Page 108 of Desiring an Angel

“We’re running some tests, but—”

Ash’s eyelids fluttered, and I hopped up, rushing to crowd his bed, ignoring whatever else the doctor had to say.

“Hey, baby.” I tried to keep my voice light while gently threading our hands together and cupping his cheek.

“Rhett.” He worked moisture to his lips and forced his eyelids open with slow blinks.

“We had to give him something to calm him down,” the doctor explained. “He was pretty upset about his symptoms and wanting you here.”

Ash finally gazed up at me, taking a bit to focus on me.

I forced a wobbly smile, my damn eyes stinging again.

A shuddering sigh shivered through him, a slow smile curling his lips. “Am I dead?” The words slurred from his mouth like he was drunk off his ass.

“Far from it,” I stated firmly, fighting the tears that yearned to drip down my face.

“Oh good.” He closed his eyes again, his smile widening. “I don’t want you to be alone when I’m gone. Love her. She’s what you need Rhett. You just have to lower your defenses. Needed...to let you know that first.”

“You aren’t going to die,” I bit the words out, sure the swell of emotions inside me was about to burst through the iron dam I’d kept it behind for too fucking long.

“Okay,” he murmured, his eyes closing.

“I’m sorry I’ve been an absolute ass the past couple of weeks.” I spilled the words, needing them off my fucking chest before he passed out again. “There’s no excuse for my behavior, and I’m going to fix things. I promise.”

“Forgive you…” He went silent, lips parting again.

“Ash?”

“Love you, Rhett,” he slurred as though half-asleep. “Stoic man…my rock. No one…will ever change that.” He let out a sigh and went silent as my chest squeezed tight.

“Ash?” I whispered again, but he didn’t stir. “What’s going on—the tests being run, the plan moving forward,” I demanded of the doctor, not taking my focus off Ash’s slack face.

There was some swelling where he’d hit his head, the doctor told me, but other than a concussion, he would be fine. It had been his ranting about symptoms and dying of cancer that had them running some bloodwork and putting through orders for scans. He assured me he’d get in touch with our PCP immediately and left us alone.

Ash had withheld information from me, no different than my keeping my feelings from him—we’d both been in the wrong, and shit needed to change.

I ached over the fact he’d been dealing with that fear alone. It fucking killed me he hadn’t allowed me to be his rock like he’d claimed I was, that he hadn’t leaned on me for doctor visits and diagnosis—if he’d even gone, which I highly doubted.

His obsession, his desperation to get Skylar pregnant suddenly made sense as shit clicked together in my brain.

“Fuck,” I muttered, running my hand through my hair, my insides growing restless.

Without sure answers about his health, I floundered, too much swirling around inside me I couldn’t breathe…

I untangled my fingers from Ash’s limp ones and strode from his little cubicle, moving aimlessly down the hallway.

Attempting to put shit into perspective and lay groundwork for some sort of foundation to base the next step on, I paced back and forth. The inability to organize my thoughts left me with a sense of helplessness I didn’t know how to safely contain inside as I’d always done.

Couldn’t take control.

Couldn’t plan.

Couldn’t fucking deal.

My stomach churned with every stride and turn, like a bottle of soda being shaken, pressure building until every muscle in my body trembled, ready to explode.

A hushed whimper rose in my throat regardless of how it swelled shut.

---