Bad Habit

by Charleigh Rose

  My phone goes off again from my pocket, and this time I’m ready to kill whoever is calling me. I check the screen—it’s a private number.

  “What?” I bark into the phone.

  “Hi, yes, may I speak with Asher Kelley?” a man’s deep voice asks.

  “This is a bad fucking time. Whatever you’re selling I’m not interested.” I almost hang up, but his next words stop me.

  “It’s about your father. John Kelley? This is Doctor DuCane from Banner North. I need you to come to the hospital.” His voice is firm, but somehow soft, and deep down, I already know what’s coming.

  “I, uh, I’m actually here already,” I say, plugging one ear with my finger and angling my body away from Dash and Natalia. “Is he okay?”

  “Oh,” he says, sounding surprised. “Where are you? I’d like to come speak with you personally.”

  The burning dread that had lessened to warm coals is back with a vengeance with each passing second.

  “I’m in the emergency waiting room. Is he dead?” I ask bluntly, cutting to the chase. “Just fucking tell me.”

  I feel two sets of concerned eyes on me, but I ignore them both. I don’t need anyone’s pity, and I don’t need this fucking doctor to come hold my hand.

  “I’m on my way to you now,” is all he says. I hang up the phone, flipping it around in my hands without looking up.

  “Everything all right, man?” Dash asks tentatively.

  I don’t respond.

  “Asher?” This time it’s Natalia’s worried voice.

  “I’m fine.” My harsh tone is enough to shut down any further questions. We sit in tense silence for I don’t know how long before a man in a white coat calls my name.

  “Asher Kelley?” His eyes scan the room. There aren’t many people in here, which is unheard of for a weekend. A couple of moms and their sick kids, an elderly couple, and us. I stand, stuffing my hands into my front pockets.

  “Is this your family?” he asks.

  “No,” I say at the same time Dash says, “Yes.”

  The doctor looks confused, but doesn’t press.

  “Can you both come with me?”

  Dash hesitates, looking back at Natalia, and she assures him that she’ll call him if there is any news on Briar. He nods, and we follow Dr. Bad News to a private room.

  The room has a couple of chairs, a coffee table with magazines, a TV, and some miscellaneous games for kids, but is otherwise empty.

  “Can you tell me what you know of your father’s condition?” he starts.

  “He has liver failure.” I scratch at the stubble on my jaw. “That’s about all I know.”

  “Yes. His condition has been worsening over the past couple of weeks. Were you aware?”

  I clench my jaw. He didn’t tell me that. He didn’t even hint at it.

  “No,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “His nurse found him when she went in for her shift.”

  “His nurse?” I ask, my eyebrows drawing together in confusion. Maybe he has the wrong guy. “My father didn’t have a nurse.”

  “He finally agreed to hospice care about a week ago. He didn’t tell you that, either?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  He steps forward, his hand coming down to my shoulder. I stare at it. He continues, “We did everything we could. Unfortunately, his cirrhosis was too advanced.”

  He keeps speaking, but I don’t hear the words. “We did everything we could.” Everyone knows what that means.

  At some point, Dash starts answering for me, though I still can’t make out any of their conversation. My mom is dead. My dad is dead. Briar is lying, hurt, somewhere in this hospital. And the common denominator is me.

  “Would you like to see him?” The doctor’s voice breaks through my thoughts. I shake my head. What’s the point, right? He’s dead.

  “Let me know if you change your mind, but it needs to be relatively soon,” he says gently, holding out a card. Dash takes it. “My cell is on the back. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. Again, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  Another shoulder pat, then he’s gone.

  “Asher…” Dash says, letting my name hang between us. The words sound foreign from his mouth. He doesn’t call me Asher. He calls me Kelley. I don’t think he’s called me by my first name once in the six years we’ve been friends. And for some reason, it enrages me. It makes everything more real. He wouldn’t be calling me that if shit weren’t fucked up.

  I knew this was coming. It’s the whole reason I came back. So, why does it seem like the rug has been pulled out from beneath me?

  Dash’s phone buzzes, and he reads the message on his screen.

  “The nurse said Briar’s okay. She just has a mild concussion, and we can see her in a few minutes.”

  I’m relieved, so fucking relieved, but I feel heavy. Like a dark cloud is over my head, tainting everything and everyone I come in contact with.

  Dash walks toward the door and pauses, looking back at me when he realizes I’m not making a move to leave. “You coming?”

  “I just need a minute.”

  He dips his chin in acknowledgment and pats the doorframe. He hesitates—searching for the right words—but there aren’t any, so he walks out, leaving me to the maelstrom of emotions going through me.

  My mom died because of me. My dad essentially died because he couldn’t handle life without her, which again, comes back on me. He died alone. That one’s my fault, too. And Briar. If I hadn’t insisted on going upstairs. If I had walked away from Jackson, instead of letting my rage control me, she wouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have come back. And if I stick around much longer, I’m sure it will be too late for her, too.

  Dash and Natalia are waiting on me. Briar’s fucking waiting on me. My father is waiting on me. I don’t want to face any of them, and stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced is the urge to bolt. I can’t fucking be here. I feel like I can’t breathe. My pulse hammers in my ears, and the room spins around me. Bending over and bracing my hands on my knees, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to suck in air, to no avail. I can’t get enough into my lungs.

  I need out. Out of this room. Out of this hospital. Out of this town. Then, maybe I’ll be able to breathe again.

  Chapter 14

  Briar

  My head is pounding. That was my first thought when I woke up in an ambulance, followed closely by how did I get here? Dash explained what happened, and slowly, the events of the last hour started coming back in pieces. Fighting. Lots of fighting. Lots of revelations. More fighting. Whitley pulling me backward by my hair. Then, darkness.

  Once we got into the room, the nurse took my vitals and helped me change into a hospital gown before the doctor came in to examine me. Now, besides having a splitting headache, I feel fine. I want to get out of here so I can talk to Asher—privately—about everything that went down. I can’t wrap my mind around everything that came out tonight.

  The door slowly creaks open, allowing a sliver of light into the room, followed by a light knock.

  “Bry?” my brother asks.

  “Come in.”

  Dash and Nat step in with uncharacteristically long faces.

  “Whoa, who died?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood, but they don’t laugh. They share a look that sends my heart free-falling to my feet.

  “Are you okay?” Nat asks, changing the subject. She comes to sit on the bottom of the bed next to me and brushes my hair out of my face to assess the damage.

  “I’m good,” I say, looking between them. “Did something happen?” Natalia looks up to Dash for permission, and that right there tells me that it’s bad. Since when does she defer to him? Or anyone, for that matter? Dash shakes his head.

  “Tell me,” I demand. “Is it Asher? Is he okay?”

  Dash’s nostrils flare, and I don’t even care to have the good sense to be sensitive to the fact that he just found out that his little sister and his best friend have been
sneaking around behind his back.

  “He’s fine, but his dad died tonight.”

  My hand flies to my mouth, and I feel my eyes welling with tears. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, needing to find him.

  “Where is he?” I ask, hopping down. “I need to be with him.”

  “Hell no, sis,” Nat says, pushing me back toward the bed. “I get it. I do. But you need to make sure you’re okay before you go saving someone else.”

  “She’s right. Besides, he said he’ll be here. He just needed a minute to wrap his brain around everything.”

  I reluctantly agree, sitting back and pulling the cover over my freezing legs—why are hospitals always so cold, anyway? But somehow, I know Asher isn’t coming. I can feel it in my bones.

  The doctor walks back in, stopping to wash his hands at the sink. “So, I have good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?” he says by way of greeting.

  “Good,” I answer, because I’m not sure how much more bad I can handle in one night.

  “Well, the good news is that you’ll be fine. Slight concussion. No need for a CT scan or anything like that since you weren’t unconscious very long and you’re not having any prolonged amnesia. It’s been about two hours since you got here, so we probably would’ve noticed by now if things were going to take a turn for the worse.”

  I nod, relieved.

  “And the bad news?” Dash asks, arms folded across his chest.

  “The bad news is that you have a nasty gash there,” he says, pointing two fingers in the direction of my head, “and you’re going to need a couple of stitches.”

  “That’s it? When can I go home?”

  “Well, seeing as how it’s…” he turns his wrist over to check his watch, “three in the morning, I’d rather have you stay here for a few more hours just as a precaution. I’ll let you go before shift change at around eight. Sound good?”

  No, it doesn’t sound good at all, I want to say. Ash needs me. But I don’t. I let him stitch me up, try to convince Nat and Dash to go get some sleep, and watch Supernatural reruns for the next six hours, all while calling Ash over and over until my phone finally dies.

  It’s eight forty-six by the time the doctor comes in with my discharge papers. I’ve been dressed and ready to go since seven.

  “All right, Miss Briar,” he starts, flipping through the paperwork. “You have a mild concussion. You might have a headache for a few days, so try to take it easy. Unless you’re planning to play any contact sports, you should be good to go back to life as you know it.

  “Here are the do’s and don’ts and what to watch for. If you experience any of these things,” he instructs, circling a section with his pen, “come straight back to the hospital. Any questions?”

  “Nope,” I say, signing his copy. He gives me one more warning about taking it easy, and then we’re free to leave.

  “I need to find Asher. Do you know what room his dad is in?” I don’t waste any time asking. Both Dash and Nat shake their heads. Ignoring their protests, I run in the direction of the nurses’ station with both of them trailing behind me. I smack my hands down on the desk, feeling out of breath and a little dizzy, but I can’t focus on anything other than finding Ash right now.

  “Hi, can you tell me what room John Kelley is in?”

  The tired nurse doesn’t even look up from her computer.

  “Are you family?”

  “No. It’s my boyfriend’s father,” I lie, ignoring the disapproving look on Dash’s face at the word boyfriend. I don’t know what we are, but “my sometimes fuck buddy, and sometimes enemy” isn’t going to get me the information I need.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, finally looking up at me beneath thick-rimmed glasses. “I can’t release patient information unless you’re family.”

  “Okay, then that’s my father,” I say through clenched teeth as Dash pulls me away by the elbow, apologizing on my behalf.

  “Briar, you need to calm down. He wouldn’t be in his room. He’d be in the morgue by now. You’ve had no sleep and a fucking concussion. Let’s go home. Maybe he’s there,” Dash says, and Nat nods in agreement.

  I know he’s just trying to get me back home, but I agree because he could be right. If I know Asher at all, he’s not sitting at John’s bedside. He’s either running or trying to numb any of the feelings that threaten to penetrate his wall of indifference. And everything he owns is currently at my house, so it’s a good a place to start as any.

  Ignoring the throbbing in my temple, we make our way toward the exit and pile into Nat’s little car. I take the back seat, thankful for the chance to be alone with my thoughts. I close my eyes and rest my head against the black leather. So many different thoughts war for my attention. My dad sending Asher away and never saying a word. Whitley’s part in all of this. God, all these years, I thought she was just an annoyance. I had no idea that she was at the root of everything. What must Asher have thought of me? This entire time, he thought I betrayed him. That explains why he was so cold to me at first, but why would he ever get close to me again? And John. Gone, just like that. It’s hard to believe we just visited him, and he was up, walking around, eating food, and carrying on a conversation. It’s funny how everything can change in an instant. And by funny, I mean fucked up.

  Any hope that I had dies the moment we pull up to the house and Asher’s truck is nowhere to be found. My pulse quickens as I punch in the code and walk inside. I can smell the faint trace of his cologne, and I can’t figure out whether it’s real or just my desperate mind willing it to be.

  I go straight for the media room. His bag is gone. I check the hall closet that he sometimes used—nothing but sheets and blankets—and right here and now, I know he’s gone for good. Only this time, it’s so much worse. He let me fall in love with him. And he let me have just a taste of what it felt like to be loved by him, too. Then he took it away, leaving that hole inside of me even hollower than before.

  I don’t know what it is—the weight of everything hitting me at once, or maybe just the lack of sleep—but I break down. Tears flood my face before I even feel them coming.

  “He’s gone,” I cry, turning around, and Natalia’s in front of me in an instant, bringing my head to her chest and shushing me like a child as she runs her hand down the back of my head in a soothing gesture. “Why did I let it happen again? Why do I do this to myself?” I knew I was playing with fire. I was bound to get burned. But rebellious hearts know no consequences. Bad habits are easy to make and impossible to break, and Asher was the worst addiction of them all. I let him crawl inside my body, and he burned me from the inside out, leaving nothing but ashes in his absence.

  “Bry,” Dash says in a hushed tone, and then I feel his hand on my shoulder. I turn to face him, and he pulls me in under his arm. I hug his waist to keep from slumping to the floor. I’m just so tired. Tired of lying, tired of sneaking around, of being hurt, of trying to please everyone.

  “Why would Dad send him away?” I ask through the lump in my throat. “None of this makes sense.”

  Dash kisses the top of my head and squeezes my shoulder.

  “I don’t fucking know, but I’m going to find out.”

  He says it with such conviction that I don’t doubt him for a second. And even though Asher is gone and nothing in my world seems good, I take comfort in the fact that I have my brother on my side. Someone who loves Asher as much as I do.

  “Listen to me,” Dash says with more authority than I’m used to hearing in his voice. “I know you’re upset, and I know that everything is fucked up. But, I need you to get some rest. I’ll make you something to eat, and then you need to sleep.”

  I don’t argue, because I know he’s right. Only I don’t know how I’m supposed to sleep when my whole world was just turned upside down. Natalia follows me to my room, and I pull out my favorite bloodstained T-shirt before climbing into bed and curling up in a ball on my side. Nat settles in behind me. We lie in silence
for a while, waiting for Dash, as she plays with my hair—my occasional sniffle or hiccup the only sounds. I must be a pathetic sight right now, crying into Asher’s T-shirt as my best friend tries to console me, but I’m too pathetic to even care in this moment. My head hurts from crying—or the fall, or maybe both—and my stomach growls, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon.

  I close my eyes, pretending that Ash is still here. He’d sneak into my room and wrap his arms around me, telling me that everything would be okay. That no one else matters but us. If I try hard enough, I can feel his breath on my neck and his stubble against my cheek. Eventually, exhaustion beats heartbreak, and I feel myself drifting off to sleep with Asher’s ghost.

  Chapter 15

  Asher

  One week later…

  “The fuck!” I groan, my voice hoarse as hell as I’m woken up by freezing water being sprayed on me. Where the fuck am I, and why is it so bright? I shield my eyes from the sun with my forearm and survey my surroundings. I’m in someone’s front yard, facedown in the grass. Not just anyone’s lawn—Dare’s—and he’s standing over me with the hose pointed in my direction.

  “Morning, Sunshine,” he deadpans. I have a solid thirty seconds of being blissfully unaware before I remember why I’m here and the events that led up to it. I ran, literally ran, the four miles from the hospital to Adrian’s place. Hopped in my truck, drove to Briar and Dash’s to grab my shit, and then hit the highway, heading straight for River’s Edge. I showed up at Dare’s door twelve hours later, then told him about the last couple of months, while I drank myself into oblivion. How did everything get so fucked up?

  “You had your pity party. Time to man up and deal with it.”

  “Fuck off, Dare. I don’t need your big brother shit right now.”

  “I don’t really give a shit what you think you need. I know from experience that you’re about to spiral, and then you’re going to spend the rest of your life regretting it. Trust me on this one.”

  That might be the most Dare has ever divulged about himself in one sentence. I know something happened, and I’ve always gotten the feeling that it was a tragedy, but I’ve never asked him. Dare likes to talk even less than I do.