His little hand pressed against my forehead, worry wrinkling his brow. “You’re running a fever.”
He was right, but I didn’t want to make him worry about me. I was the adult, not him. He was too young to have to stress over someone’s health.
“How about this?” I started, and he crossed his arms over his chest and gave me a look that was so much like Sawyer that my heart gave another painful flip-flop. “You get changed in your room, and I’ll turn on your favorite show. I’ll take a shower”—he started to protest, but I lifted a hand to stop him—“and then you can help me finish up all the work I’m supposed to turn into my editor by tomorrow.”
A harsh sigh left his lips, but he nodded. “Okay,” he muttered. “I guess that sounds like a good plan.”
A smile teased at my lips. “Good.” I straightened and was the one to do the pushing this time.
I had two bedrooms. When Jamie had been born and I had started babysitting him so much, I had turned my guest room into a nursery. The crib was gone now, replaced with a full-sized bed with black and red sheets and matching comforter. The room screamed Jamie’s personality from the toys that were practically spilling out of the toy chest in one corner to the pictures he had drawn and I had placed in picture frames around the entire room.
His art work wasn’t the only things that were in the frames. There were at least ten pictures I had taken in some of them. One of me holding him when he was born, and another more recent picture of the two of us at his fifth birthday party. There was one of him and his mom, and another of him with his dad, both of which sat on the bedside table so he could always have his parents watching over him. Every picture had a meaning for Jamie, and it made him feel like he was in his own home when he saw them. To him, he didn’t just have one home or even two now that his parents were divorced and lived in separate houses. He had three, knowing that I would always be there for him.
I left him in his room while he changed his clothes and washed up. Going into the living room, I readied his favorite show on Netflix before going into my spacious kitchen to make him a snack.
I started sneezing before I had even gotten the fridge open. It felt like my head was going to explode with each one that seemed to be forced from my nose.
Dammit. If I kept this up, Sawyer was going to gloat about being right.
Reaching for a paper towel over the sink, I blew my nose then washed my hands before quickly putting Jamie’s snack together. The juice box and grapes were already waiting on him by the time he walked into the living room.
Knowing he could take it from there, I went to my room and pulled off Sawyer’s coat. It was wet from my clothes. I would have to have it cleaned before I gave it back to him.
Shaking my head at the coat, I tossed it in the corner of the room and started stripping. As I walked into my bathroom, I decided to take Jamie’s advice after all and take a bath. Throwing my wet clothes in my hamper, I started running the water, adding a little of my favorite bath salts and bubble bath. Steam filled the bathroom, helping me unthaw a little.
Grabbing my robe, I went to make sure Jamie was okay. He was already lost in his show and didn’t even lift his head when I asked if he needed anything.
“I’m good,” he assured me, without taking his eyes off the screen.
Grinning, I headed back to my room. Making sure my phone was in reach, I stepped into the bathtub and moaned as the heat from the water soaked away the chill that had taken my body hostage. As I sat back, sinking farther into the fragrant water and bubbles, all the energy seemed to soak away as well. I leaned my head back against my bath pillow.
My throat felt like I had swallowed glass, and I suspected I had strep. Awesome. Just what I needed. I only hoped Jamie wouldn’t get it.
I stayed in the bath until the water began to cool, then forced myself to get out. I had no energy, but I still had work to do.
Drying off, I put my robe back on then rinsed my mouth out with Listerine, hoping that would fight off the damn strep until I could get some antibiotics. Doctors and I had never gotten along, and after the incident that had left me covered in scars, I hated them with a passion. Well, all but one.
Dominic Balor was my brother’s second best friend, and after everything that had happened six years ago, he was my lifeline. He knew everything that had happened before, during, and after my “accident.” Which meant he knew more than any other person in the world. Not even Amber or my brother knew all the details. I prayed they never did.
Once I had gargled the evil mouthwash, I grabbed my laptop and the stack of work I still needed to get through, along with my phone.
Jamie was still in the same spot where I had left him, his eyes still glued to the television, but his drink and dish of grapes were both empty. As I sat down, the ending credits started to roll for the episode he was watching, and I reached for the remote to turn it off.
If it were up to me, I would let him watch it for a few hours, but Amber would have my head. Jamie was the kind of kid who had an addictive personality. If you give him one of something, he would take a hundred if you let him. Of course, that was something he had gotten from his father. Yet another thing that I found endearing in my godson.
With the television off, he went to toss his trash, something Amber and I had both ingrained in him. Except for the moment with the oh so lovely Miss Prescott, Jamie normally had exceptional manners. Maybe it was because he was an only child. Regardless, I had never seen a child so well-behaved as him.
“What can I do?” Jamie asked as he sat beside me on the couch.
I grinned and handed him a stack of papers. They were my notes for the article I was writing for my editor. “These are all numbered, but they’re out of order. Will you fix them for me?”
I had messed them up on purpose, just to give him something to do. It made him feel important to help me out with work.
He took the papers with a somber look on his all too handsome face, as if it was a task that would require his full attention and the fate of the world depended on him getting it right.
With him busy sorting the notes, I checked to make sure the pictures I had taken for the article were uploaded and ready to go. It had been an easy assignment, covering the art festival that had taken over SoHo over the weekend. It was more about the pictures I had taken rather than the article itself that mattered to my boss. That was why she had given it to me. My skills with a camera were ten times better than my talent with the written word.
I enjoyed my job, but honestly, it was a boring gig. This was not what I had imagined when I had made the choice to go into journalism. I had thought I would be covering stories in war-torn countries, corresponding international news across the globe.
A shiver that had nothing to do with my fever went up my spine. Once upon a time, those were the things I had excelled at. I had been a well-respected, top correspondent for one of the leading political magazines in the country. I had worked my ass off to get their internship my junior year of college, and by the time I had graduated, I’d had a promised position that took me everywhere I had ever dreamed.
There were moments in everyone’s lives where they had to wake up and realize what was important to them. Really, truly important. Did they want to follow their career aspirations, start a family, or whatever else that was the ultimate goal for them in life? I’d had two, and I had lost them both in a single flash.
My fingers started to tremble at thinking about how I had lost it all. Without realizing it, I traced one shaky digit over the scar on my neck.
Jamie’s eyes seemed to follow the direction of my hand, and it was only when I saw the way his eyes widened that I realized what I was doing.
Dropping my hands back onto the laptop, I gave him a shaky smile. “How’s it going, bud?”
He turned his attention back to the papers in front of him. “I think I got it, Aunt Ash.”
“Thanks, Jamie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” And I didn’t. It
was this precious boy who had brought me back to life when all I had wanted to do was curl into a ball and die.
He gave me a cocky half-grin as he finished putting the papers in order for me. “I know.”
Laughing, I focused on the email I needed to compose for my boss before I started on the article. My job might be boring at times, but it allowed me to work from home so I could have my afternoons free for Jamie. Once he started school the following year, I would still get to see him most afternoons. Amber worked almost as much as Sawyer, and I was happy to pick up the slack for them where Jamie was concerned.
While I worked, Jamie went to his room and brought back a coloring book and crayons, along with two of his favorite action figures. He sat them on my coffee table so they could oversee his work, chatting with them every so often as he colored me a picture. Art was definitely not a talent he had gotten from either of his parents. It was something that I had made him fall in love with from the first time he had picked up his first crayon.
Two hours passed before I was done, by which time my head pounded as I leaned back against the couch. I had to fight to keep my eyes open as I hit send on the email to my boss, and then let out a relieved breath when I shut my laptop.
Jamie lifted his head as I shifted the papers I had scattered around me, cleaning up my mess through eyelids that refused to stay open.
“You look sleepy, Aunt Ash.” There was concern in his voice. I knew he was just as tired as I was. A nap sounded like heaven right then.
I fought back a yawn, knowing that it would only make my throat hurt more if I let it free. “I am a little,” I told him as I stacked the papers together and set them on top of my computer before neatly placing them all on my end table. Taking the throw off the back of the couch, I shifted until I was lying down, my head resting on one of my many colorful pillows and covered myself. “Come here, bud. I could really use a cuddle.”
He jumped up without so much as a huff in annoyance, a happy smile on his face as he laid down beside me. His head was cushioned on my chest, and I made sure that I didn’t breathe on him as I cuddled him close and covered him with the soft fleece throw. I could predict down to the second when his eyes would close, and then his breathing evened out. He was fast asleep safe in the knowledge that I would protect him.
Smiling, I settled in for the long haul. The lights were still on, but I couldn’t be bothered to turn them off. With Jamie’s warmth and weight offering me the only comfort I wanted, sleep pulled me down quickly.
The dreams always came when I was overtired or sick. Hell, they came whenever I saw Sawyer. There was no escaping them. No way to hide except to avoid sleep. The few times I had done that, the dreams had been ten times more intense when I finally dropped into an exhausted sleep.
My dreams were always the same, no matter what I did, no matter how I tried to change the outcome. They were mostly brief flashes of the past, just enough to tear my heart apart and my subconscious to come out and play with the things I knew I should have done differently.
And the dreams—the memories—devoured me.
FOUR
Sawyer
I COULDN’T MAKE MYSELF CONCENTRATE on work for long. By the time four o’clock came around, I was itching to get out of the office. Unable to fight the urge to get to Ash’s place, I finally grabbed my keys, not bothering with the briefcase I normally would have stuffed full of work to go over when I got home.
Making sure I had my phone, I headed out, stopping only long enough to tell Janice I was leaving.
Both women’s heads snapped up when I told my secretary what I was doing. Janice stood, her growing belly catching my attention as she put her hands on her hips and glared at me.
“Seriously, what is wrong with you? Are you dying? You never leave the office before eight.”
“I have something important waiting on me,” I told her with a shrug, then turned to leave.
“You’re coming back the day after tomorrow, right?” she demanded as she followed after me. “I only cleared tomorrow for you.”
I paused at the reception desk. “I don’t know. I’ll let you know. I might take the rest of the week off.” I didn’t want to waste a single minute. Two weeks wasn’t nearly long enough to accomplish getting Ash to give me a second chance. Nevertheless, I knew once Amber got back, Ash would shut me out again.
Janice grasped my wrist, forcing me to look at her. “Is this some ploy to make me stay?” she demanded. “Are you trying to guilt me into coming back after the baby is born?”
“Of course not. This has nothing to do with you.” I was getting tired of her jumping to the conclusion that something was seriously wrong with me.
In the last six years, I had only had two out of the three things I loved and needed: work and Jamie. I was done being without Ash. Work could go to hell for all I cared right then. Ash was just as important to me as Jamie, and it was time I showed her how much I needed her.
Janice’s eyes narrowed on me for a long moment before her face cleared and she actually grinned at me. “Whoever this woman is, she must be pretty special if she has you taking time off work.” She released my wrist and stepped back. “Okay, then. Just let me know how long you’re going to be out so I can work some magic on your schedule.”
My secretary headed back to her office, and I turned to face Leah, who was busy at her computer, pretending like she hadn’t overheard Janice.
“Transfer any important calls to my cell,” I told her. “But, unless it’s life or death, it’s not important enough to me.”
Her lips twitched, but she was too much of a professional to actually laugh at me. “Sure thing. Enjoy your evening.”
The drive to Ash’s apartment took nearly half an hour. My legs twitched with restlessness the entire ride. I knew that it wasn’t going to be easy to get Ash back. She wasn’t likely to make it as easy for me to win her heart this time around. I had fucked up bad. Deep down, I realized that in the end, I might not come out the other side with her beside me.
No.
I couldn’t live with that. I would get her back.
I had to.
The cab driver had barely pulled to a stop outside of Ash’s building when I tossed him some cash and jumped out. This wasn’t the same place she had lived when we were together six years ago. I hadn’t been here often, and only to pick Jamie up on a few occasions. However, I knew this place had better security, and that she now had a two-bedroom rather than the smaller one-bedroom apartment she’d had back then.
As I approached the entrance, the doorman tipped his head in greeting to me. I might not come here often, but they knew who I was. The guy didn’t even question me as he opened the door for me.
I headed straight for the elevators and hit the call button. When one arrived, two women stepped off, and I stepped back to let them pass, feeling their eyes on me. I didn’t give them a second glance as I entered the elevator and hit the button for the twenty-second floor.
The closer I got to her apartment, the harder my heart beat. My hands started to shake as I lifted one to ring the doorbell.
It was several long moments later before I heard movement on the other side of the door.
“Who is it?” Jamie called out.
“Jamie? It’s Dad.”
I heard the locks being undone, and then the door was open, with my son standing on the other side. “Dad!” He grabbed my hand and tugged me inside. “Something’s wrong with Aunt Ash.”
Closing the door behind me, I glanced around the living room. There was a rumpled throw on the couch. Ash’s laptop and a bunch of scribbled on papers were stacked on the end table.
Jamie pulled on my hand harder, leading me through the living room and toward the bedrooms. I could hear her before we even got to her room.
“Jamie, go to your room,” I told him as I pulled off my suit jacket. “Your aunt won’t want you to see her like she is right now.”
“But—”
“Go, Jamie,” I or
dered, my tone leaving no room for argument.
I pushed open the bedroom door and closed it behind me just as I heard Ash throw up again. I didn’t waste time glancing around her bedroom as I hurried into the bathroom.
I found her on the floor, holding the sides of the toilet as she wretched and heaved. I grabbed a washcloth out of the little closet beside the shower and hurriedly dampened it before crouching down beside of her.
When I touched her arm, she jerked and lifted her eyes. They were glazed with pain and fatigue, her brow covered in sweat, and she looked pale as death.
Shaking my head at her, I wiped the washcloth over her brow, unable to ignore the fact that she was running a scalding fever. She moaned at the coolness against her skin.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” I asked in a quiet, soothing tone. “What hurts?”
She leaned closer to my touch, wanting more of the coolness from the washcloth. “I think I have strep.” Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
I wanted to scold her for being out without her coat in the rain earlier, but Jamie had had strep so many times that I knew getting wet earlier hadn’t given it to her. It was going around, and when I had picked Jamie up after lunch from daycare, the staff had told me that five kids were out with it that day.
Grimacing, I wiped her brow again, then started cleaning her up. That she didn’t protest only told me how sick she really was. She was normally too independent to want help with anything.
Helping her stand, I opened the bottle of mouthwash so she could get rid of the taste of vomit. Her entire body seemed to tremble from the effort to keep standing, the fever consuming every ounce of energy she still had.
Her knees started to buckle, but I lifted her into my arms. Her slight weight felt like nothing in my arms as I carried her into the bedroom and laid her on top of the covers. I pulled them back, then tucked her in before going back to the bathroom and cleaning it up.