Page 37 of Tear Me Down
Chapter fourteen
Ashia
Four Days Later
I've been back to work for almost two weeks now, and every day from the time I leave for work to the time Damien gets home, Zeke’s been with me. He even rides in my car with me, sitting in silence and looking at his phone or out the window, and even as he sits in the waiting room at Cut Me Down, he doesn’t say a thing. We practically pretend the other doesn’t exist, and at first I was okay with it because of his bullshit comment, but now it’s kind of annoying. I bet he’s bored as hell. He occasionally talks to Emmett and the guys, definitely more than he talks to me, but whatever. I'm just going with it until Damien decides I don’t need a security detail. Which will probably never happen.
He almost pulled Zeke as my guard and replaced him with someone else, but that didn’t happen either. It was nothing Zeke did, but there's been an alarming rise in overdoses in the past week. Ser said it must be one of Dust’s new drugs, and they don’t even have a test for it yet. She said from the symptoms and how quick the reactions are, that it seems medical grade. This of course has Damien even more on edge, which urged him to up patrols on the streets. He’s been focusing on the smaller dealers this past week, hoping to catch someone selling it so he can have it analyzed, but hasn’t had any luck. He seems so stressed when he gets home that sometimes I'm surprised he hasn’t had a heart attack yet.
My continued recovery was going well, at least until today. I haven’t really gotten sick at work, definitely felt nauseous a couple of times, but nothing like today. I'm not sure I can hold it in, and I’ve only been here a couple of hours. Lately, I've been getting sick later in the evenings, and up until today that was really the only time. However, since the moment I woke up this morning, I’ve felt queasy.
I haven’t been hiding how I'm feeling from Damien, but if the nausea becomes too much, I attempt to hold it back until I’m no longer around him. He’s still so worried, even though it’s gotten better, but when he sees me feeling so bad, it’s worse for him. The sadness and regret in his eyes only continues to grow, and I hate it. Nothing I do or say to him seems to help him anymore, and I can feel the weight from all of this pushing down on him. I don’t know what to do.
Zeke is supposed to call him if I vomit, which I'm trying to avoid at all costs, because what would that do to him? How does notifying him how I’m feeling help him? It doesn’t, and until this goes away, I need to protect him just as much as he protects me. I told him I wasn’t feeling the best this morning, I wouldn’t lie to him, but I definitely played it down.Zeke had to take a call right before we opened, and I managed to throw up without him seeing. Now? Definitely can’t hide it from him.
Tony is currently in my chair, and we’ve been talking about everything that’s happened since a few weeks ago. Well, he’s been talking. I’ve mostly been keeping my mouth shut and trying to breathe through my nose. He talked about how the Federal Internal Affairs Authorities came into the station and immediately fired the chief of police—charging him with corruption, bribery, and obstruction of justice. Apparently that’s just the beginning, and it actually feels nice to know that something is being done about it. It feels even better knowing that Damien is the reason it’s being done.
Once again, he’s proving to be the white knight the city sees him as. By him taking such a huge risk, it has paid off for everyone in town. That one alert, framing the city’s police department for hacking into Interpol, put everything else into motion. There’s always a chance that it could be overrun and corrupt after the transition, but now that the department is on the Federal Government’s radar, it will be much harder for them to let anything slip through. The environment of downtown already feels safer, and it’s been the talk of the town for the past few days.
Client after client has come in talking about it, and I can’t help but permeate with pride as they speak. Even though I can’t walk around screaming ‘my fiancé did that’, I smile as the patrons express their awe. Most of the citizens have no idea what’s going on beneath the surface, and to hear of DH in such a warm light from so many people really makes that risk seem worth the reward. Our city is one step closer to being free of Dust’s tyranny, and the people can see the light at the end of the tunnel.
The state, with the assistance of the FBI, has removed the mayor and put his replacement into office after going through an extensive investigation and interview process. DN, from the DH podcast, has blasted this news all over the place, making sure everyone in the city knows of the corruption. That, of course, led to Tony talking about the officers he thinks are corrupt, and about how the federal agency wants to talk to him about possibly moving up to be the chief. I’m very happy for him, but I make a mental note to text him later and congratulate him properly. You know, after I don’t feel like a seasick mess.
He’s rambling again, thank God, and before I know it, I'm done with his cut. Prior to him walking out, he says he’ll check on me later like he always does, and even though I almost threw up on him, I’ve never been so thankful to have him as a friend. Just knowing that he’s truly a good person means everything, and I hope that part of him never changes.
I take the almost empty waiting room as a gift and walk to the bathroom, barely getting the door closed before I fling my head over the toilet and retch, emptying my stomach into the porcelain bowl before willing myself to stop, because this isnotan option today. We have the DH party tonight, and this is another chance for Damien to create a good relationship with the mercs. I can’t mess that up again.
Once I finally stop heaving, I sit back against the wall and take a few deep breaths, trying to keep my body calmer than my mind. I am nervous aboutthis party, but not enough to cause this. I did try to eat a bagel this morning, instead of just my smoothie and some solid fruit, so that’s probably where I messed up. Note to self: bread is a no-go for now, try again in a few days.
After a few minutes, I can tell my stomach has settled ever so slightly, and I stand to brush myself off—taking a moment to run water over my face and clean the bathroom before I walk out. When I step out, Zeke’s tall figure makes me jump, as if he was waiting outside for me this entire time, instantly aggravating me.
“Jesus, Zeke, couldn’t give me a little warning?”
“Take your temperature,” he demands and holds a thermometer out to me, still wrapped in the packaging.
“Have you had that on you this whole time?” I thrust my hand in his direction, gesturing to it.
“Yes, if I call Damien without a number he’s going to think I'm a dumbass.”
“You are not calling Damien, and I can tell I'm not running a fever. It’s been three weeks, I'm sure it’s safe to say that we’re past the fever point.”
“D said to call if you get sick, so yes, I'm calling him, and I’d rather you cooperate,” he says a little louder, and I point back to the equipment room gesturing for Zeke to follow me back so we can have a little more privacy—I don’t need Emmett or any of the other clients hearing him scold me like a child. Shockingly, he complies and steps behind me into the room.
“Zeke, come on. You don’t need to call him. Please? He’s going to be upset.”
“Regardless, I have my orders, Ash.”
“Well, fuck your orders,” I retort, and he crosses his arms and tilts his head, like he’s shocked I had the audacity to say that.Yep, I did.“Zeke, I know you and Damien are close. So, you know how stressed he is and how important today needs to be for him. Please, I will tell him when we get home.”
His face softens at my request, and he untangles his arms, looking away and simply shaking his head. That feeling of recognition resurfaces, like the first time I met him, but I throw the notion away, deciding now isn’t the time to evaluate my issues.
“He’s going to be even more stressed if you don’t tell him.”
“Hey, I promised him I wouldn’t hide things from him, and I won’t. That doesn’t mean his whole day needs to be put on hold because I got sick. I'm not a kid that needs to be picked up from school.”
He holds the thermometer out to me again and nudges it in my direction. I can’t help but roll my eyes.
“Can you at least take your fucking temperature? That way I know that I don’t have to worry about you passing out or something?” I huff and take the thermometer out of his hand, snatching it up and unpacking it before rinsing itoff and sticking it in my mouth. I eye him angrily the whole time, getting pretty fed up with his presence.
