by Rachel Cross
There was a crash, then arms encircled her aching, ultra-heated body. Asher’s arms. She opened her eyes. “Asher,” she whispered.
He didn’t reply. He was talking to someone on his cell phone.
“Sick,” she said. She looked up into his face and saw tears in his eyes. His face was taut with grief and pain and something else. Fear. His eyes were wild with it. She could hear him talking, but the words slipped away, her feverish brain unable to decipher them. He adjusted her position until she was more upright. She gasped with pain, but she could breathe a little better. She wanted more than anything to raise her arm to stroke his beautiful, tortured face, but her body refused to cooperate as her hands laid listless against her body. Another chill swept through her. Bone-jarring like the last. He stroked her hair with gentle hands. Sometime later, through blurry eyes, she watched an endless stream of people in uniform come through her door. That was all she knew.
• • •
She lay quietly in the bed, eyes closed. Hospital room. She’d been in enough of them to know. The smell of plastic and disinfectant was unmistakable. Opening her eyes, she took in the bright morning sun. She slowly turned her head and started. Asher was lying next to her on the bed. Huh. She turned her head the other way. This was an awfully big hospital bed if two of them could sleep next to each other. She gazed over at the chair in the far corner and blinked. What on earth was her mother doing here? Her mom looked up from the book she was reading and smiled. Closing her book, she got up and came to Maddy’s side.
“How are you feeling, sweetie?”
“Okay,” Maddy whispered back but it came out like a croak. Her mom held a cup with a straw to her lips and she drank, gratefully.
Maddy looked over at Asher then back to her mom.
Her mom laughed quietly.
“Oh, Maddy. You caught yourself a live one there.”
“Why is the bed so big?”
“He made them get the bed they reserve for very large people, threatened to bring in his own if they didn’t.”
Maddy managed a small smile.
“I got here last night. You were admitted yesterday morning. You were very sick, Maddy. They were on the verge of putting you on a ventilator.”
“I know Mom, but it hit me like a ton of bricks … ” she excused herself lamely.
Her mother’s gaze was direct. “The doctors think the new medication you were on turned a cold into pneumonia in record time. They want to try something different. They should be in soon to talk to you about it.” She looked past Maddy and frowned. “You should still be sleeping,” she scolded.
Asher’s deep voice answered, “Yeah, yeah,” and the bed moved as he stretched.
Maddy turned her head to look at him, heard her mother’s footsteps retreating and then the swish of the hospital door opening and closing.
Hot tears stung her eyes, making trails down her cheek, across her lips and chin.
Asher said something inaudible and gathered her gently to him, careful not to disturb her IV, murmuring and begging her not to cry, that it was his fault — all his fault — and it would never happen again.
“Ella?”
“She’s fine. She’s with my dad and Ben, but she’s chomping at the bit to come see you. She was so agitated her psychologist thought it was important for her to see you — to see you were sleeping, not dead, so she came last night when you were out of it. She talked to you. I told her you could hear her and she said yeah her mom could too and — ” Asher broke off and buried his face in her neck, with a keening sound, his hands clenching and releasing the rough cotton of her hospital gown spasmodically. His hands were gentle, but his body shuddered, against hers.
Maddy tried her damnedest to choke down a sob but it slipped out, then another. Asher waited until the storm of weeping subsided, stroking her hair gently from her face. Even crying exhausted her. She pawed weakly at his shirt until he figured out she was trying to pull it up. He rose up on an elbow, yanked it over his head and threw it down the bed. She laid her cheek against his chest, comforted beyond reason by his familiar citrusy smell, hot skin and the steady thumping of his heart.
She drew back as his words sank in. “With her dad? With your dad? Wait … what?”
He had pulled his phone out of his pocket and was busy texting.
“In a minute, Maddy, I promised my Dad and Ben I would contact them when you woke so Ella could come, okay?”
“Of course.”
He sent the message.
“Are you comfortable?”
“Mmm.” She tried to turn on her side but tethered as she was to the IV pole, it was a tough business. They finally managed, turning so she was lying on his arm and they were facing each other. Asher reached behind her for the bed controls and elevated it a smidge.
She trailed her hand with the IV attached at the wrist down his chest.
The door swung open.
“Good morning!” Maddy’s rheumatologist greeted them as he entered, followed by a group of people in white coats and Maddy’s mother.
Asher helped Maddy sit up. She noticed a couple of the doctors and interns trying not to stare at Asher’s tattoos and failing miserably. She snickered and he looked down in surprise. He was oblivious to the stares apparently and listening intently to the plan for her care. Despite her fatigue, she concentrated on Asher’s questions.
My God. He knows as much about my disease as I do. Maybe more.
“What about the investigational drug trials, the new generation of biologics?” Asher asked.
“Promising, Mr. Lowe, as is the gene therapy, but there are no guarantees. We won’t consider any dramatic changes until she’s more stable, and she won’t be discharged for a day or two.”
“I’m not staying here for the next few days,” she began, her tone adamant.
“Maddy,” her mother interrupted. “You’ll do exactly what the doctors tell you.”
Maddy set her lips mutinously.
The doctor and Asher discussed relapse, possible side effects of the new medications, rest and hydration.
Maybe he’s finally starting to get the picture. Like Trey did. It must be sinking in now that he’s not getting someone healthy. There’s no way he can accept what the future holds for me; the hospitalizations, the flares …
“What if I get a hospital bed at home and a private duty nurse?” Asher was saying. “Can I take her with me, or would she be better off here?”
The doctor sighed. “Live in private duty RN for the first day or two might suffice since she’s coming along nicely on the antibiotics. I can make a couple of follow up visits to your place if she’s not up for coming in. A hospital bed won’t be necessary if someone helps her when she needs to get in and out of bed. She may be tired and weak if she has a flare. We need to stay on top of this.”
They planned the discharge for the next day, and follow up care at home. Her doctor advised her she’d be weak for some time. That she could believe, given that she was weak as a mewling kitten.
She drifted, tuning out the drone of voices in the room.
Chapter 23
The next morning Maddy was instructed to get out of the bed and walk the halls or the doctor wouldn’t sign off on her discharge.
They were only a few steps from the room when Asher turned to face her. “Maddy, I love you.”
Her heart lurched and she smiled. “I love you too, Asher.”
“Will you marry me?”
She put a hand to his cheek. “No.”
He glowered. “What? Why not?”
She continued walking slowly down the linoleum floor of the hospital corridor, IV pole in one hand. He took three steps and caught up to her, arresting her progress.
“Maddy, stop. Why won’t you marry me?”
She k
ept her gaze on the hideous lemon yellow, gray-flecked floor, then put her shoulders back and raised her eyes to his. The hand holding the IV pole trembled and she clenched her fingers around it. He took a step forward and wrapped his arms carefully around her. “Is it because I wouldn’t tell Ben? ‘Cause, admittedly, that was an epic fail. I don’t know what to say other than I was in full on panic mode. I’d like to think I would’ve come to my senses without you as my conscience, but I’m not sure. I need you Maddy. And I’m sorry about everything that happened.” He swallowed. “I told you I’d take care of you if you got sick and … and I didn’t,” he said, hoarsely.
So, that was it. Guilt. About Dee. About her.
This wasn’t about love. Well, he’d get his out.
She held herself stiffly in his arms. “It’s not that, Asher.” She cleared her throat to eliminate the tremor in her voice, leaned away, and continued down the hall. “I don’t want to get married.”
He reached out for her arm again; she wrenched it away.
“Maddy, please.”
“You can let go of the guilt. Okay? I know you feel bad about what happened. All of it — ”
“You think I’m asking you to marry me because I feel guilty?” He stepped in front of her and raised an arm. “Hold up.”
“No, not exactly,” she hedged.
“And I’m not asking because I want to keep Ella either. I mean, I do want to keep Ella, but I think I’m going to have to settle for … well, I’ll lose custody. There’s no doubt about that. Ben is adamant and I know the court would never — ”
“No, it’s not that.”
“Then what? Jesus. I love you.” He raked his hands through his hair and for the first time she saw the lines of stress and fatigue etched into his face, his hair, run through too many times with anxious hands. Had he even been home to shower?
She pressed her lips together and blinked rapidly but managed to keep her tone even. “There’s no cure for what I have, Asher.”
He frowned. “I know that.”
“I’m sick, Asher.”
Now he just looked annoyed. “Yeah. I know.”
She scowled. “Asher, I have a chronic, progressive illness. I have fatigue, pain, mobility problems — ”
“I know. I live with you, sleep with you. You think I can’t tell when you’re tired and in pain? You may have been able to hide it from me early on, but not anymore. Not since I fell in love with you.”
Her heart rate accelerated at his words. It was difficult to draw a breath but it had nothing to do with the pneumonia. “I’ve been pretty healthy since we met, but I have flares, complications — hospitalizations. This is life long, Asher.”
“So fucking what?”
“There’s no cure. I’m not going to get better, but I will get worse — ”
“So? I mean, yeah, so we’ll deal with it.”
Tears filled her eyes and her hand went to her mouth. “You say that now, but it will get bad as time goes on. It’s the nature of the disease.”
He looked furious, temper leapt in those golden eyes, now red-rimmed with fatigue.
She took a step back. For someone with legendary control, he sure did lose his temper with her a lot.
He followed, his hands closed like manacles on her upper arms. His arms shook as he bent, looming over her. “You think I care? You think I fucking care about that? You know me. You know I love you. Maddy, I’d do anything for you. Anything. I never loved another person the way I love you. Before I met you, I had Dee and Spade, and a handful of good friends. I thought I had it all.” He rolled his eyes. “And then you and Ella came into my life and flipped it upside-fucking-down. I don’t know what is where anymore — all I know is I’m crazy in love with you and I will spend the rest of my life with you. In sickness, and in health. Bring it.”
Maddy stared, tears running down her cheeks.
He reached out a trembling hand and stroked it gently down her cheek, clearing tears that were making a salty procession to her mouth.
“I’ll take care of you,” he said, “if you get sick. We’re in this together, Maddy.”
She tilted her head. Longing surged through her as she shook her head. “But Asher, that’s just it, I don’t want to need you more — and I don’t want you to have to take care of me.”
He gazed, unblinking, into her eyes, a slight quirk to his lips. “Oh, Maddy, don’t you know? I’ll always be the one who needs you more. You were whole when we met, and I’m just figuring it out, thanks to you and Ella, but I still have a helluva long way to go. I need you to get there.”
He dug around in his pocket and went down on one knee.
Maddy looked down into his distinctive amber eyes, her vision blurred by tears.
“I love you, Maddy. Will you please marry me?”
“Yes.” she croaked, then cleared her throat, coughing. “I love you, too.”
He slipped the ring on her finger.
She plucked at his shoulder to bring him to his feet, then got a good look at the ring. Aghast for a moment, her sense of humor kicked in and she laughed until she coughed, leaning against him.
It wasn’t just large. It was hideous and large.
“Oh, God. Asher! It looks like a Superbowl ring.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “And here I thought you had such good taste.”
He grinned. “I do. But since I haven’t left the hospital, I had to get my dad to pick one up. His poor taste is legendary. Wait till you see his house.”
“Can’t wait,” she said, reaching up to kiss him.
Epilogue
Among the exclusive club of rock’s greatest frontmen, Asher Lowe tops the list. His rarified status isn’t just based on number one hits or platinum album sales, though Spade has plenty of those. No, it’s because he has that rare mixture of style, charisma, onstage exuberance, good looks — plus the vocal chops and guitar skills to back it up. Lowe has been in the news a lot over the past two years due to the death of his sister, his marriage and a single, “Home” that broke every sales record in alternative rock. In a candid conversation, Asher Lowe talks to Player Magazine about love, making his mark on music and finding himself.
So why is Spade doing a residence in Vegas and four shows a week? Your father has always lived there but you’ve avoided the place. You’ve gone on record saying you love LA and would never leave California. Why no tour?
Never say never, man. I violated a lot of my rules these last few years. [laughs] But seriously, Spade has been on the road for the last two decades and we were burnt. This way we can perform for our fans without having to uproot our lives. Most of the band live in LA and fly in. I’m here in Vegas with my wife so we can be close to my dad, my niece and her dad’s family. We may head back to LA at some point. I miss California, but it’s a short flight.
Your exploits with women were the stuff of legend and fantasy. And now you’re married?
Yeah. What magazine is this again? [laughs] I was that guy for a lot of years. I’ve always been respectful of women but very open to having a good time. [shrugs] Hey, it was all good — the partying, the women, the road — but things changed when my niece came to live with me. I realized that the life I wanted included family. And a lover who cares more about what’s inside my head than inside my pants. Before Maddy, I never understood why someone in my line of work would choose to settle down with just one person. And I think that’s why Spade’s single “Home” resonates with so many. Those of us who have found home would kill or die or change to keep it.
There was a lot of speculation about your wife’s health and the fact that she was your nanny.
Maddy’s very open about her health issues. In fact, she’s the reason I agreed to this interview. Spade is doing a benefit concert in LA on November 3rd for the Arthritis Foundation. My wife suffers from
rheumatoid arthritis, an inflammatory type of arthritis and autoimmune disorder that affects the joints; a disease that affects nearly one percent of the nation’s adult population. It’s a painful, chronic, progressive illness. There are treatments but no cure, and some of the most effective medications are very expensive. And yes, I hired her as my niece’s nanny and fell hard. I didn’t believe in love like that before I met Maddy — despite Spade songs to the contrary. [laughs]
What does the future hold?
I had a birthday recently. When I went to blow out the candles, I realized I didn’t have anything to wish for. I have Maddy and my Dad, Ella and her dad’s family, great friends and Spade. Hey, it’s not perfect. Loving someone who struggles with pain and fatigue on a daily basis, and being helpless when that person suffers, is tough. But I want to be there. Everyday. There are a lot of good times and more to come because Maddy and I will be welcoming a baby into our family in a few weeks. It’s an incredible life, and I’m the luckiest guy on the fucking planet.
About the Author
Fueled by black jellybeans and Pinot Noir, Rachel Cross writes contemporary romance that rocks. She lives in coastal California with her surfer/pilot husband and two daughters. Her past includes stints as a firefighter, paramedic, clinical manager, and Weekly World News tabloid model.
Read more about her at:
http://readrachelcross.com/ website
https://twitter.com/ReadRachelCross twitter
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Rachel-Cross/116558055203658?ref=hl Facebook
A portion of the proceeds from my sales of this book will go the Arthritis Foundation www.arthritis.org
SPIRALING
