Page 128 of Doesn't Count

She nods. “We don’t normally allow this, but the patient in room 115 is demanding to see you. Refuses treatment until that happens.”

“Uh, okay. Is he okay? Is everything alright?”

With a soft hand, she helps me from the bed and even though I’m sore, I’d much rather not be touched at the moment.

“I’ll be honest, he isn’t in the best shape. If you don’t think you can handle it, please by all means, you can refuse.”

I shake my head, “No, no. I’m good. Please, I need to see him.”

She assesses me one last time with a concerned gaze before nodding.

As she leads the way to Oliver’s room, a barrage of violent shouts fills the hallway. The sound of his scream penetrates my being so deeply, my body reacts on instinct. Barreling into the room, I find Oliver cornered, demanding the three male nurses to back off.

“Oh my God!” I cry, nearly tripping over my own two feet to get to him.

A desperate groan of relief puffs past his lips as he yanks me to him, his grip unbearably tight. I flinch and the nurses get even closer.

“Back the fuck up! Touch her and I swear to God, I will kill you!”

“Hey! It’s okay.” I whimper past the sob caught in my throat.

My fingers find his cheeks and I lightly bring his gaze to mine. His blazing eyes soften, the tension in his brows release. I can feel the muscles beneath his skin deflate as if I am all he needs to breathe again.

“Ash.”

There’s a tremor in his fingers as he brushesmy hair back from my face. With wounded lips, he plants a kiss on my forehead, his hold on me tightening.

“It’s going to be okay.” I tell him.

“I thought you were dead.” He sighed into my hair.

I shake my head, looking up into his face the color of the galaxy. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

“I can’t let them have you, Ash. They can’t take you away from me.” He murmurs.

“I’m not going anywhere, Oliver.”

His muscles tense beneath my hold and he winces from pain.

“Oliver is dead.” He reminds me through gritted teeth. “He’s dead, Ash. I’m all that’s left now. Can that be enough? Will you love me anyway?”

I nod, “Of course.”

Khaos’ amber eyes search my face, his fingertips grazing my skin, careful not to push too hard on the tender bruises. He’s still covered in specks of blood and dirt, his hair slick with grease. The only clean thing he dons is the blue hospital gown.

He drops his face, his wounded lips brushing against mine in a painful kiss. Neither of us acknowledge the nurses standing behind us, preparing for their next move. It causes an air of tension that is clearly putting Khaos on edge.

“I couldn’t save you. I tried, but I failed. All I could do was watch as you were dragged away, screaming for me. I wanted to save you. I-” His throat bobbed as his eyes shut.

“Don’t. Don’t do that. I’m alive and I'm okay.” The way his face twists in agony causes a whole new type of pain inside of me. “Are you? Tell me you’re going to be okay.”

One of the male nurses clears his throat to speak to me, “I need to take his vitals.”

I nod, untangling myself from Khaos’ hold, but his grip justtightens. It feels good to neither of us, our bodies aching from wounds beneath the skin, yet it doesn’t force him to let up.

“Khaos.” His gaze narrows on the nurse that spoke, my attempt at redirecting his attention unsuccessful. “Hey, look at me.”

He doesn’t.

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