Chapter 105: Asher
She hasn’t moved in hours.
I watch her chest rise and fall in a slow, steady rhythm that I still don’t trust. Every time her breath bitches, every time the motor disse eget a little off–rhythm, my heart stumbles, I tell myself the machines know better. That they’re programmed to track every heartbeat, every put, my dog f fluid being pumped through her veins.
But machines don’t know her.
So I check for myself.
Every thirty minutes or so, I press my fingers gently to her wrist. Thumb brushing over the soft skin, finding that pole point pot beneath the surfare. it’s always there. Steady. Strong. But still I check. Just to be sure,
She hasn’t woken up since she drifted off last night. Since she let me touch her. Since she turned her face into my chest and exhaled like she was leiding g of the whole world.
I’ve fallen asleep a few times too. Dozed off sitting up, one hand still laced through hers, my body crammed onto this shitty excuse for a hospital bed
But I didn’t care.
I slept better in that chair, with her skin against mine, than I’ve slept in a week.
Not since the night after the party.
Not since the night I dreamed she was mine and woke up with my fists clenched, my jaw aching, my sheets damp with sweat.
Now she’s here.
Still. Silent. But here.
At some point, a nurse came in. She startled a little when she saw me
–
all six–foot–two of me slouched in the visitor’s chair, holding the patient’s hand like
I was afraid she’d vanish. She didn’t say anything. Just looked for a moment, then slipped out and returned with a blanket.
I nodded my thanks.
I tucked it around Penny’s shoulders.
Ten minutes later, the nurse came back with a second one. Shook her head at me with a smile and dropped it onto my lap like she knew I wouldn’t ask.
Now the room is quiet again. Early morning light bleeds in through the edges of the curtain, soft and silver. Her hair catches it where it spills across the pillow.
She’ll be discharged today.
She’ll go home.
And I’ll go… where? Back to my parents‘ place? Back to pretending that this–us–was just temporary? Just some unspoken fantasy that lives in the space between silence and sleep?
I shift on the edge of the bed. Not close enough to crowd her. Just close enough to see.
Her lips are slightly parted.
Pink. Full. Still chapped at the edges from yesterday’s fall.
She bit them once during a movie. I remember. She was trying not to cry. Tyler didn’t notice.
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Chapter 105: Asher
She bites them when she’s nervous. She used to chew on them when she talked to me, like her mouth didn’t know what to do with and we wa around.
I’ve been watching her lips for weeks.
Wanting to touch them.
Needing to.
I reach out now, slow and reverent, and brush my thumb along her bottom lip again. She doesn’t stir. Just breathes.
This is the second time I’ve ever touched them.
The first was last night.
And now I think it might kill me not to do it again.
I drag my thumb softly across that curve. Just once. Just enough to feel her warmth beneath the skin.
Then I pull back.
Because this is all I get.
And I’ll be damned if I ruin it by taking too much.
My phone vibrates on the windowsill.
I curse under my breath and reach for it fast before it wakes her.
Screen lights up: Tyler.
My stomach turns.
Tyler (7:42 AM): how is she
I stare at the message.
He’s not here. Didn’t come. Didn’t ask to. Just this flat little question that feels like a bullet grazing the edge of my ribs.
I should feel guilty for everything I’ve felt for Penny. I used to.
But now?
Now I just feel protective.
Because I’ve watched their relationship for weeks. I’ve seen what they are. What they’re not. Convenient. Comfortable. Familiar. But not love. Not the kind that claws at your ribs and makes your hands shake when she hurts.
Me (7:45 AM): if you were here, you’d know
I see the “typing” bubble pop up almost immediately.
Tyler (7:45 AM): dude. i was told not to come. she was asleep all night. why are you being like this
Me (7:46 AM): you weren’t told not to come. you didn’t want to
Tyler (7:46 AM): that’s not true
Me (7:46 AM): then where were you
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Chapter 105: Asher
No response for a minute.
Tyler (7:48 AM): I was at Mom and Dad’s. I couldn’t. You know I saw it happen. I watched her hit the floor. It fucked me up.
Me (7:48 AM): it fucked you up?
Me (7:48 AM): SHE’S the one with a fucking concussion, Ty. Not you.
Tyler (7:49 AM): Jesus. What do you want me to say?
I stare at the screen.
My jaw clenches.
This is what I’ve been holding back. The question I haven’t dared ask out loud. But now… it slips out before I can stop it.
Me (7:49 AM): I’ll ask you once. Just once. Whose phone rang in the studio.
No typing bubble.
Nothing.
Then-
Tyler (7:52 AM): what are you insinuating
Me (7:52 AM): just answer the question
Tyler (7:53 AM): it wasn’t my phone
I don’t breathe.
I wait.
Me (7:54 AM): but?
Tyler (7:55 AM): but nothing, it wasn’t mine. that’s it.
Silence again.
I watch the screen. Waiting. Daring him to say more.
He doesn’t.
So I stop pushing.
Because this is his narrative.
And if he’s sticking to it–if he’s lying to me, to himself, to her–then that’s on him.
Me (7:57 AM): she’s fine. she’ll be discharged later today.
Tyler (7:57 AM): thanks
I don’t reply.
I just toss the phone back onto the windowsill and stare at it like it’s still talking.
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Chapter 105: Asher
Then I look at her again.
Still asleep.
Still curled toward me, like some unconscious part of her knows I’m here and doesn’t want me gone.
My hand finds hers again. I brush my thumb over her knuckles.
Call my name again, I think. Please.
Because if there’s even a small part of her that wants me–really wants me-
then God help me.
I’ll burn the whole damn world to be hers.
