I wore the same clothes I had for days—black leggings and a too-large top that slid off my right shoulder, baring the camisole underneath—the outfit I’d thrown on…what was it? A day ago now? Two? I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t thought to dress for the party when I went in search of Nash, needing his arms.
My hair shifted, emitting the faint, sharp scent of hospital disinfectant, reminding me of where I’d been and what I’d lost.
I remained impassive, nearly limp in his embrace. “What do you want, Hugh?”
“To be a shoulder for you to cry on. I know you’re hurting.”
I blinked up at him. “Because Lindsay hurt you, too?”
He grimaced. “About that. There are some things you should know—”
Tears brimmed, and my breath ached in my chest. I whimpered, reliving Nash’s harsh, angry words.
Rejected.
Oh, I’d heard them all. He’d promised never to hurt me.
He’d promised.
Lindsay’s vindictive laugh, her bright, vicious eyes spun through my head.
Whatever Hugh said, I didn’t hear, so lost in my own mind.
After a moment, he reached for my arm. “He wants to see you.”
I sighed, my hands clasped. “He knows where I am.”
Hugh’s expression turned befuddled. “Didn’t you hear me? He’s in the hospital.”
I blinked up at him. I’d missed that. In fact, I’d missed everything. “Take me?” I begged.
Hugh nodded, his shoulders relaxing. “There’s the Aya I expected.”
I gripped the side-door handle the whole way to the hospital—the last place I wanted to be. But I needed to see Nash, make sure he was okay. I couldn’t lose him, too.
My stomach flipped. Except I already had.
Something about this entire situation bothered me. I was missing something. Something important.
“Aya?”
I blinked. We were here. I stared up at the hospital building, a sheen of sweat coating my forehead. I didn’t want to go in there, didn’t know if I could handle hearing Nash was dead. When the doctor had told me about my mother, I’d lost it.
Now, once again, I was supposed to walk in there and have my world fall apart? I shook my head wildly.
“No. I can’t. I can’t.” I slammed my fists against my knees. “I can’t.”
“Hey. Hey. It’s okay,” Hugh said. “Look. Cam’s there. He would have called if something bad had happened.”
I quieted a little. Right. Yes. That made sense.
Hugh exited the car and walked around to my side, but I was already out the door, running toward the large glass sliders.
He followed, gasping. “This way.” He pointed as we entered.
I froze again. My mind and body numb. Not the ICU.
I shook my head, my knees turning to water. I went down hard, shaking.
Hugh had already walked through the doors. I hugged my knees to my chest and rocked. I couldn’t go back in there.
“Aya?”
Cam crouched down next to me. I turned in time to catch his grimace, but he stayed on his heels, forearms on his thighs. “You gonna come in and sit with us?”
“I…” I licked my lips. “My mum died.” My voice cracked. “Yesterday morning.”
Cam cursed. “And now you’re back.”
“Is he…” My throat closed.
Cam’s face contorted. “It’s bad.”
“How…”
“Drugs. I don’t know what.”
I whimpered.
“Will…will he…”
Cam sighed. “I don’t know yet. Come on. Let’s get you inside.” He rose with a grunt and offered me his hand.
I wanted to take it. I wanted to go in, but the last time I’d been in there, my mother died. And Nash might, too.
He’d cheated on me, with Lindsay. Humiliated me in front of everyone. Tears filled my eyes.
“I can’t.”
“All right.”
“I…I need to go.” I looked around wildly. “I came in with Hugh.”
Cam frowned. “I haven’t seen him, but I was trying to get the doctor to tell me something. I’ll have Chuck drive you.”
I must have nodded, and somehow I got to the car with Chuck. As he drove me home, my phone beeped. Dread pooled in my belly, and I whimpered. I wasn’t strong enough to look—to see the words. Nash was dead. Chuck slid into my driveway and side-eyed me.
“Would you…” I held out my phone.
His big paw touched mine, our fingers brushing. “Need the passcode.”
I rattled it off. He opened the app and bit out a low curse.
I snatched the phone from his hand and read the text: He’s mine now.
I gaped at the photos of Nash wrapped around Lindsay at the party. Below those were a bunch of links to various social media sites. All of them noted that Nash had dumped me because I was too nerdy, too ugly, or no fun.
Chuck laid his hand on my shoulder. “This isn’t right.”
“This is exactly what he chose,” I said. My tears dried as I stiffened my spine. “Be sure to tell Cam I’m no longer part of Nash’s world. Thanks for the ride.”
I exited the vehicle, ignoring Chuck’s glower. I headed inside to more notifications. Hundreds of them, all piling on about how I’d never deserved Nash, how I wasn’t good enough.
I turned off my phone and sank to the tile floor. Mrs. Ombly found me there sometime later and helped me up to my bed. I huddled there the rest of the night, not sleeping, unseeing, hating Nash Porter for making me love him.
28
Nash
Lindsay had doped me up on a breath-mint strip of N-BOMe, which was as potent as methamphetamine and LSD, combined. I was lucky, the doctors said, that she hadn’t killed me.
I’d learned that my aggression toward her was a common side effect of the chemicals flowing through me. After such a strong reaction, the doctors had expected me to seize, maybe even go into organ failure. But I hadn’t—in part because of the Narcan and sedatives they’d administered to counteract the drug. I’d been pumped with fluids and my vitals monitored all that night and into the next day.
Now, two days after Lindsay’s sick prank, I still felt weak and shaky, but mostly I was pissed that Aya wasn’t answering my calls.
It was like she’d fallen off a cliff, and I’d been stuck in this bed, unable to search for her. That ended now.
Steve told me my mother was on her way to see me. I stared at him for a long moment, then shook my head.
“I don’t want to see her.”
“She’s worried—”
“Then she should have been around the last couple of years,” I snapped.
Steve clenched his jaw .
“I’m serious. I don’t want to see her.”
“I’ll let her know,” he muttered before stepping out of the room.
I looked up as Cam and Chuck stepped in, followed by Mama Grace. She scooted around the men and fluffed my pillows, fussing over me. I smiled at her, but my eyes darted back to the door, looking for Aya.
“She’s not here,” Cam said. He frowned, his brows tugging low over his nose. “She came yesterday, but she fell apart at the ICU doors.”
I clenched my fist. “Because of her mom.”
Cam nodded, eyes sad. “She told me her mother died.”
Mama Grace gasped. “That sweet girl lost her mother?”
I nodded. “Yeah. She’s got to be so broken up. They were close. Really close.” I clenched my fists, despising my inability to leave, to go to her. “I don’t know anything else. I can’t get a hold of her.”
“About that,” Chuck rumbled. “I took her home, and she got a text on the way. It said, ‘He’s mine now.’ And there were pictures of you with some tall blonde.”
“Nash!” Mama Grace’s hand fluttered to her mouth.
“Lindsay,” I croaked. “It had to be. She doesn’t like Aya.”
My head and muscles ached. All of them.
I felt like I’d been beaten with a plumber’s wrench.
“She’s the one who drugged you,” Steve said, stepping out of the corner.
I glared at him, but he held my stare.
“Aya wasn’t in a good headspace when she got out of the car,” Chuck said.
“Nash doesn’t need this stress now,” Steve said. “He needs to rest. To heal.”
“I need to make sure Aya’s okay,” I said. “Give me my phone so I can call her.”
Steve handed it over, but only because the others watched. His tight expression proved he wanted to deny me.
“Can I get a minute?” I asked.
Mama Grace kissed my forehead. “See you soon, honey.”
Cam and Chuck eased Steve from the room.
I dialed Aya’s number.
I frowned as the phone rang and rang.
Finally, she answered. “Nash?”
“Ay. Yeah, it’s me. How are you?”
“Why are you calling?”
I frowned. Her tone was distant, unlike her normal warmth.
“I wanted to talk to you. To see how you’re doing—Ay, I’m so damn sorry about your mom.”
“Why?”
I shifted on the bed. “What do you mean why? And you don’t care that I almost died?”
“I did. I do.”
Her tone softened. That sounded like my girl. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and basked in her love.
She cleared her throat. “I saw the pictures and comments of you and Lindsay.”
My eyes flashed open. “You have to know that’s all bullshit.”
“I asked you, Nash. I asked you if you loved me.” Her breath broke. “I guess I should have realized, but I still can’t believe you did that.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“Can’t you just stop? You humiliated me in front of everyone,” she hissed. “And now—what? You want to be friends?”
“I don’t want to be friends. You’re my girlfriend.”
But Aya had hung up. She hung up on me. I stared at my phone, my mouth gaping.
I still stared at it when Cam and Chuck reentered the room.
I looked up at them. “She hung up on me. She said I humiliated her.”
Chuck’s face turned pensive. “The pictures were bad.”
“But…”
Cam worked his jaw. “You gotta stay in front of these stories. Now that you’re a known name, you’re going to get news.”
“But Aya didn’t believe me.”
Cam pulled up a site and pressed play. I watched me, clearly wasted, screaming, “I don’t want you.”
Lindsay’s triumphant smile preceded her arms wrapping around me. She repeated the words to Aya. The camera panned to Aya’s devastation. The video cut out.
“It’s on YouTube,” Chuck said. “It’s already got tens of thousands of views.”
I licked my dry lips and shook my head. “She has to know I’d never hurt her.”
“Does she? Cuz from this angle, that’s exactly what it looks like,” Cam said.
I met his gaze, feeling desperate. “What do I do?”
He sighed. “Get better. Get a lid on this, best you can. That’s what Asher’s label’s PR team is for.”
“But Aya…” I closed my eyes. “I’ll have to do those things to get her to listen to reason.”
“Pressing charges against the mean girl would go a long way,” Chuck added.
When Cam shot him a look, Chuck shrugged. “I hate bullies. You know that.”
“I already filed for Nash,” Steve said, stepping back into the room. “In fact, there’s a detective here who wants to talk to you.”
For the next two days, I had to work through lawyers and all sorts of other BS just to get Lindsay charged with the drugging. Luckily, everyone at the party had a phone—and had used it to film me—so the case against Lindsay might just stick. Except that her parents had shipped her back to England as soon as they’d learned about the incident, no doubt hoping to avoid extradition.
But as much as I wanted Lindsay to pay, I was more worried about Aya. She hadn’t taken another one of my calls or answered my texts.
And I had to deal with my mother’s tear-filled messages, but I held firm, refusing to see her. Steve looked more and more pissed each time he returned to my room, no doubt frustrated with my mother’s drama.
Well, that made two of us.
When I couldn’t stand it anymore, I called and begged Hugh to go to Aya’s house and check on her. I was still stuck in the damn hospital bed, unable to leave, thanks to my heartbeat, which still popped up irregular from time to time. My medical team refused to let me go until my EKG was normal.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Steve asked as I ended the call.
I’d risen from the bed, and he hovered nearby. He’d become an autocratic asshole since Brad had spilled my mother’s secrets, and I couldn’t stand his self-importance, or his supposed—and fake—interest in me.
“To the bathroom,” I said. My insides felt like they’d been dipped in acid.
He grunted. “You still not talking to me?”
“Did you manage to talk to Aya?”
“No.”
“Are you still the asshole who banged my mom and lied to me about taking a job so you could be near her, not your possible kid?”
He sighed. “Nash—”
“Yeah, we don’t have anything to talk about.”
Steve finally left me to piss in peace. Fuck him. Fuck Pop Syad. Fuck my mother, too.
I pulled Aya’s mala beads from the pocket of my sweatpants. I’d taken them the night everything fell apart. I’d planned to give them back to her, but then it all went to shit. I fingered the tassel, wishing it was her soft hair.
Much as I wanted to send her another text, telling her how much I missed her, how sorry I was about her mom, I was afraid. Our conversation yesterday had been frosty—so unlike the warm, sweet woman I’d spent so much time building a life with this past year.
29
Aya
The door chimed. My pulse leaped. Nash. He would take me in his arms and hold me. This was all a mistake. A terrible mistake. My breath caught, hope surging.
My father strolled into the living room.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. My voice felt dull. I felt dull. Broken. Tired.
“Your housekeeper informed me of Sofia’s death.”
His jowly countenance neared, and I realized he planned to hug me. I stiffened. “You don’t like me.”
He sighed as he dropped his tweed-clad arms. “It’s never been an issue of like or love, Aya. Life’s more complicated than that.”
No, it isn’t. He’d made it clear he didn’t want me around. I wanted Nash to hold me. Except I didn’t. My skin prickled with shame. Humiliation flowed over me in a noxious, painful cloud.
My father led me to one of the sofas in the living room. I curled inward once more, not liking the cool, almost clinical feel of the supple leather against my bare shoulder. Everything hurt. Everything. I hadn’t known that was possible. My breath hitched, but my eyes remained dry.
“I think it best I take you home,” my father announced.
“I don’t want to live in England. I’m going to UT in the fall.”
My father stood over me, hands clasped behind his back. “We’ll ensure you have a spot in a program in England. You’ll want family near as you grieve. Perhaps a semester off, to spend time with Harriet and me, would do you good. You can build a relationship with your sisters.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to leave. This is my home.”
He waved away my words like they meant nothing.
I looked over to see Mrs. Ombly hovered in the open doorway between the kitchen and the living area, clearly unsure how to proceed. I glared at her, angry she’d brought my father into my life. He was already steamrolling my wishes.
“We’ll bury Sofia tomorrow,” he once again announced, pay
ing no mind to my sputters of indignation. “And we’ll fly back for the weekend.”
I rose, my hands fisted. “I’m not going to England. This is my home.”
He raised his eyebrows, which caused his round, fleshy cheeks to jiggle. “Really? And where are all the concerned friends? Your mother’s mourners?”
I closed my eyes as he pointed out the truth: no one wanted me. All I’d ever wanted was a home—a place to belong, to be loved. I thought I’d found that here.
I’d been so wrong.
My mother had promised to stay so I didn’t end up in this exact position. Nash had promised to protect me. Jeddi had promised to see me cared for.
No one had kept their promise.
Nash should be here.
But Nash had chosen Lindsay. I’d heard his message loud and clear: he didn’t want me.
That was the lesson I had to accept. My head swam and my vision blurred a moment. My lip quivered.
Mrs. Ombly wrung her hands as she stepped forward. “Why don’t you give Nash a call—”
“We broke up,” I said, my voice hard.
For a moment everything was silent. Time stood still, and I felt nothing but emptiness. Maybe…maybe this time moving was smart. I’d start over. Away from Nash. Fuck him if he didn’t want me.
“You can get me into a good university in England?” I asked.
My father’s smile widened, cutting his pudgy face into two spheres, both lumpy with craters and grooves, much like images of the moon. “With the right sum, one can get most anything, my dear.”
I frowned, not liking his attitude. “Okay,” I said, settling back on the sofa.
Mrs. Ombly made a sound of distress. “Aya—”
I shook my head. “It’s better this way.” My voice cracked. “There’s nothing left for me here. Not now.”
30
Nash
It wasn’t until Hugh stopped by my hospital room the next afternoon, worry lining his features, that I realized how bad the situation was with Aya.
“She’s gone, man,” he said as he dropped into the chair next to my bed.
Sweet Oblivion Page 16
