by K. A. Berg
Thankfully, a few moments later, the nurse comes in with my ticket to oblivion.
Chapter Sixteen
Tanner
I’m relieved to find Ashley sleeping when I get back to the hospital in the afternoon. She might as well have reached into my chest and ripped my heart out when she kicked me out of the room. I know she hates me—I hate myself—but that doesn’t make the sting of her anger hurt any less. I have countless battles to look forward to with her from here on out, and the road ahead is going to be hard, but nothing will stop me from being here for her, not even Ashley herself.
“Hey,” I greet Quinn as I take the empty seat next to her.
She smiles sadly. “Hi.”
“How’s she doing?” I ask, unsure whether or not I want to know the answer.
“Worse than expected.” Tears well up in her eyes.
“What happened?”
“She said the accident should’ve just killed her too,” Quinn says.
“Goddammit.” I’d known her reaction would be bad, but I hadn’t expected her to wish she were dead.
Quinn sniffles. “She’s mad I called you too.” Quinn has always been the strong one. I hadn’t thought about how hard all of this must be on her.
I suddenly wish I hadn’t told Alex to take a night off. He’d wanted to come back with me, but I’d told him I’d be okay, completely forgetting about Quinn.
“Let her be mad at me, Quinn. Let her pin it all on me.” I’ve been preparing myself to take the blame anyway.
There had been a glimmer of hope she might have forgiven me when she woke up. She’d seemed to be looking to me for answers. I should have seen her attention for what it was though—I was just the only one in the room she knew. I see that clearly now, and it was a reality check.
“But it’s not your fault. You have every right to be here,” Quinn argues.
“It’s okay. I knew this was coming. I’ve done wrong by her, and because of that, she’s landed here. It’s on me. You’re the only one she’ll lean on, and she needs you. We know she’ll pull through now, why don’t you go home and get some sleep in a real bed? You’re going to need it.”
“She’s going to be pissed if she wakes up and you’re the only one here.”
I have no doubt Quinn’s completely correct in her assessment, but I’ve spent the last few hours preparing myself for the oncoming storm. Alex has tried to convince me to give Ashley some more time apart, but I can’t do that. I need to be with her, even if she doesn’t want me to be.
“I can handle it,” I tell her.
Quinn can’t deal with Ashley all on her own. Plus, Ashley can’t run from me here, we might as well start hashing things out now. I’d felt the anger radiating from Ashley as soon as she heard I’d gotten to see the baby, and I understand her rage. I’d be more than angry myself if I hadn’t gotten to see our little miracle. Ashley didn’t have the chance, and she’s heartbroken. I can’t fault her for it. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to wake up blissfully ignorant only to find your entire world has been ripped out from under you. At least I was conscious for it.
“Call me if she gets too unruly,” Quinn says, vacating her chair. “I really could use a good night’s sleep in my own bed.”
“Sure,” I say, watching her leave the room, knowing full well I won’t call. I want Ashley to lean on only me for a little bit, even if she doesn’t want to.
I take a look around, really taking everything in for the first time. Before, my focus had always been strictly on Ashley, but now that I know she’ll make a full recovery, the tunnel vision has subsided a bit. Of course, I’m only assuming she’ll make a full recovery. Hopefully, Quinn would have told me if anything had changed in the time I was gone.
There are several vases of flowers by the window I haven’t noticed before. Checking the message cards, I see one is from the paper, one is surprisingly from the Jets’ organization, and one from her friends at a place called Legends. I don’t know what Legends is, but they clearly know Ashley well enough to send flowers. The last arrangement is from a “Jason.” There’s no note with it, just the signature.
I can only think of one Jason who Ashley has ever mentioned, and that asshole has a lot of nerve to send her flowers. He’d better not show up here, at least not while I am… and I don’t plan on being anywhere else.
A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts of taking my aggression out on Ashley’s awful ex-boyfriend. I glance over and see the friendly nurse, Darla, standing there with a box in her hands.
She smiles despondently. “Hi, Tanner.” Darla had insisted on calling me Mr. Garrison during her first two shifts with Ashley, but I’d told her enough was enough and she should call me Tanner.
“Hi, Darla.” I smile back.
She glances at Ashley’s sleeping form in the bed. “I know she’s not awake at the moment, but I thought she might like to look at this.” She lifts the box in her hands.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a box of things regarding the baby we put together,” Darla says as she lays the box on the little rolling tray beside the bed before heading back out into the hallway.
I really want to know what’s in the box, but I decide it may be better for Ashley to get to do something before me. I’ve already taken the most precious moment from her, and I know she’s never going to let me forget it.
Taking a seat on the uncomfortable reclining contraption in the corner, I close my eyes, hoping to get a little bit of sleep. I’m sure I’ll need it once Ashley wakes up and finds me here instead of Quinn.
The sound of someone crying softly startles me from my sleep. My eyes slowly open to find Ashley weeping over the box Darla left on her food tray.
I attempt to rise quietly from my chair, feeling certain as soon as Ashley realizes I’m up, she’ll demand I leave again. The stupid chair creaks, and Ashley looks over at me, but surprisingly quickly directs her attention back to the contents of the box.
“Did you already get to see this?” she asks, sounding more sad than hostile.
“No. I thought you should get to see if first,” I say, glad she hasn’t decided to attack me the way she did last time. I make my way slowly toward the bed, hoping to get close enough to see what’s in the box before she goes on the defensive again.
“Hmpf.” She ignores my approach, never taking her eyes off the box.
I get close enough to see she’s looking at a picture, a picture of the baby. In it, he has on a blue crocheted hat, and he’s wrapped in the same blue striped blanket I held him in. The nurses must’ve taken the picture of him for Ashley.
“He’s so beautiful.” She sobs, dropping the picture back in the box.
How she was able to reach the box with her limited range of motion is beyond me, but with the urge to comfort her as overwhelming as it is, now isn’t the time to try and figure it out. I sit down next to her good leg, afraid of accidently bumping into her injured knee. At least her arm has a plaster cast to protect it. Even though I know she’s going to push me away, I pull her to me as gently as I can so she has someone’s shoulder to cry on right now.
“I know he is. He’s the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen—not that I expected any less. Look at his mom.” I know those aren’t the right words to say as soon as they leave my mouth, but it doesn’t make them any less true.
She pulls away from my grasp and glares. “Since you’re the only one who got to see him, tell me about him.” It’s not a request. It’s a demand.
I spend the next five minutes recounting everything I possibly can about my short time with our son. Tears flow from my eyes even though I’m trying to stay strong, and we both cry together until her mood suddenly flips from sad to angry again.
“How can you sit there and play the brokenhearted father?” She sneers at me as she scoots farther away. “You didn’t even want him. Don’t think I forgot about your little message you sent over with Melissa.”
“What are you talking
about? I did want him. I never sent you any message through Melissa,” I say, honestly having no clue what she’s talking about.
“Please. You’re really going to deny you sent her over to tell me to abort the baby?”
What the fuck? “I never sent Melissa anywhere, and I would never suggest that. Ever.” I have absolutely no idea where this is coming from, but I have a sick feeling I’m not going to like it.
“Melissa came to the condo the week of my birthday. She said you two were making plans for your future—together. She told me all about how you were going to take over her daddy’s company when you retired from football. She also informed me you would never accept the baby, and neither would she—since the two of you were going to wind up married anyway. She said I should consider doing everyone a favor by getting rid of him,” she says, her voice filled with rage and sadness.
Holy shit! I can’t wrap my head around what Ashley’s telling me. How could the woman I’ve considered one of my best friends for the last seven years stab me in the back like this? Melissa sure is lucky she’s in France at the moment. Otherwise, I’d probably end up in jail for killing her.
“Ashley, I swear to you none of that’s true—not one bit of it. She made one joke one time at dinner about me taking over her father’s company. I never ever agreed to it or even considered it, and I never thought about marrying her. Not ever. I may have lost my mind for a little bit there in the beginning, but I never once thought about asking you to abort our baby. There’s not a chance in hell I’d ever think about doing that, let alone sending Melissa over to try and bully you into it.”
“This is all your fault!” she screams. “God’s punishing you for not wanting this baby, but I’m the one who is paying for it.”
“Ashley, I swear to you I did want this baby. How can you doubt that after the last few months?”
We don’t get any further into the conversation because Nurse Darla suddenly appears.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she says sheepishly when she notices the open box on the bed. “I just came to see if you happened to have a name picked out. I need to finish his certificate, and all that’s missing is a name to put on it.” Her face is filled with anguish as she asks, and I can’t imagine how hard this part of her job must be. Well, I guess I don’t have to since I now know the pain of being the parent in this situation.
“Daniel,” Ashley says without hesitation, and Darla nods before leaving. She must have already known the baby was a boy and been considering names without me.
He had always been Sammy in my dreams, but Daniel’s nice too.
“That’s a good name,” I say, our argument momentarily forgotten.
We sit in silence, staring at the box containing the blanket and hat from the picture, as well as the picture itself.
Darla comes back about five minutes later, holding some kind of certificate in her hands. I immediately notice the footprints on it and can’t tear my eyes away from them—those tiny little footprints, no bigger than half my pinky finger. I feel the tears trickling down my face.
Without warning, Ashley lets out the nastiest snarl I’ve heard. “You bastard!”
I stare at her, having no idea what I’ve done this time. “He wasn’t a Garrison. He was a Mitchell.”
It’s then I notice the name at the top of the paper she’s holding in her hand: Daniel Garrison.
“I had nothing to do with this… but he was a Garrison, Ashley.” Was she really not going to give my son my last name?
“No, he wasn’t,” she growls at me. “He was mine! MINE!”
“Whoa! What the hell is going on?” Quinn asks, appearing in the doorway.
“This asshole had them give Daniel his last name.” Ashley sobs as Quinn approaches the bed.
“No, he didn’t,” Quinn says with a soft sternness. “I was the one who filled out the paperwork while you were still unconscious. I listed him as the father. They’d probably written Tanner’s last name as the baby’s in the paperwork before you’d even woken up.”
“How could you do that to me?” Ashley cries into her hands and mumbles to herself.
Quinn leans closer to Ashley, whispering in her ear, but I honestly don’t think Ashley hears a word she’s saying.
Quinn nods toward the door. “I think you need to give us a little bit.”
I shake my head as I mouth out, “Waiting room.” I’m not going home to my comfortable house while Ashley’s stuck here during the worst thing that’s ever happened to her. I’ll give Quinn the space she needs to get Ashley calmed down, but I’m not going anywhere.
Chapter Seventeen
Tanner
It’s been two days since Ashley’s meltdown over Daniel’s last name. When Quinn had come out of the room after calming Ashley down, she told me Ashley doesn’t want me here. It wasn’t a surprise, but I could see how hard it was for Quinn to say that to me. No matter how many times I insist it’s not her fault, she keeps apologizing.
Since being banned from her room, I’ve taken up residency in the waiting room, which is thankfully pretty empty most of the time. The hospital staff has been really good at keeping the attention swirling around my presence here from generating a crowd. Apparently, Alex asked Davis to get in touch with some head of something or other, and so far, the extra security staff he hired has kept any crazy super-fans out, which is impressive since I’m in such a public place.
The waiting room is quiet but covered in fucking Valentine’s Day decorations. This is the first Valentine’s Day on which I’ve ever been able to say I love someone… and she wants nothing to do with me. I would love nothing more than to fawn all over her today and celebrate our love, to see her face covered in the same delight as that of the nurses who’ve been receiving flowers all day. Some have gotten balloons, some candy. One even comes back to the nurses’ station with a big-ass teddy bear from a patient, holding a heart that reads, I love you. It reminds me our love is one-sided. I love Ashley, and she hates me. Even so, while she might not want me here, there’s nowhere else I want to be. If I’m being honest, I have to admit I’m holding out hope she’ll break down and want me by her side. It won’t happen, but I need to hope for something, or I’ll go insane.
Her parents came to see her yesterday, and reality sunk in a little for me. I’m really screwed if she’d rather see her mother than me. Not knowing what Ashley’s told them about us, I made myself scarce so her parents wouldn’t see me and ask questions. Quinn had already told me Ashley never mentioned the baby to them, and I didn’t want to make things worse by accidentally saying something I shouldn’t. They didn’t stay long, but I avoided the waiting room for a while in case they decided to hang around. Instead, I hid out in the little coffee area meant for the nurses where I could covertly keep an eye on things since it wasn’t a good idea for me to go roaming the hospital. They never did head to the waiting area though. They just stood in the hallway outside Ashley’s room, only two doors up the hall from the coffee cove, criticizing her, and I finally got to see firsthand why Ashley doesn’t speak with her mother. I’d been close enough to catch quite an earful.
“I just don’t understand what she was doing out that late at night. Why did she get a job as a waitress? If she would’ve just listened to me years ago and chosen a different career, she would’ve never had the need for another job,” her mother had said to her father, her voice full of disdain as she finished her little tirade. Then the two headed down the hallway and didn’t come back.
Now, I’m back in the waiting area, sitting amid the paper hearts and streamers, thinking about how those people are the polar opposite of my parents. I can’t wrap my head around how Ashley’s mother could be so awful to her. She’s a great person who’s great at her job—a job she really loves.
When I look up, I see my own wonderful parents walking toward me.
“What are you doing out here?” Ma asks before pulling me into a hug.
“She doesn’t want to see me. What are you
guys doing here?” I ask. I hadn’t been expecting them to come.
Ma holds up a large brown paper bag that looks as if it holds enough food for the entire floor. “I wanted to bring you something to eat. I know you most likely haven’t been eating.” She smiles softly. “I’m sorry she won’t let you see her, honey.”
“I admire your will to stay here and wait it out in case she changes her mind. You’re a good man, Son,” my father says proudly.
Somehow, I don’t feel as though I’ve made him very proud though.
“Not good enough. This is all my fault,” I tell him, choking back the sorrow. I’m not ready to break down again. I need to be strong for Ashley, even if she doesn’t think she needs me. I need her and focusing on her gives me something to do.
“It is not,” my parents say in unison.
“This was the fault of some asshole who thought he was better than calling a damn cab,” Ma says with so much disgust in her voice it startles me.
“That asshole just pled guilty,” a voice I don’t immediately recognize says from behind us. I turn around and find myself face-to-face with the detective handling Ashley’s case.
“Detective,” I say, shaking his hand. I can’t remember his name for the life of me.
“I’ve already informed Ms. Mitchell and Ms. Taylor. Mr. Michaels, the driver of the other vehicle, pleaded guilty early this morning on the advisement of his attorney. He was offered a deal of ten years. The evidence was there. He wasn’t getting out of it, but the prosecutor didn’t want to take any chances. It’s ten years flat, no possibility of parole,” he says.
