Until Ashlyn

  “I’ll call soon,” she confirms, and I send them each a wave as I head out of the restaurant. Stopping at the edge of the sidewalk across the street from the office, I watch Dillon standing in the doorway with his hand up high, keeping the door open and his eyes on the patient he’s talking to. Smiling at the older woman, he nods, saying something to her before she walks off. Turning to go back inside, his eyes catch mine and he grins, letting the door close behind him, and he jogs across the street to me.

  “Hey.” I smile once he’s in front of me.

  “Did you have a good lunch?” he asks, wrapping his arm around my waist, dropping his mouth to mine and kissing me softly before I can answer.

  “Yes,” I breathe against his lips then turn my head when I hear July shouting.

  “Oh, my God! You guys are so cute,” she yells as she rushes toward us, out of the café, with Wes following close behind her, shaking his head. “Congratulations, Dillon.” She grins, giving him a hug and making me laugh.

  “Thanks,” Dillon mutters, hugging her back with one arm, since his free hand is still holding mine.

  “We should do a double date.” She smiles excitedly, looking between the two of us.

  “Ignore her. She’s crazy,” Wes mutters, taking July by the waist and pulling her back to his side, then sticking out his hand. “Congrats, man. Welcome to the land of crazy.” He smiles as July smacks his shoulder, and Dillon shakes his hand chuckling.

  Rolling my eyes, I see my cousin do the same. “I wish we had time to chat, but I need to get back to the clinic,” she grumbles, looking at her watch then me. “Call me soon, so we can set up girls’ night. Maybe we should have a bachelorette party for you, since you didn’t have one.” She smiles, and her eyes light with mischief.

  “Not happening,” Dillon and Wes say in unison, making us girls laugh.

  “We’ll see.” She grins then leans over, giving me a hug and speaking softly against my ear, “You guys look perfect together, and seriously, I’m so happy for you.” Tears sting my nose and I hug her tighter. I may not have any sisters, but who needs them when you have some of the best cousins in the world?

  “Love you,” I murmur, feeling her arms tighten before she steps back.

  “See you two around,” Wes says with a flick of his fingers as he takes July’s hand, leading her toward his bike that is parked a few feet away, near the curb.

  “You are not having a bachelorette party,” Dillon mutters, just loud enough for me to hear as he moves us toward the road.

  “We shall see.” I grin, stepping ahead of him, then hear him roar, “Nooo!” as his hand holding mine tugs me back roughly. The sudden impact of a car clipping my hip and thigh sends me spiraling to the concrete, where my head bounces, turning everything black.

  “You heard the doctor. She’s going to be fine. Calm down. You won’t do her any good if you’re a fucking wreck when she wakes up,” my dad’s gruff voice says off in the distance. My head feels like I got hit in the skull with a bat, and my eyes are too heavy to open. I feel myself start to panic as I try to fight against whatever the hell has dragged me under, but it seems impossible and eventually I give up, letting the darkness take over.

  “Baby, you have got to wake up and let me know you’re okay,” Dillon whispers against my ear, sounding worried, and I frown. Why wouldn’t I be okay? Then the pain in my head and side registers, and I remember getting hit by a car.

  “Dillon.” Without opening my eyes, I know I’m in the hospital by the smell of disinfectant.

  “Finally.” His warm hand rests against my cheek, and my body relaxes ever so slightly from his touch. “Open your eyes for me.” I try. I really try, but they are so heavy. “Please open your eyes,” he murmurs, resting his soft lips against my forehead. I fight against the weight, and my eyes slowly flutter open. It takes a second to focus, but when I do, I find his face looming above me and his worried eyes searching mine. “There you are.” His thumb slides down the bridge of my nose, causing my heavy eyelids to drift closed once again. “Look at me, gorgeous.” I blink back open and look up at his handsome face.

  “Fuck.” He bends, touching his mouth to mine. “I love you. Stay awake for me,” he demands, leaning back, picking up the remote attached to the bed, and pressing something on it before grabbing a pink cup with a straw in it and placing it against my mouth. “Slow,” he instructs as I drink down gulp after gulp of cool water.

  Releasing the straw, I shake my head then whisper, “I got hit by a car.” I watch his eyes close and his jaw clench.

  “Honey?” my mom calls softy, pulling my attention from Dillon. Turning my head, I watch her come toward me through the dimly lit room. “You scared me and your dad,” she scolds, stopping at the side of the bed. “We’ve been worried sick.” She bends over the rail and engulfs me in a hug that squeezes the oxygen out of my lungs, making me wince in pain.

  “Sorry,” I croak out.

  “Easy,” Dillon grumbles from my side.

  “Where’s Dad?” I breathe into her neck, and she looks over her shoulder then takes a step back.

  “Right here,” my dad says, sounding choked up, and I see he’s a mess. His eyes are red and his hair is in disarray. “I’ll always be right here.” He gets close, resting his hand against my cheek then his lips against my forehead before looking down at me.

  “I got hit by a car,” I repeat, and his eyes slide closed.

  “Let’s not talk about that right now,” Dillon cuts in, and I tilt my head to look at him, noticing his jaw ticking. Something I noticed the first time when I mentioned getting hit.

  “How are you feeling?” Mom asks, resting her hand over mine, and I turn my head back toward her, wincing from the movement.

  I feel like I’ve been hit by a car, I think but don’t say, since that statement seems to make Dillon mad every time I do. “My head hurts a little,” I lie. My head is pounding actually, and my hip is killing me.

  “You hit your head pretty hard. You had to get eight stitches,” Dad explains, and I lift my hand toward my head, only to have Dillon grab my wrist, stopping me before I can feel for them.

  “Ashlyn,” Dr. Woods says, coming into the room, and I wonder what she’s thinking since she’s the doctor who stitched up my foot weeks ago after Dillon and Jax got into it. “I’m so glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?” she asks, looking at me then dropping her eyes to the computer pad in her hand, typing something in while walking toward the bed I’m lying in.

  “How long was I out for?” I frown, and she pulls her eyes from the computer to meet my gaze.

  “Just about an hour.”

  “An hour?” I breathe, feeling Dillon’s hand squeeze mine. I knew I was out of it, but being unconscious for an hour is bad… really bad.

  “You’re okay,” she says gently, getting closer, forcing my mom and dad to move away. “But you have suffered a small acute subdural hematoma that we need to keep an eye on.” At her words, my hand holding Dillon’s tightens in distress. “Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?” she continues, not knowing my insides are seizing up with worry.

  “Sure,” I whisper, and she smiles softly then looks at a man I didn’t notice before.

  “This is Dr. Desmond,” she introduces, and he smiles gently, taking the pad from her as she hands it over. “He’s going to be asking you some questions while I check your wound and vitals.”

  “Okay.” I try to relax while Dr. Desmond asks me questions about current events and the people in the room, and Dr. Woods checks my injuries and then my pulse.

  “You are going to be okay,” Dr. Woods assures, slipping off a pair of latex gloves and tossing them in a trash bin near the bed a few minutes later. “I’m going to release you to go home.” She smiles as Dr. Desmond says a quiet goodbye and leaves the room.

  “Are you sure it’s safe for her to go home?” Dillon asks, cutting her off, and the doctor looks at him.

  “I’m sure, but if she becomes nauseous,
dizzy, or if her headache continues for more than a few hours, she will need to come back and have a CT scan done.”

  “Maybe she should stay, just to be safe,” he suggests, giving my hand a squeeze.

  “Dillon,” I sigh. I know he’s worried, but there is no way in hell I want to stay at the hospital if I don’t have to.

  “I think Dillon’s right. I think you should stay,” my dad mutters, and I huff, closing my eyes.

  “There is really no reason for her to stay. She’s not suffered any memory loss and her vitals are all perfectly normal. If I thought for one moment it would be better for her to stay, I would insist she do so,” Dr. Woods conveys softly, looking between the two overbearing men in my life.

  “I want to go home. I want to sleep in my own bed,” I say, and Dillon looks down at me. I can tell he’s not happy; I can see he’s torn between giving me what I want, and having his way and keeping me here until he feels sure I’m okay.

  “Someone will need to wake you every four hours tonight. No driving for a few days, and no drinking either.”

  “We’ll take her home with us and make sure to wake her,” Dad interjects, and Dillon’s jaw tightens, along with his hand still holding mine.

  “Over my dead body,” he grits out through his teeth, glaring at my dad across the bed from him.

  “I can make that happen,” Dad growls back, and I feel tears fill my eyes. Apparently, not even getting hit by a car can make this mess better.

  “Stop it now, you two. Look at what you’re doing,” Mom hisses, pointing at me, and both my dad and Dillon’s eyes drop to me in the bed and soften. “Both of you follow me, now,” she barks, stomping toward the door. Shaking his head, my dad leans over, kissing my cheek before following behind her.

  “I’ll be right back.” Dillon sighs, bending to kiss my forehead as the tears spill over and fall down my cheeks. “Please stop crying. Everything is okay.”

  “Okay,” I agree, trying to fight the tears back.

  “Good girl, I’ll be right outside the door.”

  He kisses me softly then follows my parents out of the room, where I hear my mom shout, “Cash Mayson, if someone ever tried to take me from you when I was injured, you would loose your ever-loving mind, so cut Dillon some slack! And Dillon, Ashlyn is Cash’s daughter. He, of course, is worried about his little girl, so take that into consideration and stop being a dick.”

  God, I love my mom.

  “You’re a lucky girl to have so many people who love you,” Dr. Woods says, making me jump. I completely forgot she was still here.

  “You would think so, except the people I love hate each other,” I mumble, feeling a fresh wave of tears fill my eyes. I hate that my Dad and Dillon are not getting along, and I hate that I’m the cause of the rift between them. They weren’t best friends before, but they at least liked each other.

  “We don’t hate each other,” my dad’s voice cuts in, and my heart stops. “We love you and are worried about you.” Wiping my cheeks with my palms, I hear Dr. Woods whisper that she’ll be back with my discharge papers, feeling her squeeze my shoulder before leaving. “I was being hardheaded.” Dad gets close, taking my hand. “I didn’t want to believe my baby was grown up enough to get married. I should have talked to you days ago, but I didn’t know what to say.”

  “Dad,” I whimper, and his hand comes to rest against my cheek.

  “I love you. You’re my little girl. You will always be my little girl, but I also know you’re a smart woman who has never made a bad decision.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just didn’t know how. I knew you would be disappointed in me,” I confess as more tears slide down my cheeks.

  “You could never disappoint me.” Sobbing, I lean up, wrapping my arms around him, not caring that it hurts like hell to do so. “Come on, stop crying before your husband really has a conniption,” he says, sounding like he’s smiling. I shake my head as he pulls away enough to look down at me. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” I implore, then look at my mom, who is crying with her hand covering her mouth.

  Rushing toward us, she wraps me in a careful hug. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” I breathe, blinking back the wet in my eyes when I find Dillon’s eyes studying each tear. Clearing my throat, I wipe my face and lay back in bed.

  “Was the person who hit me okay?” I ask, and my dad steps back, tucking one hand into the front pocket of his jeans, while wrapping his other arm around my mom, tucking her close to his chest.

  “We don’t know who it was,” Dad says quietly, and I study his sudden unease and feel the vibe in the room thicken with tension and anger.

  “Didn’t they stop?” It’s not like they didn’t know they hit me. I may be small, but I know they had to feel the impact of their car hitting me.

  “The police are looking into it,” Dillon states, in a tone that says he doesn’t want to talk about it any more.

  “They don’t know who it was?” I whisper, feeling sick to my stomach. What kind of person hits someone with a car and drives off?

  “Let’s not talk about that right now,” Mom cuts in, stepping away from my dad, coming over and pushing down the rail on the side of the bed. “Let’s just focus on getting you better.” She smiles, but I can tell it’s forced. “Jax dropped off some clothes for you to change into, since yours were ruined. I put them in the bathroom for you.”

  “Jax didn’t stay?” I frown, and she shakes her head.

  “No. He wanted to, but something came up with work.” She shrugs, and I know then that I’m the something that came up with work. I have no doubt he’s searching for the person who hit me right now.

  “I’ll help you change,” Dillon mutters, picking me up off the bed while my mom hovers close to us.

  “I can help her,” Mom says, and Dillon’s jaw tightens.

  “I’ve got her,” he states quietly, and I rest my hand against his tense jaw while he carries me across the room to the bathroom, where he shuts the door before my mom has a chance to follow us in. Setting me to my feet, he steadies me with his hands on my waist then searches my eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay to go home?” he asks cautiously.

  “I’m sure.”

  “You swear you’ll tell me if we need to come back?”

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes at his overprotectiveness, and mumble, “I swear,” while slipping the hospital gown off my shoulders and letting it drop to the floor at my feet.

  “Look at you.” His fingers skim softly down my shoulder, which is covered in road rash, then over my black and blue covered hip and thigh.

  “I’m okay,” I assure him, seeing the unease in his eyes as they scan me over from head to toe.

  “You’re not okay, so stop saying you are,” he growls, looking into my eyes and palming my cheek gently. “You were hit by a car and were unconscious. When we got to the hospital, they thought you were going to need surgery because of the hit you took to the head. No fucking part of that says you’re okay.”

  “Please calm down,” I whisper, hating the fear I see in his gaze. “Dr. Woods said I’m okay, and she’s right. I’m sore, but I’m all right, and if that changes, I swear I’ll tell you and let you bring me back here.”

  “If something happens to you…” He closes his eyes briefly before opening them back up. “I can’t even think about what that would do to me.”

  “What are you not telling me?” I question gently, knowing in my gut he’s keeping something from me. His fear is palpable.

  “Nothing.” He shakes his head then turns me away from him before I can ask him more.

  Catching my reflection in the mirror, my throat closes up. The side of my face, from my cheekbone to my temple, is an ugly shade of yellow-green, and my new blonde hair is copper-colored and matted with blood at the roots. “Oh, my God.” I move a chunk of my hair to the side and see a large portion has been shaved clean to my scalp, which is angry-looking with a row of stitc
hes in the center.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers behind me, and I catch his gaze in the mirror. “They didn’t have any other option.”

  Swallowing, I nod, knowing now is not a time for me to be vain. “It will grow back,” I assure him and me at the same time.

  “It will.” He kisses my road rash covered shoulder softly then picks up my T-shirt that is sitting on the side of the sink. “Let’s get you dressed and then get you home.”

  “Please.” I turn toward him, letting him slip the shirt on over my head and help me feed my arms through the holes in the sleeves. I then watch him get down on his suit-covered knees and hold open a pair of my sweats.

  “Put your hands on my shoulder for balance,” he instructs, and I rest my hands on his shoulder and lift my foot then do the same with the opposite side. Once I have both feet in, he pulls them up my legs, being careful of my thigh and hip as the material skims over my bruised skin. “There.” He kisses my stomach then slides a pair of flip-flops onto my feet.

  “Where are my shoes I had on?” I know, of all the things I should be worried about right now, my shoes should not be one of them, but my Louis Vuitton peep-toe, leopard-print heels were one of the first things I ever bought with my own money, and they are one of my prized possessions.

  “Your cousin has them,” he mutters, dumping the gown I had on in a large red container in the corner of the bathroom.

  “Who?”

  “July. She and Wes didn’t see what happened, they heard my shout and the car…” He stops talking and shakes his head, running his fingers though his hair roughly. “I was going to put you in my car, but July was adamant about not moving you and insisted we call an ambulance. They stayed with me until the ambulance got their then they followed us to the hospital.”

  “They didn’t stay?”

  “They stayed for a while, but they weren’t allowed to stay in the room, so they went home after the doctor assured them you were okay and Jax took off.”

  “You should call her and tell her I’m okay.”

  “Your mom sent out a mass text when we were in the hall earlier. I’m sure the state of Tennessee will be over to see you tomorrow,” he says as he carefully picks me up.