by J. L. Perry
Ashton Barclay is the epitome of sexy.
I push on his chest, but he doesn’t budge.
“You can’t pretend you’re not attracted to me, Em, we both know you are.”
He’s infuriating.
Egotistical.
And right.
You only have to look at how beautiful his parents are to know their offspring would be something quite exceptional.
“You might be nice to look at on the outside, but you don’t need to worry about that, I’m not the kind of woman that’s ruled by lust. I can control myself around you.”
His eyes dance with amusement as the smug grin on his sexy face increases.
“Like the control you showed just now when your tongue was down my throat.”
“It was a minor indiscretion. It won’t happen again.”
Shrugging out of his grip, I move to the far corner of the plane and take a seat. I’m so mad with him right now, my body is trembling.
I hate him.
I love him.
No, I hate him.
Thankfully, he takes the hint and stays at the opposite end. I can’t let myself get pulled in deeper. When he touches me, I lose all resolve. Ashton made it perfectly clear he doesn’t want me. I can’t forget that.
I won’t be fooled again.
Just after takeoff, the pilot announces we’ll be arriving in Utah in approximately an hour and a half. Odgen-Hinckley Airport is closer to my home town of Coalville, but since my father was taken to St. Mark’s because of their expertise in cardiovascular care, we’ll be touching down in Salt Lake City. The hospital is a twenty-minute drive from the airport.
That means it will be around two hours before we get to the hospital. I’m not even sure if he’ll be out of surgery by then. The doctor I spoke with before I reached the airport in Los Angeles said the operation can take anywhere from three to six hours.
I feel sick inside as I rest my head back into the seat and close my eyes. My thoughts are again with my father.
Please let him be okay.
“Emma,” the hostess says, bringing me back to the present. I open my eyes as she places a glass of white wine down on the small table in front of me. “Mr. Barclay suggested you drink this, it will help relax you.”
My eyes dart to him. He’s watching me intently as he sips on his scotch. “Tell Mr. Barclay if he wants me to relax, then he’ll need to strap a parachute to his back and jump out of the plane.”
Jasmin’s eyes widen.
I know I’m being a bitch. And the truth is, I’m grateful he’s here, but that’s not enough to erase how he treated me. Nothing I went through in my past hurt me as much as what he did.
Ashton may be here now, but where will he be next week?
Next month?
Next year?
Long-fucking-gone, I’m sure.
Chapter Thirty
ASHTON
Emma’s still ignoring me, but I’m okay with that. She’s angry, she’s hurting, I get it. I’m happy just to be able to look at her again, to be near her, and for now, that’s enough. I will, however, continue to steal a touch wherever possible like when we exited the plane and I placed my hand on the small of her back. Or when my fingers grazed hers as she moved past me to seat herself in the car. Or like now as I reach across the seat and take her hand in mine.
Call me selfish, but she needs it as much as I do.
You know that saying, ‘You don’t know what you have till it’s gone?’ There have never been truer words spoken. It took losing her for me to realize, but now that I do, I won’t rest until she’s mine again.
I’ll take Chance’s advice.
Be patient.
Be persistent.
And never give up.
Nothing will stand in my way of having the one thing that has made me feel the closest to whole again. I only wish I’d seen the light before I kicked her out and fucked everything up.
Emma’s so lost in her own thoughts she doesn’t even realize we’ve arrived.
“Em, we’re here,” I say.
I can see the fear in her eyes as she turns her head toward the hospital. She swallows hard before jerking her hand from mine and removing her seat belt.
The driver takes our bags out of the trunk, and I reach for hers, but she snags it before I get the chance. At least it frees up one of my hands so I can hold hers. That’s a positive.
Emma starts moving toward the entry, and I have to jog a few steps to catch up.
Reaching for her hand, I entwine our fingers together before she has a chance to pull away. I can feel her trembling, so I tighten my grip.
“I’ve got you,” is all I say. As hard as it is for me to see her in this position, I’m thankful she’s not going through it alone.
I’m sitting on an uncomfortable vinyl chair in the corner of the tiny room we were stuffed in, watching Emma pace back and forth, her dainty fingers knotting by her sides. She’s consumed with worry for good reason, but if she doesn’t stop pacing, she’ll wear out the linoleum floor. We’ve been here for almost two hours and still no word.
No news is good news.
That means he’s still alive.
I catch her on her next pass, pulling her onto my lap.
“Ashton,” she says, squirming. The movement gives me a semi. Inappropriate timing, I know, but she affects me in so many ways. “I can feel that, and you’re disgusting.”
I rest my forehead on her back and chuckle. “I’m sorry. You were moving around on my lap and—”
“Whatever,” she says, cutting me off. “Let me up.”
“No. All the pacing in the world isn’t going to get us news faster. Let me help by distracting you.”
“You’re delusional if you think I’m going to have public sex with you in this hospital… or sex with you, period, for that matter. Been there, done that, and it’s nothing I’d like to repeat.”
I chuckle again. “I meant to talk, sweet-thing. It might help the time go quicker.”
“I have nothing to discuss with you,” she says, removing my arms from around her waist and standing.
“Well, I have plenty to say to you.”
Emma blows out a puff of air, smoothing the palms of her hands over her hair. “Can it wait, please? I have enough on my mind at the moment.”
“On one condition… you come and sit. All that back and forth is making me antsy.” I tap the seat beside me instead of my lap. I don’t want to push my luck.
“Fine.”
“Thank you.”
She flops onto the chair.
“Did you mean it when you said you wanted me to jump out of the plane?”
I see a smile tug at her lips. “Yes, maybe… I don’t know.” Her eyes meet mine. “I’m not completely heartless. I said with a parachute strapped to your back… I wasn’t suggesting freefall.”
We both laugh.
I grab her hand, bringing it to my mouth, my lips grazing her knuckles. “He’s going to be okay, Em.”
“I hope so,” is all she says.
We sit in silence for the next half hour, my hand still wrapped around hers. But, when the door opens and a man dressed in light blue scrubs steps into the room, she tugs her hand from mine and springs out of her chair.
The doctor, I presume, and he’s a lot younger than I anticipated.
“How is he?” she blurts out.
A small grin forms on his lips as his eyes travel down to her tits before coming back to her face. It immediately gets my back up. “He’s doing remarkably well, considering.”
“Thank God,” she says, throwing her arms around him. As soon as she realizes what she’s done, she steps back, her face turning bright red. “I mean… um, thank you… I’m sure God played a hand it, but…”
He chuckles, and I stand.
“I’m Dr. Stevenson.” He gives her a full smile, extending his hand to her. “But you can call me Adam if you like.”
The hell she can.
“Emma.
Emma Phoenix. I’m the daughter.”
“And I’m Ashton,” I say, stepping forward. “The boyfriend.” I arch an eyebrow letting him know she’s mine.
“Right,” he says, clearing his throat.
My eyes dart to Emma, and she gives me a look that says she’ll deal with me later.
“Take a seat.”
I sit first, pulling Emma onto my lap. She doesn’t flinch, but when I wrap my arms tightly around her waist to hold her in place, she puts one of her hands over mine, slyly pinching it. I bite my lip to suppress my laugh.
His gaze darts between the two of us, and I pin him down with a glare. “Obviously, you know your father had a heart attack,” he says, his eyes now solely trained on her.
“Yes.”
“The artery supplying his heart with blood and oxygen became blocked. Fatty deposits built up over time forming plaque within the walls. If the plaque ruptures, a blood clot can form and cause a blockage resulting in a heart attack. In your father’s case, the coronary arteries became so narrowed we had to perform bypass surgery. The blockages were too severe to be managed with medication or other treatments.”
“I see,” Emma says. “And it was a success?”
“Yes.”
“So, his heart is okay now?”
“Part of his heart was injured by the attack, but the rest of the heart is still functioning properly. Because of the damage, though, it’s become weakened and unable to pump as much blood as usual.”
“Oh. Will that affect his quality of life going forward?”
“It’s going to take some time. He’ll be lethargic in the weeks and months to follow, but with proper treatment and lifestyle changes, further damage can be limited or prevented. If he can get through the next few days without any complications, I’m confident he’ll be able to return to a relatively normal life going forward.”
“The next few days?”
“Your father had major heart surgery, Miss Phoenix. There are always risks following these types of procedures. He’ll be closely monitored in ICU for the next twenty-four hours, and once he’s stabilized, he’ll be moved to the cardiothoracic unit for further treatment.”
“Can I see him?” she asks.
“Of course.”
“He’ll be in recovery for another half hour or so, but once he’s moved to intensive care, I’ll have the nurse take you in.”
“Thank you.”
I stand, extending my hand to him, squeezing it a tad harder than necessary. “Thank you for everything, doc.” I’m not a complete asshole, he did save her father’s life.
Emma’s eyes dart to me.
“You’re welcome,” he says, clearing his throat.
He turns, leaving us alone, and the moment the door closes behind him, Emma collapses into my arms. My hand strokes her hair soothingly, and she softly cries into my chest. They’re tears of relief and helplessness. He’s not out of the woods yet.
“And you’re not my boyfriend,” she mumbles into my shirt.
It’s only a matter of time, sweet-thing.
Only a matter of time.
The sound of our suitcases rolling along the floor as we walked down the eerily quiet corridor toward the ICU echo around us.
The nurse pauses when we reach her father’s room, turning to face us. “He’s just in there,” she says, and Emma nods. “The doctor has him on strong pain medication, so don’t be alarmed if he doesn’t wake up. The rest will only aid his recovery.”
Our fingers are entwined, and she’s clinging to me like a lifeline, the fear etched on her beautiful face. I’d planned on waiting out here, so she could have privacy with her dad, but now I’m not so sure.
“I’m here. I’ll be right by your side if that’s what you need.”
“Thank you,” she says, squeezing my hand briefly before letting go. “But, this is something I need to do on my own.”
My little warrior.
Stronger than she thinks and way braver than I give her credit for.
Emma takes a tentative step forward, reaching for the door handle. I hear her intake a sharp breath, and her shoulders straighten before she disappears inside.
Reaching for her suitcase, I move toward the seats lining the wall beside the nurses’ station. The large glass window into his room is now in view. Her father lays unmoving in the bed, hooked up to numerous machines. Emma’s standing a few feet away from his bed, but her anguish is tangible. My heart constricts. It’s a look very similar to the one she gave me the morning I asked her to leave.
A look that will forever haunt me.
Emma takes a step closer, followed by another. My chest aches as I watch her staring down at him. She leans over raining kisses on his face. When she draws back, I see her mouth moving as she swipes her finger under her eye, but I’m unsure of what she says—words of love and encouragement, no doubt.
Eventually, she takes a seat beside his bed and reaches for his hand, bringing it up to her face. Her eyes are clenched shut as her cheek rests against it. She stays like that, unmoving, for the longest time.
I want to go to her. I want to bundle her in my arms and kiss all her cares away. To tell her I’m sorry for everything I did, for everything I said. That I’m an idiot, and I need her.
I can’t breathe without her.
I hate that she’s hurting, and even more so that I hurt her too. I want to confess my fears, the reasons for doing what I did, so I can help her understand. And when I’m done, beg her for forgiveness. Beg her for a second chance. A chance for me to show her how much she means to me.
I want it all.
But, I’m terrified my all still won’t be enough.
“Hey.”
I stir awake to the sound of her sweet voice. Scrubbing my hand over my face, I crick my neck from side to side. These chairs are so uncomfortable. I feel stiff all over.
“Sorry, I must’ve fallen asleep.”
“You were snoring so loud I’m surprised the nurses didn’t have security remove you.” When I see a playful grin tug at her lips, I chuckle. “Here,” she says, handing me a cup of coffee. “I thought you might want this. Black, no sugar… the way you like it. The cafeteria was closed. Otherwise I would’ve grabbed you a sandwich or something.”
“This is good, thanks.” I smile when she takes a seat beside me. “How’s your dad?”
She looks tired. Deflated. “Still out of it. He did wake briefly, though. I got to tell him how much I love him… I’m grateful for that.” She gives her love so freely—even to me—and I just threw it away like it meant nothing.
Emma’s throat clears as her gaze moves to the floor. She’s trying hard to hold it together, I know her better than she thinks. She’s like a river amidst a flood, and it’s only a matter of time before the dam bursts.
I reach out, placing my hand on her knee. “How are you doing?”
“Okay, I guess. Thanks for asking.” I gently squeeze her leg before letting go, observing her as I take a sip of my coffee. “Don’t feel obligated to stay, I’ll be all right.”
“I want to be here… with you,” I say. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. “I’m not letting you go through this on your own.”
“But—”
I place my finger against her lips as my head dips slightly, so we’re eye level. “This isn’t up for negotiation. You’re here to care for your dad, and I’m here to care for you. I’m in it for the long-haul, Em.”
There’s a deeper meaning behind my words.
I’m not just referring to here in Utah.
I’m not giving her up again.
She’s mine for keeps. That’s if she still wants me.
Gazing at my watch, it reads almost midnight.
“Why don’t we go get a hotel room? We can grab a shower, some food, and a few hours’ sleep. It will do you a world of good.”
Emma stares at her father through the window across from us. “I don’t want to leave him.”
“Understandable, but yo
u need to keep up your strength… for him. You heard the nurse… your dad’s going to be out of it for a while.”
Her brow furrows as she internally battles with the conflict of leaving. My eyes scan over her, she’s thin, even her face is gaunt. The last few weeks have taken their toll.
“Why don’t you go?” she eventually says. “You can come back tomorrow if you want.”
I bring my hand up, brushing her hair back from her face. “I’m not leaving without you, Em.”
Chapter Thirty-One
ASHTON
It’s half past one in the morning when the cab pulls up outside her father’s home. Emma fell asleep on my shoulder within minutes of leaving the hospital. She’s exhausted. After getting an update from the nurse, who only confirmed what I’d already told her, she relented. But instead of a hotel, she wanted to come back here.
It’s a forty-five-minute drive from Salt Lake City, but the hospital promised to call if there was any change in his condition. Tomorrow, I’ll look into renting a car for the duration of our stay, however long that may be. I meant what I said, I’m not leaving Utah without her.
Pulling out my wallet, I pay the driver before giving Emma a gentle shake. “Em, we’re here,” I say.
“Huh.” She lifts her head in a daze, then wipes the back of her hand over her mouth, and I chuckle when I look down and see a small wet patch on my shirt from where she dribbled in her sleep.
The driver gets out to retrieve our bags from the trunk. The car’s headlights are shining on the front of the house, so while Emma takes a moment to get her bearings, I gaze over the property. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this. I remember her saying her father built it himself. Yes, it’s modest in size compared to my parents’ estate, but it’s definitely not a shack. It has a rustic log cabin feel with the exterior made up of stone and large wooden beams with a wraparound porch and two dormers set into the roof.
It’s unpretentious and homey—very Emma.
I’m eager to see it in the light of day. I’m impressed her dad built this. My father doesn’t even know how to operate a drill.
