” She relents.
I don’t care for how long she thinks; she’ll stay until I tell her to move. As soon as she lays down without jostling me, my hand goes directly to her hair, a tight grip in my fist, and she sighs. Fuck, do I love that sound.
“How are you feeling?” she asks me rubbing her cheek against my heart. I wonder if she feels half as at peace as I do having her close again?
“At the moment? Nothing.” I laugh.
I am lucky. Incredibly so. I should probably be dead. I lost a pint of blood, an artery was pinched in my chest somewhere and had I not been in surgery when it decided to announce itself, I’d have died. Almost did, anyway. Stitches, a concussion, a broken leg, and a few bruised ribs were as bad as it got otherwise. Well, plus the road rash. That shit stings.
“When will you get to leave?” she asks.
“Ten days or so the doctor said this morning.”
“Oh.” So much disappointment in such a small sound.
I can feel the drugs working their way through my system. My eyes are heavy and my brain feels sluggish. Pulling on her hair, I swear she purrs. “Don’t fucking move while I nap,” I demand.
“Okay.”
And just like that, I’m out cold. Safe in the knowledge that she’s by my side.
Ashley
* * *
So big, so strong. He shouldn’t be lying here broken. He should be back to his bossy self, ordering me around. Commanding whatever space he’s occupying. Now he just looks pale, tired, weak. I know differently, however.
For two days, I have watched him manipulate the doctors into lowering the dosage of his meds, claiming they made him feel worse. That he felt sick when he took them. I think his new doctor is onto him, though, and simply humors him because unlike smaller, weaker men, he’s healing remarkably well. As
ide from the leg, of course. That is going to take a while.
He has joked with Landon that at least winter was coming, and it’s not like he could ride for a few months, anyway. I wanted to cry that he could make light of his injuries. I haven’t told him that I talked to Becky the night of the accident, or that she made me an appointment here at the hospital with a psychiatrist. The appointment is in twenty minutes.
“What’s wrong?” Declan asks after I’ve been sitting and staring at the wall for who knows how long.
I want to throw some off-the-wall sarcastic comment at him, but I know he’ll get pissed at me, so I give him the truth. “I have an appointment in twenty minutes.”
“For what?”
Taking a deep breath, I blow out a puff of air and murmur, “A psychiatrist.”
He’s silent for so long I’m afraid to look at him.
“You afraid to tell me?” There’s no inflection in his voice, so I can’t figure out what he’s thinking.
“No.” I lie. “Yes.” I concede.
“Why?”
Why indeed.
“I don’t know. I’m afraid there’s something very wrong with me. I’m afraid I’m so broken that nothing will fix me. I’m afraid–” Focusing in on his dark gaze, I confess. “I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you.”
His eyes soften. “Woman,” he rumbles. “Come here.” I do as he asks, sitting in the spot beside his hip on the bed. He isn’t satisfied with that closeness, instead, delving his hand through my hair, he pulls me forward. I melt into his touch. “You’ll never disappoint me.”
“Never say never,” I murmur just as his lips meet mine in what feels like a homecoming.
“Ms. Powers?” I glimpse upwards from my seat, twisting my fingers to see a woman only a few years older than me standing there looking poised, professional—unlike…me.
Standing, I stutter, “Umm, hi.” More nervous now than I have ever been before.
Walking towards me, she smiles while offering her hand. “Hi, I’m Dr. Felicia Peters.” Her disposition immediately puts me at ease. Her eyes hold no judgment, and I need that right now.
“Ashley,” I respond lamely, shaking her hand.
“Follow me, and we’ll talk.” Entering her office, she asks, “Would you like something to drink?” I shake my head no. “Alright, well let’s get to it, shall we?”
Sitting on the edge of the sofa, I wait for her to begin. I’ve never done this before, having no idea how it’s supposed to go.
“Why are you here, Ashley?”
This is so much more intimidating than I ever imagined it would be. Being around a self-assured woman makes me catalog my flaws in a much harsher light. There is a saying, “Rip the Band-Aid off” …so, I do.
“I was a bully.” My heart accelerates.
“Okay.” She nods encouragingly, perhaps sensing I need to say more.
“I hurt my brother’s fiancée in a very profound way.” My chest tightens.
“Go on.”
“I went to jail for a year.” My breath catches.
“That must have been traumatic.”
I simply nod.
“I became the bullied.” My head swims.
“Oh, wow.” She breaths.
I’m not done yet. Time for the big one. I may vomit.
Rolling up my sleeves, I exhale. “I self-mutilate because it’s the only way to give way to the emotions festering inside of me.”
I watch as she stands and walks over to me, sitting down on the table in front of me. “Tell me, Ashley. Which one of those was the hardest to speak about?”
For a split second, I don’t understand why she asks that, but when I answer, “Being bullied,” I do. I do because for so long, I carried the shame of being the tormentor, that when I became tormented, I felt relief. I was getting my just desserts, so to speak.
“Why?” she asks hopefully.
And so, it begins. We break down of every statement I said. We manage to figure out what made my brain tick while I was being beaten. I admit that I feel like I received what I deserved for everything I did to Cecilia. She helps me to see that I don’t warrant it at all. She shows me that making amends, asking for forgiveness, and moving forward the best I can, are the rewards for all the changes I’ve made in my life.
Chapter 10
Declan
It’s been two months since my accident, and today is the day I finally get this fucking cast off and get a boot. Turns out the guy who hit me was drunk, had been arrested for three DUI’s before, and now has a nice cozy room in prison for the next couple years.
The healing process hasn’t been easy. Ashley has been like a little mother hen, not letting me do more than she thinks I can. Which with her tiny stature has been adorable to watch.
There has been a noticeable change in her. She’s happier, more at peace. She doesn’t carry such a huge weight on her shoulders anymore, and she’s finally stopped fighting me about us, thank fuck. I haven’t had the energy to argue that I’m sticking to her like glue.
She’s had a few bad days; I’ve had to hold her on the bathroom floor with a razor blade held between our hands to help her work through whatever is bubbling to the surface of her mind. She has a long way to go, but she’s working to get better for herself instead of those around her, and I couldn’t be fucking happier with her.
Seeing Felicia has helped her find an inner tranquility. Personally, I think having a woman so close to her own age to speak to and not judge her has been one of the biggest motivators for her. She still volunteers at the center because it gives her a sense of fulfillment she seems to enjoy. Thankfully, Zach was able to have that counted towards her full-time employment and community service, so she no longer has to work in that dingy fucking hotel.
“Mr. Hart!” My boisterous doctor greets me, breaking into my thoughts of Ash. He’s a nice guy, just a little too cheerful for my liking.
“Hey, doc,” I groan as I stand, more than ready for the cast to go.
“How are you feeling?”
“Fucking peachy.”
His laughter rings through the hallways of the hospital. “Jovial as ever I see.”
“Let’s get this fucker off.”
I have followed all of the instructions to heal the best I could, so I don’t have to wear this fucking thing any longer than necessary. Including not being balls deep in my woman every chance I get. And so help me, God, if this doesn’t come off today, I might blow a fucking gasket.
“Impatient are we?” He laughs again as we enter the exam room like he’s in on some big joke I don’t know about.
“Doc, if you don’t take this thing off, I will.”
He gives me a knowing look. “I see. She must be quite the woman.” Pride flushes my cheeks.
“Sure is, doc,” I confirm. She’s my everything.
“Let’s get you outta here, then!”
Finally free of any constraints after another six weeks of wearing that stupid fucking boot, I’m healed and have the all clear to maul my woman. Even after having the hard cast off, she refused to have sex. In ways, it has been good, in others not so much. Anytime I wanted to bury myself inside of her, she would give a killer blow job. The woman would inhale my cock until I begged for mercy. As good as that was, all I wanted was inside her warm cunt.
Now I’m on my way to the center to pick her up, and I’m keeping her in bed for as long as my cock can still get hard. I have three and a half fucking months of pent up frustration and need inside of me. Today, she’s mine. Feeling inside my jeans pocket for a small pouch, I plan to make it official.
Ashley
* * *
I hear him before I see him. It’s too cold for his motorcycle, but his truck has the same aggressive growl. My stomach is in knots as I watch his headlights roll around the corner…Again. I still wake up from nightmares of the accident, and not seeing him gives me anxiety. But when he rolls to a stop in front of me, it dissipates as if it were never there.
&nb
sp; “Hey, gorgeous.” His smile lights up his whole face, and I know his boot is finally gone.
“How you doing, handsome?” I purr into the open window.
“Get your beautiful ass in here. Tonight, you’re mine.” The growl, the possession, the heat in his tone has a shiver running up my spine.
Climbing in, he grabs my hand and places it on his thigh. That’s it. Simple, yet effective. Anticipation flows through me like the rivers of the Amazon. Fierce, powerful, intoxicating. I need this man like I need to breathe. Not just sexually, either. He’s the air I take into my lungs, the light that shines through my dark mind. Without him, I hate to think of who or what I would have become in the last few months.
It’s been a trying time, that’s a given. Nonetheless, my family has rallied together to help me take care of him. More than anything else they could have said or done, that proved I am well and truly moving on from the past. We are closer than ever now, with a new understanding flowing through our relationship since all my truths have been revealed. It hasn’t been easy, but for the first time in a long time, I am finally able to be the real me. The me I am meant to be.
The drive back to Declan’s house, soon to be mine as well, is quiet but filled with pent up tension from both of us. Since he hasn’t been able to work, the sneaky bastard has been slowly moving my stuff into his home, thinking I wouldn’t notice.
Little does he know it’s what I want too, if only he would ask. It’s not his style to seek permission, and I can appreciate it. If he were to give an option, there’s always the chance of rejection, and I’m not sure he’d handle that type of failure, not with me.
Finally pulling into his drive, I admire his small Tudor home. There isn’t much in way of rooms, but the acre of land surrounding it solidifies its beauty. Filled with trees of all kinds, it’s enclosed and private. We’ve watched the sun set on his back porch a few times, and as it disappears into the tree line, I always lose my breath at the magnificence of the simple elegance.
