by Erin Noelle
Crys rested her hand on my shoulder to reassure me. “Don’t worry. I’ve already talked to her and told her what happened. She’s catching a cab to bring her here to the hospital as soon as she lands in L.A., which should be in a couple of hours.”
“Is everything okay? Did you tell her I’m gonna be alright?” I questioned, my voice growing stronger.
Mom perched her hip on the end of the bed and reached over to pat my leg sticking out from under the blanket. “Yes, honey. Once we got a hold of her, we told her everything we knew. There’s nothing to worry about. She’ll be here to see you soon enough. Right now, you need to rest and get ready for the move to a new room. The nurse should be back soon.”
Time passed at a painstakingly slow rate as I waited for Scarlett to arrive. At least once every five minutes, I found myself looking up at the wall clock, willing the second hand to move faster around the white face. Around me a bunch of commotion was going on. An array of nurses and orderlies filtered in and out of the room to administer pain medication, monitor the noisy machines, and who knows what else, all while Crys and Mom talked about who would stay with me while I was recovering like I wasn’t right in front of them.
I tried to butt in a few times to tell them that Scarlett would be more than capable of taking care of me, but it was like I wasn’t even speaking. Who knows? Maybe I wasn’t. Finally, I just gave up and closed my eyes, allowing the drugs to work their magic on my throbbing lower leg.
“Ash, baby, can you hear me? I made it. I’m here.” Scarlett’s soft voice penetrated the strange place between consciousness and unconsciousness I was floating in, waking me from my morphine-induced sleep.
Warily prying my eyes open, she slowly came into focus and I couldn’t help but try to smile. Except it hurt to even smile. “Hey, butterfly,” I whispered, relived she was back safely.
“Are you okay? What happened? I’ve been so worried.” Her eyes scanned the length of my body, taking in all of the needles and wires sticking out of the paper-thin hospital gown, then froze when they reached the soft cast covering over half of my right leg, foot to mid-thigh. “I’m sorry, Ash. I’m so damn sorry.”
I patted the edge of the hospital bed and tipped my head, silently telling her I wanted her sitting next to me. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, silly,” I said as she cautiously lowered herself on the bed, careful not to bump into me. “It was an accident. These things happen.”
“If I would’ve been here, you wouldn’t have been out surfing by yourself. I could’ve gotten you help sooner. You wouldn’t have been passed out cold on the beach for who knows how long.” Tears streamed steadily down her cheeks as her chest heaved up and down with uneven breaths. “Your sister said you almost died. Like dead. Oh my G—”
She didn’t finish the last part as a loud sob racked through her body, leaving her shoulders trembling and her head hung heavy with unnecessary guilty. Clenching my teeth through the agonizing pain, I leaned up, wrapped my closest arm around her shoulders, and towed her down on top of my chest. My cheek rested against her forehead and I counted the seconds it took for our hearts to begin beating in a synchronized rhythm.
Three.
Three seconds was all it took for us to become us again.
For several minutes, we just lay like that without uttering a single word, allowing the power of touch—skin on skin—to speak volumes. It was silly for her to feel responsible for what had happened to me. The same exact thing could’ve happened if she was right there on the beach, or even in the water, and there wouldn’t have been anything she could’ve done to prevent it. But it made me feel good she cared so much.
The door suddenly opened and in walked the doctor, followed by my mom and sister, all three with unreadable expressions on their faces. Scarlett attempted to break away from me, probably embarrassed to be caught in such an intimate embrace, but I refused to release my hold on her. I needed her close.
“Glad to see you awake again, Mr. Walker. It seems you made the move upstairs just fine. All of your vitals have held constant and the meds seem to be helping you rest,” Doctor I-still-don’t-know-his-name remarked as he approached the bed, which I then realized was in a different room than before.
“We’ve scheduled the next transfusion for later this evening,” he continued on, his eyes shifting back and forth between me and my mom, “after which we’ll try you on some soft foods and go from there. You’re welcome to have ice chips or water now if you’d like. Tomorrow morning we’ll do another full body CT scan to ensure that both the spleen isn’t showing any additional damage and that the pins in your leg are intact, ready to be hard-casted. Do you have any questions for me before I go?”
I shook my head with a frustrated sigh. “No, it doesn’t seem like I have many options at this point, so I’ll do whatever has to be done.”
“Not if you want to make a full recovery, you don’t,” he replied with a meek smile. “Now get some rest and I’ll see you in the morning. Call the nurse if you need anything at all.”
Mom followed him out of the room, obviously to ask him something where I couldn’t hear, which irritated me. I was twenty-fucking-four years old, not a damn kid, but I was too exhausted to say anything about it.
“Do you need me to get you anything?” Crys asked from the end of the bed where she stood with her arms crossed over her chest, the stress and fatigue of spending the night in the hospital evident in her face.
Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back on the flat pillow and squeezed Scarlett up against me. “Nah, I’m good right now. Just wanna sleep. And her. Sleep and my butterfly.”
MASON
Never in my life have I enjoyed a night of blue-balls as much as I did the night of that first show in Vegas. After a single kiss convinced Scarlett to stay with me, we spent the next eight hours kissing, talking, crying, and then kissing more. God, it felt so fucking good to have her in my arms again, our mouths fitting perfectly together just as they always had.
I should’ve felt bad about Ash, but I didn’t. She belonged with me. Our breakup had all been a misunderstanding that should’ve never happened, and he fucking knew it. By the time she’d gotten in the town car headed for the airport, I’d successfully reminded her that there was something between us that was far from over, a connection that would never go away.
She promised she’d talk to him after she got home, letting him know her true feelings about both of us, but when I got the text from her about Ash’s accident not thirty minutes after I kissed her goodbye in front of the Hard Rock Hotel, I began to worry. It was almost as if he knew she was going to leave him and went and tried to get himself killed. Fucker.
Time. She asked me to give her time. Just long enough to return to California and assess the situation. Maybe a few days, but she promised she’d tell him soon. Whatever the fuck soon was in her book, it wasn’t soon enough in mine.
“Hey dude,” Cruz slapped me on the back as he walked up behind me. “I think everybody’s about ready to go. All the bags are loaded on the bus and Jag is lookin’ for ya.”
I flicked the cigarette onto the ground and stomped out the cherry, taking one last look at the Vegas skyline. Smoking was a nasty habit I picked up after rehab hanging out with my roommate, Andi. It was something to do with her hands when she had the urge to cut, and it helped take my mind off things when I was tempted to get drunk or high.
My therapist told me it was only exchanging one addiction for another, but at least this one was legal and didn’t lead me to making stupid ass decisions, other than smoking it in the first place. Funny though, the entire time I was with Angel, I didn’t think about lighting up one single time. She would always be my preferred drug of choice.
“Yeah, I’m coming. I just needed a minute to enjoy the wide-open space before we start living on top of each other in that damn metal box.” I sneered in the direction of the band’s bus, my only hang up about being on tour. The lack of privacy was a small price to pay for the
opportunity to do what I loved all around the country with three of my best friends, but I was concerned at the end of the six months, I would want to kill all of them. Especially Sebastian.
We walked silently across the scorching black asphalt parking lot, which was so hot I swore I could feel the heat through the rubber soles of my Chucks. Cruz hopped up on the bus first, and after one last silent goodbye to Sin City, I followed suit, fist-bumping and back-patting the crew.
“Where’d you disappear to last night, man?” Jag asked with a scowl. “I had several big name reporters interested in interviews, but you were nowhere to be found.”
Tossing my backpack on the bunk I’d already claimed as mine, I shrug my shoulders and avoid eye-contact with him. “I was busy.”
“Busy getting his dick massaged by some sweet groupie pussy,” Sebastian chuckled while pretending to hump the back of one of the captain’s chairs.
I glowered at him, my lips pressed firmly together, but didn’t give him the pleasure of a response. Instead Sophie, Aaron’s longtime girlfriend who was going on tour with us, slapped him in the back of the head for me. “You’re such an ass, Bastian. Grow up,” she scolded.
Jag sighed and shook his head with frustration. “Mase, there’s gonna be plenty of girls everywhere we go—more than you’ll know what to do with most of the time—but when I tell you I need you to be somewhere, I really fucking need you to be there. Last night was huge. It was the kickoff of this massive tour for you guys, and you’re the front man for God’s sakes.”
“Dude, chill out. I stayed and did your mingling shit until almost two in the morning. If someone wanted to interview me, they should’ve approached me before that,” I spat at our manager before reaching in my bag for my iPod and headphones. “Now, if everyone’s finished, I’m gonna take a nap. Let me know when we stop for food.”
Without waiting for anyone to reply, I slipped the buds in my ears, hit random shuffle on the player, and crawled onto the thin mattress, pulling the dark curtain across the track to shut them out. I was sound asleep before making it to through the first chorus of the Stones’ Wild Horses.
“Mason,” a soft voice called out while two small hands shook my arm. “Honey, you need to wake up. We’re stopping to stretch our legs and grab some dinner.”
I grinned in my half-asleep state, my eyes still closed, thinking my dream of Scarlett coming to tour with me wasn’t just a dream. She’d really come. Just like she said she would. And we could finally put the bullshit behind us and be us, like we were supposed to be.
Slowly, I lifted my heavy lids—still in need of another few hours of sleep, but eager to see my Angel—and when I saw Sophie hovering over me instead of Scarlett, I groaned as my face fell. “Oh, it’s you.”
“I know I’m looking rough, but you don’t have to be rude,” she teased, poking me in the ribs. “I was the only one nice enough to get you up for food. The rest of the group is already inside, probably eating their weight in cheeseburgers and chicken nuggets.”
Guilt shot through me and I immediately sat up to apologize. “I’m sorry, Soph. I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought—” my voice trailed off as I scrubbed my hands briskly over my face.
“I’m only giving you a hard time. Come on,” she hooked her arm through mine and tugged me off the bed. “You could use some fresh air and food. We’ve been on the road for almost seven hours.”
I followed her off the bus and under the golden arches, suddenly starving after getting a whiff of my favorite French fries. After we ordered and got our food, we joined Aaron, Cruz, and Sebastian at a table, and thankfully, no one mentioned the uncomfortable conversation from earlier. Jag wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and for the moment, I was just fine with that.
“How much longer until Boise? Anyone know tomorrow’s schedule?” I asked as I glanced down at my phone, hiding my disappointment of no missed calls or texts.
“About four more hours. We should get to our hotel around one in the morning, and then we have breakfast at ten before sound check at eleven,” Aaron, the responsible band member, replied in between bites of his McRib. “We’ve gotta be back at the arena at six to get ready for the show. They’ll have dinner catered for us there.”
I nodded and dipped another fry in the sweet chili sauce. “Cool. And Helena from there, right?”
“Dude, what the fuck does it matter?” Sebastian scoffs with a roll of his eyes. “Just get on the bus and when it stops, we’re there—wherever we’re supposed to be. We get off, play some kick-ass music, fuck a groupie or two, and get back on the bus. That’s your schedule for the foreseeable future. Stop acting like a bitch before this thing even gets started.”
“Fuck off, Bastian,” I grumbled. “Excuse me for wanting to know what goddamn state I’m in.”
Cruz slammed his hands down on the table. “Guys, we’ve gotta spend the next four months together, so you both need to chill the fuck out. I’m not sure what happened between you two recently, but you need to figure it out.”
“Your cousin seems to have a problem with my ‘no drug policy’ while we’re on tour,” I retorted, piercing Cruz with my stare.
“I haven’t said one thing about your stupid fucking rule,” Sebastian snapped back, attempting to defend himself, but I knew better. He’d been pouting like a three-year-old who’d had their favorite toy taken away when I told them my one tour stipulation. “I just want our front man to stop acting like a pussy-whipped bitch over a chick who has a boyfriend. The entire Vegas show should’ve been about us—the members of Jobu’s Rum and all of the time and effort we’ve put into getting to this point—but instead he made the whole fucking thing about her.”
Of course Jag chose that moment to join us, and as he stalked toward our table, his face burned with anger. Throwing down a newspaper in front of me, the first page of the entertainment section stared up at me with a picture of me and Scarlett sharing an intimate kiss outside the hotel this morning under the headline, “Music’s New Heartthrob Already Off the Market.”
“What in the fuck is this?” he snarled. “Do you not understand that seventy-five percent of your fan-base is females . . . females who want to believe in the fantasy that they have a shot with Mason Templeton? If they think you’re in a relationship—and believe me, it won’t take the tabloids long to figure out who you’re here with and y’all’s past together—then they’re not going to have the same level of interest in the band. And right now, we need as much interest as possible.”
I smiled. I didn’t fucking care how mad Jag was, and I didn’t care who figured out what. It wouldn’t be too long before Scarlett would be with me on tour anyway, and the whole world would know she belonged to me.
ASH
Six days after my accident I was finally released from the hospital. It may have been the happiest moment of my life. I was so tired of everything—the uncomfortable bed, my hovering mother (thank God Crys had gone back home to help Will with the boys), the terrible food, nurses poking and prodding me at all hours of the day and night, and most of all, the fucking catheter. There’s just something unsettling about having a bag of your piss hanging from the bed for everyone to see.
Visits from Scarlett were the only highlights of my day, and even those seemed strained. She’d offered to stay with me around the clock, but I’d made her go home at night to sleep in our bed instead of on the tiny excuse for a couch they had in the room. She’d return every morning, the circles under her eyes growing darker with each passing day, and sit by my side while she read and blogged.
We’d both try to make conversation, either about something I saw on TV or something she read online, but after a few minutes, awkward silence would ensue. Things were even tense between her and my mom, which I’d never expect after how well they’ve always gotten along. I kept telling myself that it was the stress of me being in the hospital affecting all of us and that everything would return to normal as soon as I got home and began my recovery. I hoped I was right
. I needed my butterfly back.
It took both my mom and Scarlett to get me out of the car and into the apartment, even with the aid of crutches. By the time they eventually got me comfortably propped up in bed, I was an irritable mess, already pissed off at how I couldn’t do anything for myself. I hated relying on people for anything, and in that state, I was forced to for everything, even going to the bathroom. It was going to be a long six weeks.
“Is there anything I can get you before I head over to the hotel?” Mom asked, brushing my damp, sweaty hair off my forehead. “You want another pillow under your leg? A glass of water? Me to stay longer?”
Pressing my lips together in a flat line, I shook my head. “I’m fine. If I need anything later, Scarlett will be here. She’ll take care of me. You don’t have to stay in California for me. I’m gonna be fine.”
She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then thought better of it and closed it. Turning around, she strode to exit the room and stopped just before reaching the door. “I love you, Ash. When and if you ever need me, I’ll be here.”
“Thanks, Mom. For everything. Sorry I’m so crabby, just tired of all this. I love you, too.”
Grinning over her shoulder, she nodded once and disappeared out of the apartment. After the front door closed, I heard Scarlett lock up behind her followed by the sound of pots and pans clinging together in the kitchen. I leaned my head back onto the mountain of pillows and blew an exasperated breath out of my mouth, wishing I could just hop up and go join her. God, how I wanted to pin her up against the countertop and take her from behind.
My dick hardened immediately and the first smile of the day tugged at the corners of my mouth. The rest of my body may have been all fucked up, but at least he was still healthy and operational.
Scarlett walked in the room carrying a tray of food and drinks and as she went to set it down in my lap, she let out a loud gasp. “Oh my God, Ash.” Her eyes grew wide as she stared at the tent in my pajama pants. “Are you watching porn in here or what? Where am I supposed to set this tray with that all in the way?”
