Falling for my boyfriend’s Navy brother
Chapter 103: Penny
My eyes are closed.
They feel glued shut, like opening them might cost too much energy, or invite too much light. My head throbs in slow pulses, radiating just above my temple and curling around the back like a vice. The side of my body aches too–dull, like bruised fruit. Thigh, ribs, shoulder. Nothing sharp, nefhing broken… but I feel like I’ve been dropped out of the sky.
1 try to breathe evenly. Calmly.
You’re okay, I remind myself.
That’s what they said, right? My mom, the doctor. Someone.
You’ll still do the Spring Gala.
Don’t worry.
You just need two weeks off. No one will replace you.
I remember nodding. I remember trying to say thank you, but the words got lost somewhere between the nausea and the panic.
It’ll be okay.
But I’m still scared.
Not just of not dancing. But of the fall. Of what it meant. Of how easy it was–how one ring, one flinch, one second of distraction–and I was down.
God.
I was so scared.
A tear slips out and streaks across my temple. I keep my eyes shut, trying not to make a sound. I don’t want anyone to see me crying.
But then a hand–warm, wide, calloused–wipes it away.
I flinch, startled.
My eyes flutter open.
It’s still dark. Just the small light over the bed, casting long shadows on the walls. But in front of me, I see him.
His elbows are braced on the mattress, forearms taut, hands resting near mine. His shoulders–broad, massive, unmistakable-
e–are hunched slightly, his head dipped low. I can’t see his eyes. But I see the shape of his face. The slope of his nose. The slightly wavy black hair pushed back off his forehead.
There’s a long, pale cut across the side of his throat. Another on his forearm. A man who’s been through so, so many wars.
But he’s here.
My tears come faster. Quiet, but steady.
“…Asher?” I whisper.
His head lifts.
“Yeah, princess.” His voice is low, a little hoarse, like it’s been sitting in his chest all night.
I swallow hard. “Why are you here?”
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Chapter 103: Penny
He shifts, just slightly, his gaze still shadowed. “Where else would I be?”
My heart cracks a little.
I blink at him, trying to make the pieces of this moment come together. “Do you… do you know what happened?”
He nods once. “Yeah. They told me.”
I try to sit up, just a little, but pain spikes down my neck. I wince, and immediately his hand slides behind me–strong, steady, cupping the bark of my head like it’s something fragile.
“I got you,” he murmurs.
He helps me ease up slowly, then lowers his hand and leans away again, sinking into the chair beside my bed. My eyes have adjusted now, and-
God.
He looks even bigger than I remember. Broader. The dark fabric of his black t–shirt stretches over his chest and arms like it can barely contain him. The sleeves cling to his biceps, veins prominent. His cargo pants are black too, knees scuffed, pockets deep. His boots are planted wide apart on the floor.
He looks like a fallen angel. A dark one.
The kind you don’t expect to be kind to you.
But he is.
Always has been, really.
“How are you feeling?” he asks quietly.
“My head hurts,” I whisper.
He nods. “I figured.” Then, “You should go back to sleep.”
“I’m not tired.”
I’m not. I’m…
I’m broken open.
The tears come again, this time heavier. I can’t stop them.
“Hey…” he says softly. “Why are you crying?”
I sniff, my voice wobbling. “I don’t know. I just… I got scared. I thought I broke my neck or something. And now I feel… I feel bad.”
“Bad?”
I nod, even though it makes my head throb. “I’ve been so caught up in trying not to be in the way of your life. You and your… girlfriend, or whatever. I avoided you. And you were just starting to maybe not hate me anymore. Or like, maybe you were thinking about tolerating me. As a friend. Or not even a friend, but like–someone you don’t completely loathe-”
“Penny.”
His voice stops me. Gentle, but firm.
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
I blink at him. “Okay. Well. Maybe not girlfriend then. But still—”
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Chapter 103: Penny
“Princess.”
His voice is deeper now. Something in it slides down my spine like a wire pulled taut.
“I’m not seeing anyone.”
I stare at him.
The room tilts a little–not from the concussion, but from the quiet truth in his voice.
“But…” I whisper, “Rooster said…”
Asher shakes his head slowly. “Rooster talks too much.”
Silence blooms between us. Warm and terrifying.
“Do you…” I swallow. “Do you forgive me? For pushing you away?”
He sighs softly. Then shifts forward in the chair.
His hand rises.
He brushes a piece of hair from my cheek, curling it behind my ear. His fingertips graze my temple, barely touching the bruise. He winces at the sight of it, like he feels it.
And then I see his eyes.
Dark. So, so dark.
Storm–colored. Sea–wrecked. Devastating.
“Of course I forgive you,” he says quietly. “That’s probably the worst questioned you’ve ever asked.”
I don’t say anything after that.
I just watch him. Watch the way he looks at me like I’m made of something breakable. Like he’s seen everything inside me I’ve tried to hide, and still–he’s
here.
The hospital is quiet.
My pulse is loud in my ears.
And in that moment, I feel something dangerous unfolding between us.
Something irreversible.
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