Asher

I’m going to fuck Dash up. That’s my only thought as I push Briar out of the way right before his fist makes contact with her face. I get it. I fucked up. But he’s putting Briar in danger because he can’t see past his anger.

I hear Whitley scream, and from the corner of my eye, I see Briar go down. She hits the side of her head on the table next to Whitley, sending the tray of coke flying. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Briar!” I scream her name, but she doesn’t move. Whitley stands there, gaping, and brings her hands to her mouth. I drop to my knees. I want to shake her, to lift her head and force her to look at me, but I know I shouldn’t move her. Blood pools under her head, and I look to Dash, who’s white as a fucking ghost.

“Call 911!”

Adrian breaks out of frozen fear, frantically feeling around for the phone in his pocket.

“Briar, baby, wake up. Why the fuck isn’t she waking up?!”

This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. Memories flash through my head of seeing my mom just like this, and I shake my head, violently, to rid myself of the images assaulting my mind. This is Briar, and this is different.

Everything is muffled, but I recognize Adrian’s voice relaying the address to the police. The party below us still goes on, completely oblivious to what’s taking place above their heads. Carefully, I try to move Briar onto her side. I think I remember reading that you’re supposed to do that somewhere, and I can’t sit here and do nothing.

“Get the fuck away from her,” Dash says, breaking out of his shock. “You’ve done enough!” He steps forward and kneels next to her. His shaky hands reach out to touch her, but he stops himself. “You fucking pushed her. You did this!”

No.

No.

“Walk the fuck away, Ash.”

But I can’t. I won’t. Even if that means the end of my friendship with Dash. I pick Briar. I’ll choose Briar every fucking day if I have to.

She’s still not waking up. Shouldn’t she have woken up by now? I want to argue with him. Tell him that I was trying to protect her from him, not hurt her. But, as I see her crimson blood spreading across the hardwood floor, I know that there has never been a clearer sign in my life. I’m no good for her.

“Whitley!” Adrian snaps, and she jumps, her eyes darting up to his. “Get everyone out of here. The party is over.” She nods, panicked. “Now!” Adrian shouts, and she finally runs out of the room.

“Dash, keep her head and shoulders elevated, but don’t move her neck.” Dash closes his eyes and blows out his breath. “Okay. Okay, I got it.”

“Kelley, go get a clean towel or a washcloth or something. We need to stop the bleeding.”

I don’t want to walk away from her. I feel like if I do… I can’t even go down that road. She’s going to be fine. She just bumped her head. Ignoring the fear that grips my throat, stealing all my air, and the blood on my boots, I bolt into action.

“How do you know all this? She’s going to be okay, right?” I hear Dash ask Adrian as I’m walking out the door.

“When your mom is a doctor, you pick up a few things over the years.”

I don’t hear Dash’s response. I run down the hall toward the bathroom we almost went into before. Fuck, how was that only twenty minutes ago? How did everything get this bad in so little time? I barge in on a couple—some guy getting head as he sits on the toilet and a redhead between his knees—and yell at them to get the fuck out. They both jump up, and he trips over his pants as they run away.

“Fuck!” I can’t find a towel. Darting back into the hall, I see a door that’s narrower than the others and hope to fuck it’s a linen closet. I grab two thick, white towels and one washcloth and rush back to the room.

“She hasn’t woken up?” I ask, sliding the towels underneath her head. The longer she’s unconscious, the more I’m filled with a feeling of pure dread. Wisps of her blonde hair are stuck to the blood on her temple and cheek. Dash balled up his T-shirt, stopping the flow of blood, and he removes it to let me hold the washcloth there.

“Where the fuck is the ambulance?” Dash’s panic-stricken voice echoes my thoughts. It feels like it’s been hours, but in reality, it’s probably only been about two minutes since she fell.

“I’m going to make sure everyone’s out of the way and wait for them,” Adrian says, leaving us alone with Briar.

“I can’t…” I start, but my voice cracks. I clear my throat and try again. “I can’t lose her. She’s the only fucking good thing in my world.”

“Stop. The only reason you’re still here is because my sister needs me right now.”

I want to tell him to try it. Just fucking try to make me leave. But now isn’t the time. So, we wait in tense silence for what seems like days, until the paramedics or EMTs or whoever the fuck they are pile into the room. There’s about six of them, two of them carrying a stretcher.

Natalia comes barreling in on their heels, all the color gone from her face.

“Oh my God!” she shrieks.

“How long has she been unconscious?” one of the paramedics asks.

“I don’t know, fuck, maybe ten minutes?” Dash answers.

“What’s her name?”

“Briar Vale.”

“Briar, can you hear me?” another one asks, squatting down and checking her pulse. When she doesn’t respond, he presses his knuckles hard against the center of her chest.

“The fuck are you doing?” I bark, just barely stopping myself from smacking his hand away. I think I see her stir, but I can’t be sure.

“I’m testing her level of consciousness. Has she had anything to drink?”

“No, I don’t think so,” I reply, but, fuck, I’m not sure. “She hit her head on the corner of the table.” I gesture to the nightstand and realize that no one even thought to clean up the drugs and paraphernalia. It’s the last thing I’m worried about—it’s not my shit—but the disapproving look the medic shoots me tells me he thinks he’s got us all figured out.

“She wasn’t drinking,” Natalia chimes in, twisting her hands together. “I gave her a cup of that punch, but she set it on the table without taking a sip.”

“And she doesn’t fucking do drugs,” I add pointedly.

“Okay, let’s get her to the hospital.”

Briar’s loaded up onto the stretcher and carried downstairs. My stomach rolls, and for a second, I think I’m going to throw up. I can’t help but draw parallels to the way I lost my mom. The unresponsiveness, the blood. My phone rings, but I don’t even look at it before hitting the fuck you button.

She’s fine. She has to be.

Once outside, they ask who’s riding with her to the hospital, and both Dash and I step forward.

“Only one,” the medic snaps, looking between the two of us impatiently. “And figure it out soon or neither one of you is going.” He turns his attention to lifting Briar into the ambulance, and even though I want nothing more than to fight for my place next to her, I know I need to let this one go.

“The only way you’re riding in the ambulance with her is if you’re in a goddamn body bag,” Dash says in a low, threatening voice.

Shaking my head, I walk off wordlessly toward my truck. Except I’m blocked in by two other cars.

Fuck!

I’m seriously debating on hot-wiring a car—it’s what I fucking do best, after all—when Natalia rolls up and motions for me to jump in.

“Need a ride?”

Tears are streaming down her face, but she tries to play it off with a shaky, unconvincing smile. Most of the time, Natalia is a pain in my ass. She’s loud and opinionated, and I wish she came with a mute button. I tolerate her at best. But right now, we are the same. Two people who are trying to keep their shit together while the most important person in their lives is sitting in an ambulance.

I climb into her flashy little sports car that costs more than most people’s homes. Her hand trembles as she reaches for the gear stick, and she stalls out. She smacks the steering wheel, and a frustrated growl leaves her mouth. I can tell she’s losing it. Really fucking losing it. We don’t have time to waste, so I place her hand on the shifter and cover it with my own. Her eyes shoot up to mine.

“Get it together. Briar needs us.”

“Okay. Okay,” she says, sounding like she’s trying to convince herself.

“Breathe.”

She does, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

“Now, let’s fucking go.”

She turns the key and pushes in the clutch, and this time, she doesn’t stall. She accelerates, weaving in and out of traffic to catch up to the blue and red flashing lights, and stays on their tail all the way to the hospital. She follows it all the way up to the emergency entrance and lets me jump out before going to park the car.

I run toward the ambulance as they unload the stretcher that carries my fucking heart. The first thing I notice is that Dash is talking to her, reassuring her that everything is okay.

She’s awake. She’s fucking awake.

“Briar!” I yell as I get closer, and her panicked eyes follow the sound.

“Asher? What happened? Asher, please.” She sounds desperate and confused, and I tell myself not to panic that she doesn’t remember. That it’s common with head injuries. Right?

“You’re okay. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

They wheel her into the hospital. The bright fluorescent lights and bustling of the busy ER are a stark contrast from the quiet night sky.

“You both need to wait out here,” one of the paramedics says over his shoulder. “Someone will be out to update you soon.”

“Asher, please don’t leave me,” Briar says, right before they go through the double doors that we aren’t allowed to pass.

“I’ll be here, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” I shout after her.

And it’s true. Nothing and no one could make me leave her. I pace the waiting room, hands crossed behind my head, while Dash opts to take a seat. I try to distract myself by counting the square tiles on the ceiling and making out shapes in the water stain that seeped through.

After a while, I notice him staring at me, his eyes following my every move with his arms crossed, expression contemplative.

“What?” I snap, annoyed.

“She asked for you.”

Briar?

“When?”

“She asked for you right when she came to, and then she told you not to leave her. Not me. Any time she fell and scraped her knee or any time she forgot her lunch, she’d call me. Not my parents. Me. But she asked for you.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t know where he’s going with it, either. So, I don’t respond. After another minute or two, he breaks the silence again.

“She loves you,” he says grudgingly.

I pause my pacing, and even though the words aren’t coming from her, my heart starts to pound harder at the thought. I know he doesn’t mean like a brother or a friend, or he wouldn’t be upset at the idea.

“Yeah, well, I fucked that up.”

Why couldn’t I have just walked away? My actions caused this.

I take a seat two chairs away from him, with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. My phone rings again, and I silence it. Not a second later, Natalia comes barging through the doors like a bat out of hell. She’s still in her party dress, but her shoes dangle from her fingers.

“Where is she? Is she okay? Have you heard anything? They need better fucking parking. It took me ten minutes to find a spot. That’s not really conducive to an emergency situation,” she yells.

Annnnd, the motor mouth is back.

“Calm down, turbo. She’s awake, but we aren’t allowed to go back yet,” I say, dropping my head back down.

“She’s awake,” she repeats, equal parts shock and relief lacing her Dash tone. “Thank fuck.” Natalia tosses her shoes underneath the chair between Dash and me before collapsing into it like a sack of potatoes.

My phone goes off again from my pocket, and this time I’m ready to kill whoever is calling me. I check the screen—it’s a private number.

“What?” I bark into the phone.

“Hi, yes, may I speak with Asher Kelley?” a man’s deep voice asks.

“This is a bad fucking time. Whatever you’re selling I’m not interested.” I almost hang up, but his next words stop me.

“It’s about your father. John Kelley? This is Doctor DuCane from Banner North. I need you to come to the hospital.” His voice is firm, but somehow soft, and deep down, I already know what’s coming.

“I, uh, I’m actually here already,” I say, plugging one ear with my finger and angling my body away from Dash and Natalia. “Is he okay?”

“Oh,” he says, sounding surprised. “Where are you? I’d like to come speak with you personally.”

The burning dread that had lessened to warm coals is back with a vengeance with each passing second.

“I’m in the emergency waiting room. Is he dead?” I ask bluntly, cutting to the chase. “Just fucking tell me.”

I feel two sets of concerned eyes on me, but I ignore them both. I don’t need anyone’s pity, and I don’t need this fucking doctor to come hold my hand.

“I’m on my way to you now,” is all he says. I hang up the phone, flipping it around in my hands without looking up.

“Everything all right, man?” Dash asks tentatively.

I don’t respond.

“Asher?” This time it’s Natalia’s worried voice.

“I’m fine.” My harsh tone is enough to shut down any further questions. We sit in tense silence for I don’t know how long before a man in a white coat calls my name.

“Asher Kelley?” His eyes scan the room. There aren’t many people in here, which is unheard of for a weekend. A couple of moms and their sick kids, an elderly couple, and us. I stand, stuffing my hands into my front pockets.

“Is this your family?” he asks.

“No,” I say at the same time Dash says, “Yes.”

The doctor looks confused, but doesn’t press.

“Can you both come with me?”

Dash hesitates, looking back at Natalia, and she assures him that she’ll call him if there is any news on Briar. He nods, and we follow Dr. Bad News to a private room.

The room has a couple of chairs, a coffee table with magazines, a TV, and some miscellaneous games for kids, but is otherwise empty.

“Can you tell me what you know of your father’s condition?” he starts.

“He has liver failure.” I scratch at the stubble on my jaw. “That’s about all I know.”

“Yes. His condition has been worsening over the past couple of weeks. Were you aware?”

I clench my jaw. He didn’t tell me that. He didn’t even hint at it.

“No,” I say through gritted teeth.

“His nurse found him when she went in for her shift.”

“His nurse?” I ask, my eyebrows drawing together in confusion. Maybe he has the wrong guy. “My father didn’t have a nurse.”

“He finally agreed to hospice care about a week ago. He didn’t tell you that, either?”

“No, I guess not.”

He steps forward, his hand coming down to my shoulder. I stare at it. He continues, “We did everything we could. Unfortunately, his cirrhosis was too advanced.”

He keeps speaking, but I don’t hear the words. “We did everything we could.” Everyone knows what that means.

At some point, Dash starts answering for me, though I still can’t make out any of their conversation. My mom is dead. My dad is dead. Briar is lying, hurt, somewhere in this hospital. And the common denominator is me.

“Would you like to see him?” The doctor’s voice breaks through my thoughts. I shake my head. What’s the point, right? He’s dead.

“Let me know if you change your mind, but it needs to be relatively soon,” he says gently, holding out a card. Dash takes it. “My cell is on the back. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. Again, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Another shoulder pat, then he’s gone.

“Asher…” Dash says, letting my name hang between us. The words sound foreign from his mouth. He doesn’t call me Asher. He calls me Kelley. I don’t think he’s called me by my first name once in the six years we’ve been friends. And for some reason, it enrages me. It makes everything more real. He wouldn’t be calling me that if shit weren’t fucked up.

I knew this was coming. It’s the whole reason I came back. So, why does it seem like the rug has been pulled out from beneath me?

Dash’s phone buzzes, and he reads the message on his screen.

“The nurse said Briar’s okay. She just has a mild concussion, and we can see her in a few minutes.”

I’m relieved, so fucking relieved, but I feel heavy. Like a dark cloud is over my head, tainting everything and everyone I come in contact with.

Dash walks toward the door and pauses, looking back at me when he realizes I’m not making a move to leave. “You coming?”

“I just need a minute.”

He dips his chin in acknowledgment and pats the doorframe. He hesitates—searching for the right words—but there aren’t any, so he walks out, leaving me to the maelstrom of emotions going through me.

My mom died because of me. My dad essentially died because he couldn’t handle life without her, which again, comes back on me. He died alone. That one’s my fault, too. And Briar. If I hadn’t insisted on going upstairs. If I had walked away from Jackson, instead of letting my rage control me, she wouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have come back. And if I stick around much longer, I’m sure it will be too late for her, too.

Dash and Natalia are waiting on me. Briar’s fucking waiting on me. My father is waiting on me. I don’t want to face any of them, and stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced is the urge to bolt. I can’t fucking be here. I feel like I can’t breathe. My pulse hammers in my ears, and the room spins around me. Bending over and bracing my hands on my knees, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to suck in air, to no avail. I can’t get enough into my lungs.

I need out. Out of this room. Out of this hospital. Out of this town. Then, maybe I’ll be able to breathe again.