Wasted Love Boxed Set: Second Chance Romance Parts 1-3

by Charles, Colleen

  Henri offered up his private jet to fly me down so I’d made it to Florida in less than three hours. It felt like a snake of fear had constricted my throat. My heart hadn’t stopped pounding for hours. I didn’t know what I would do if I lost Quinn. Especially after everything we had been through.

  Please hurry, please hurry.

  I prayed for the congestion to open up and allow the taxi through, for time to stand still so I could get to the hospital on time.

  “Relax lady, we’re almost there.” The cab driver turned off the highway and I could see Sacred Heart Hospital in the distance. As the three-story brick building got closer, my anxiety shifted into overdrive, and worry flowed over me. Would I make it on time? What if Quinn had taken a turn for the worse? I checked my phone for messages. Nothing. Surely, that was a good sign?

  Glass half full, Ashton. That’s the kind of girl you are. I told myself over and over that Quinn would be okay. I willed it to be true. He had to be okay. We didn’t just go through all of this, finding each other again after ten years, and realizing that we were made for each other, for Quinn not to pull through this tragic accident.

  “Where do you want me to drop you off?” the driver asked, pulling into the parking area.

  “Front entrance is fine,” I said, throwing three twenties over the glass partition. “Thanks, keep the change.”

  I grabbed my bags and rushed through the front sliding glass doors. My heart pounded out of control along with my frantic panting. An elderly lady manned the receptionist desk and I quickly asked her for directions to the ICU floor. She pointed to a nearby bank of elevators and I yelled ‘thanks’ over my shoulder as I hopped on an open car, bags trailing behind me.

  Pressing a button for the fourth floor I blew out a breath. I was so frazzled that I didn’t realize someone else was in the elevator with me.

  “Ashton?” a voice called out.

  I turned to find Mr. Albertson standing next to me.

  “Oh, hey, Mr. Albertson. I didn’t see you…”

  He laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I just came in from outside. I needed to get a breath of fresh air. I saw you get out of the cab and held the elevator for you.”

  Trying to stay calm and steady my nerves, I asked, “How is he?”

  He gave my shoulder a squeeze as my heart thudded against my chest. “The doctor’s just met with the family. He’s conscious now and they think he’s going to pull through okay.”

  A flood of relief coursed through my body and a tear of joy slid down my flushed cheek. “Thank God.”

  “There are some pretty bad injuries, plus a question of how damaged his brain was by the impact. I’m sure the doctor can explain it better than I can. Quinn still needs our support and prayers more than anything.”

  It was all I could do to shake my head and stem a stream of tears from falling down my face. Quinn was still alive. I would take that. One day at time. We would get through this together. I vowed then and there not to leave his bedside until he was out the woods.

  “You know that boy really loves you,” Albertson continued.

  “I know,” I nodded, keeping words to a minimum. The lump of emotion in my throat didn’t allow for more. “I feel the same.”

  “Good. I think you two make a great couple,” Albertson said, not letting go of my shoulder. A solid pressure of compassion. “And I don’t want you to worry about anything else right now.” The elevator screeched to a stop and the doors opened. He took my hand and guided me down the hallway. “Now let’s go see him.”

  * * *

  Mr. Albertson had warned me about Quinn’s physical condition but that hadn’t really prepared me for the overwhelming feelings of helplessness when my eyes saw him lying frail and battered between the metal rails of his bed. Wires and lines snaked around limp arms and an oxygen mask covered most of his swollen face. So many bruises and so much crusted blood covered his face he wasn’t recognizable.

  I hovered at his bedside while Albertson spoke in low tones to Quinn’s parents. After a few moments, I realized we were alone.

  “Quinn, it’s me. Ashton,” I said, remembering that patients can still hear you when they’re unconscious. I pulled an orange, vinyl chair up next to his bed and sat down. Reaching down to grab his hand, I stroked the inside of his cold, clammy palm. “I got here as soon as I could.”

  No signs that he heard me but that was to be expected. His mom indicated that he had been in and out of consciousness since they brought him back from another CT scan. They were checking for swelling on the brain. So far, the medication they had him on was working and the swelling was subsiding, releasing the pressure in his skull. However, there was the matter of his left leg as well. It was severely damaged during the accident. Doctors weren’t hopeful it would recover and they discussed amputating it below the knee.

  My time in ICU with Quinn wasn’t nearly enough. The doctor only gave each of us fifteen minutes every hour to visit and an exception had been made for me because I technically wasn’t family. Rest was imperative so the medication could do the intended job and continue to decrease the swelling. I wanted to use my short time to tell him how much I loved him. If he’d only open his eyes, even for a moment, I could say the words. In the meantime, I hoped he knew that I was here with him. And I wasn’t going to leave his side again. Ever.

  This afternoon, I sat still in my favorite orange cushioned vinyl chair and called his name in a voice just above a whisper. I heard nothing in response but the beeping of the heart monitor. As I glanced out the window at the palm trees swaying on the ocean breeze, a movement caught my eye. Quinn’s eyelids had fluttered!

  “You had me very worried,” I soothed as I continued to stroke his icy hand. “But your mom said you’re going to pull through just fine, baby. I want you to know that I’m here. I’m not going anywhere until you’re better.”

  Quinn squeezed my hand without much strength. I almost missed it at first.

  “I’m going to stay here as long as it takes. I’m not leaving here until you get out of this place.”

  He gave my hand another light squeeze as tears flowed down my face. His eyes never fully opened but at least he was aware of my presence. I took a moment to say a prayer for him. I pleaded with God to heal Quinn and also to thank Him for giving us another shot at love.

  I sat there holding his hand and talking to Quinn for another fifteen minutes when the nurse kicked me out of the room. He still hadn’t opened his eyes.

  Chapter 5

  Quinn

  The rehab center was unusually quiet when I arrived. Normally, a flood of activity buzzed around me. Since getting out of the hospital, I’d been going to physical therapy four times a week. I’d lost the lower half of my left leg in the car accident. But that was nothing in comparison to the loss of my Nanna. And I’d killed her. I hadn’t really grieved her loss or the loss of my limb.

  The doctor had said something about severe tissue and nerve damage but it just sounded like white noise in my ears. I had a prosthesis fitted for my leg, the best that money could buy, used by Paralympic athletes. Getting the computer to sync with my normal activities required regular physical therapy to gain my strength and use of that leg back.

  I had also suffered major brain damage due to my head hitting the back of the seat. Luckily, my swelling had gone down quickly and I was left with minimum residual effects like short-term memory loss and the ability to recall certain words. The doctors had assured me that with weekly physical therapy I would get better. I knew that I had a long hard road to recovery, but I was determined to heal.

  Basically, I was a fucking wreck. Not a man worthy of a woman like Ashton but a pathetic invalid. A shell of who I once was when I was whole.

  The guilt I couldn’t eradicate was the guilt of my grandmother’s death. I was behind the wheel that day. It was my fault that she died. Because I’d chosen to consider putting her in a facility. Had I not done that, she’d never have been in the car with me. But
everyone else told me a different story. One that I didn’t remember. I had no memory of the accident. The last thing I remembered was the night before having dinner with Nanna and the night nurse. Watching TV and eating a pizza. The accident had wiped my memory clean of that horrible day.

  When the police detective interviewed me during my last days in the hospital, he’d said witnesses verified the light had turned green and I’d turned off the main highway and onto Henderson Beach Road. A landscaping truck ran a red light and plowed into the side of my car. The impact was on the driver’s side. I was lucky to be alive according to the paramedics.

  My grandmother, due to her already frail health, sustained a neck injury that she never recovered from. Basically her neck was snapped in half from the impact. I guess I should’ve been consoled by the news that the accident wasn’t my fault. But I still carried heavy emotion and grief. I should have done something. Anything.

  The accident brought Ashton and me closer than ever. She had kept her promise and didn’t leave my side until I was out of the hospital. Actually, she was still in Destin. Griffin had taken it upon himself to pack her things and bring them to the beach. Kind of like giving his blessing. She’d been living with me full-time while I recuperated. Both Henri and Albertson had given us flexibility to work from home while I worked on my recovery.

  “Quinn! You’re on time today,” Mark called out from the exercise floor. Mark was one of my therapists and had been instrumental in helping me regain some of the strength in my left leg.

  “I’m always on time.” I sat down on the mat and began my warm-up exercises. “You’re the one always running behind,” I teased him back.

  “Do an extra set of leg lifts for me this morning,” Mark said.

  I laughed, pushing myself. Being an athlete allowed me to drive harder than anyone else in the therapy practice. I’d never lacked determination. “You think an extra set of leg lifts is going to scare me?”

  This is how most of my mornings started out. Physical therapy with Mark. Bantering back and forth was his way to push me harder and harder. I dripped with sweat by the time I finished my warm-up and my main exercises hadn’t even started yet.

  Mark threw me a white terry towel and then moved me over to the exercise ball where we worked on my core strength movements. “You keep this up, buddy, and you’ll meet your goal by end of the month.”

  That statement alone caused me to push myself harder. Mark was the only person who knew about my ultimate goal. I wanted to propose to Ashton. I wanted to do it the right way. Down on one knee with ring in hand. In order to achieve this I needed to work on my balance. Having a prosthetic helped, but I was still learning how to stand, walk, and do all the other things that most normally take for granted every day.

  Ashton had given up her life to come to Destin and be with me. Support me through the good and the bad days. The days when I didn’t want to go on. Since the day after it happened, Ashton hadn’t left me. She was my cheerleader, my nurse, my friend, and my lover. The fact that I’d become deformed didn’t even seem to faze her. I had no idea how I could repay her for everything that she’d done for me. It seemed to put all the silly things we argued about that happened over ten years ago to rest.

  Today, marked the four month anniversary since the accident and I was ready to propose. So close to my goal. After this physical therapy session I intended to go to the jewelry store and pick up the ring. My grandmother’s will had left everything to me as her sole heir. Including a two-carat diamond ring that had been in our family for over eighty years. A beautiful antique ring that needed a little cleaning and a couple of stones reset. It was unique. Just like the girl and would look perfect on her finger. The one that announced to one and all that she belonged to me

  We’d already had talks about marriage. Ashton told me that she wasn’t in any hurry. She just wanted to focus on getting me well and back on my feet. Said she wouldn’t be happy until Grady could tease my scrawny ass from the middle of a surfboard. But I didn’t want to wait.

  The accident had changed me. Life is short is a crazy cliché, but I understood it first hand and that knowledge settled in, bone deep. I wanted to start a new life with Ashton. Have kids. Start a new business. Buy a new home. Do the things that people our age do when they’re building a life. I wasn’t going to let this accident keep me from those dreams. If anything, it had spurred me on. It gave me great purpose.

  “One more set, man. Then we can move on to the massage area,” Mark informed me.

  That encouraged me through the final, painful push. Massaging my sore muscles at the end of each session was the best part of therapy. My prosthetic had taken some time to get used to and I kept putting a lot of my weight and balance on my other leg. I finished the last set now soaked with sweat. Favoring my good leg I hobbled over to the table and lay down. Phantom pain. It was a bitch.

  “Quinn you’re doing so well I think we can go ahead and reduce your days to three a week instead of four.” Mark put a handful of gel on his hands and rubbed into my left thigh. “Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Sound good?”

  That was positive news for me. “Okay. Do you think we can work on my kneeling tomorrow? I’m ready.”

  Mark dug into my muscles and instantly released the tension and pressure. “You got a date planned?”

  “I would like to do this next week,” I answered. We’d talked about it multiple times in the past four months.

  “Then let’s get started tomorrow.” Mark put an ice pack on the sore area. “If you think you’re ready, then I’ll help you.”

  That’s all I needed to hear.

  Chapter 6

  Ashton

  I walked into the building and smiled at the progress over the last week. The electrician had completed all the wiring, the painters were starting on the reception area, and I could already see my vision coming to life. I hissed out a blissful sigh. All of it had come together like a woven tapestry.

  While Quinn toiled at physical therapy every day, I’d been secretly completing a project that he didn’t know about. With part of the proceeds from his trust fund, Quinn had bought an office building with the intention of us launching a new real estate business once he was at a hundred percent. However, he didn’t know that I had taken it step further and started renovations on the building.

  Our real estate office would be complete within a couple of weeks. After Quinn’s accident, Mr. Albertson told us to take all the time we needed from work and not worry about anything. I had approached him after Quinn was released from the hospital and told him that we wanted to start our own business. With Quinn having a long road of recovery ahead of him, we felt it was best to work from home for a while.

  Mr. Albertson told me that he wanted to retire within the next year and offered to sell us his business. We jumped at the opportunity to do that. It would be easier than to start our own company from scratch. Albertson wanted to keep the office building he’d utilized and just sell us the business so it would be more affordable. Even though it had been a financial stretch, we’d made it work. So Quinn had bought this new office, which was more convenient to our house.

  Now with his physical therapist telling us that he was doing much better than anticipated, I upped the renovation completion date. I wanted to surprise Quinn with a brand new office – complete with furniture and décor- when he was done with PT. I was a little nervous about how he would react. It had been hard to keep this surprise from him. A couple of times he had asked me to drive him by the office but I always had a good excuse. We had decided to repaint the outside and put up the new sign at the very last minute. Only a couple more weeks left and I would be able to show off the new office to Quinn. I could hardly wait.

  “Hey Ashton. Things are coming along great.” Diana Sinclair greeted me in the foyer.

  Diana was a top interior designer that I’d hired to finish up the design plans for the office. She came highly recommended by Albertson. Diana and I had become fast friends w
hile working on completing the office building. She was not only a talented designer but great about keeping secrets.

  “Hey there,” I gave Diana a quick hug. “I love the way the colors turned out in the reception area. You were right about the slate grey. It will add another dimension to the couches and coffee table that we ordered.”

  “You should know by now that I’m always right,” Diana said laughing and gave me a saucy wink.

  I smiled. “That’s why I hired you. You’re the best.”

  “So has this must be really hard keeping a secret from Quinn,” she said as she tried a bunch of different colorful throw pillows on the sleek sofa in the reception area.

  “Yes and no,” I said, fluffing the canary yellow option and standing back to consider it. “He’s been so obsessed with physical therapy and getting mobile that I think he’s forgotten about everything else. I know he wants to be up and running at one hundred percent like he was before the accident, but I’m afraid he’s pushing himself too hard. Even his therapist had to tell him to slow down and take it easy.”

  Diana patted me gently on the back. “Do you think maybe he’s afraid that he’s going to lose you again?”

  Diana knew all about our lovelorn past. I’d spilled the beans over a liquid lunch and a gush of worried tears. Thinking about her comment I realized that she might be right. “It’s something I haven’t considered. Only because I tell him every single day how much I love him. Everything that I’ve done lately has been for the benefit of us both.”

  “Because of his injuries and the partial loss of his leg, Quinn may be feeling that he’s less than adequate for you. He’s rushing through PT so he can move on with the next part of his life. Being with you.”

  I picked up the catalog with fabric swatches and started to thumb through it. Letting Diana’s words marinate around in my head, I started to realize that she was probably right. Quinn had been acting a little differently since his arrival home from the hospital. His doctor did warn us that we might see some behavioral changes with Quinn because of the damage his brain endured. They’d also sent him to some psychotherapy to grieve the loss of his leg and his formerly sculpted body. I still considered him perfect but they’d recommended moving through the five stages just as if someone had died. The doctor said that brain injuries were unpredictable and that some patients were never the same afterwards. It would take time – maybe even years – in order for Quinn to heal.