Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
My friends are together.
Smoke is getting some long-overdue improvements.
And I’m looking forward to going home.
It’s a strange feeling. Not that I don’t enjoy being at Smoke—I do, it’s my entire life, and I love all these people—but I have something else in my days now.
For years, it’s only been this place. Now, I have Carson, and whatever creepy, intensely obsessive relationship we’re starting to build.
I still plan on running off at the first chance I get—but now I don’t feel so motivated to make it happen.
Everything is good. For the first time in my life, I feel truly settled.
Until I get a call from the hospital.
It comes through around five. I’m poking through a box filled with fake plants that definitely don’t match the decor when my phone rings. Thinking it’s Carson, I answer right away. “Hello?”
“Hello, ah, is this Ashlyn Locke? I’m calling about your brother, Iain Locke?” A young woman’s on the other end, sounding bored.
“Yes, hi, this is her.” My heart starts pounding into my throat. I steel myself for the worst news.
“The doctor wanted me to call and let you know that he’s awake, that he’s doing well, and he asked about you. If you wanted to visit.”
And instead, I get the best news imaginable.
“I do, I mean, that’s fantastic.” I stand up straight in shock. I didn’t think Iain would ever come back to us, much less with enough of himself intact to actually be able to talk. “Can I come now?”
“Yes, please, but visiting ends at eight.”
She hangs up.
I stare at my phone, my head dizzy. I consider calling Carson, but I don’t want to waste the time. Instead, I order an Uber and hurry into the main room. Bernie’s filling a drink order. She glances over as I approach.
“It’s Iain, he’s awake.”
Bernie nearly drops the glass. “Holy shit.”
“I’m heading to the hospital now.”
“Right, yeah, absolutely, go see him.”
“I’ll be back before closing, okay?”
“Take your time, don’t rush. We’re fine. Wow! He’s awake!”
“I know.” I give her a quick hug. “Thank you, Bernie.”
I rush out into the street, hop into the Uber, and I’m riding the elevator up to Iain’s floor twenty minutes later. In his hall, I slow down, starting to feel nervous for the first time, but a friendly nurse directs me to his private room.
It’s dark. The lights are out. Machines beep. “Iain?” I ask tentatively as I come around the curtain.
His eyes are the same. A deep, dark blue. He peers at me from under his hair, gone shaggy now. It badly needs a trim. The tube into his lungs is gone, only the lines into his arm are left. He manages a smile. “You came. I told them to call you first.”
“You’re awake.” Tears jam themselves into my throat. I walk over to his bedside and kneel down, taking his hand in my own.
All of a sudden, the mourning I’ve been able to keep pushed to the side comes rushing back. Being around Carson’s been like a drug, numbing the pain, quieting my brain.
But seeing Iain awake wrenches all those emotions free.
He squeezes my hand weakly. “I’m awake. Feeling like shit though.” He clears his throat. “Glad you came. Didn’t think you would.”
“Iain. I’m so sorry.” They’re the first words I can think of. What else is there to say? Tears fall down my cheeks. Crying for him, for my father. Everyone I’ve lost. “I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve never cut you out. I should’ve been talking to you all these years, and I promise, I’m not going to turn my back on you again. I promise. I really screwed up.”
“Okay, okay, slow down,” he says, sounding exhausted. His smile fades away. “Did he talk to you?”
I tilt my head, not sure what he’s talking about. “Did who talk to me?”
His face tenses, grimacing as if the effort pains him. “Did Carson talk to you?”
I pause for a long moment, not sure why he’s talking about Carson right now. We have so much to discuss—all those years we weren’t talking, Dad’s death, dozens of things. Instead, it’s Carson. My stomach feels sick. Something is wrong here. Something is very, very wrong.
I tell him, “Yes. He did.”
His grip tightens on my hand with more strength than I thought he had. His eyes harden, and his face twists into a snarl.
“Ashlyn, listen to me, no matter what he says, do not get involved with that man. Do you understand me? Under no circumstances should you ever, ever trust Carson Crowley. Do you hear me, Ash? Are you listening?” He pulls me closer. “Stay away from Carson Crowley.”
Chapter 31
Ash
I release his hand, stand, and stagger a step away from the bed.
His eyes track me, face twisted in discomfort.
My head’s ringing. I can’t understand why he would say that—Carson’s his boss, his best friend, the guy that saved his life when it looked like everything was lost.