On the drive home, he felt unexpectedly light. Sean hadn’t known what to expect, but Harper was more than a pretty face. Scratch that, a goddamned gorgeous face. And body—and everything else. Her easy laugh, and the way it somehow lit up her face even more. How she was simultaneously strong and curvy, an Amazonian goddess, but still lithe and willowy like the runway model she was. The way she had to tuck those long legs tight against the leather-looking swing as she sailed through the night.

And that kiss. Damn. That’s what he really hadn’t expected. Of course he knew she wanted him to kiss her at the park. There had been plenty of other opportunities throughout the night, too. Until the very end, he thought he could resist.

Joon-Ki would have been proud if he had, that was for sure. But he just couldn’t resist. What harm could one kiss do, anyway? Sean had just wanted to see, to test it out, check and make sure all of this chemistry wasn’t in his head.

The feeling of her pillowy lips and the faint hint of peppermint stuck to him. When his head hit the pillow, he had no doubts that he’d dream of her. He willed it, that safe escape into exploration where he couldn’t hurt anybody.

In the morning, the kiss was still with him. He checked his phone. Shit. Even on days off there was no sleeping in. His body was too attuned to the schedule.

Harper’s words hung in his head, hidden behind that kiss. I think he’d understand.

Sean rolled out of bed and pulled on some clean jeans and a black t-shirt from the dresser he’d rescued from the sidewalk. He strapped on the distressed leather watch and raked his fingers through his hair. There was no time to shower, he’d second-guess what he was about to do.

He’d never been to Hollywood Presbyterian Medical Hospital, but he’d driven by it plenty of times. Since he’d been released from in-patient, he’d held his breath every time he drove by, like it was a graveyard. It’s not a graveyard, he told his superstitions. It’s Ashton. It’s still Ashton.

As he walked through the sliding glass doors, a sprawling information desk welcomed him. “Can I help you?” asked the portly older man.

“I’m here to see a patient. Ashton Lee.”

The man’s thick fingers flew over the keyboard. “Room 2231. Take the elevators over there, bank A.”

“Thanks.” Sean trudged to the row of oversized sleek elevators. Big enough for a gurneys, he thought. The doctors in their white coats looked like children playing dress up.

His heart hammered into his chest on the ride up and down the long walk of the sterile hallway. He could hear the beeping and mechanical moans before he even walked in. What are you nervous about? It’s not like you really have to face him.

Ashton looked like he was in a deep sleep. He looked the same, yet different. A lot of his muscle had gone, as had the California tan. Small and pale on the stiff white sheets, the beds on either side of him had recently been turned over. Did those people get better and leave? Or worse? It was a possibility that death literally surrounded Ashton, flanked him like shadows.

And it’s my fault. “Hey,” he said. Sean cleared his throat. “Hey, man. Ashton. It’s me. It’s Sean.” Shit, if he can hear you, he knows who it is. But Ashton showed no signs of recognition—or stress, thankfully. His breathing remained slow and steady, and the beeps of the machine were constant.

“Oh!” A nurse walked in. Brunette with a mane of wild hair she’d tried fruitlessly to tame into a bun. “Sorry, you surprised me. He usually doesn’t have visitors this time of day.”

“What happened to the others?”

“Excuse me?” She went about her business, checking the machines and adjusting one of the IVs.

“The other beds here, what happened to those people?”

“They both died,” she said quietly. It was clear that the whisper wasn’t for her benefit, but for Ashton’s. Clearly she thinks he might be able to hear us.

“Did—”

“I can’t tell you any details.” He shifted awkwardly in her way. While she bustled about, he inched towards the door.

“No, please! Feel free to stay, this will only take a couple more minutes. Visiting hours are on now, you’ll have plenty of time. Don’t mind me.”

Sean wasn’t sure how genuine she was, but he pulled Neal Stephenson’s Seveneves out of his jacket pocket and sat down in the stiff plastic chair by Ashton’s bed. He snuck glances at Ashton and tried to figure out exactly what the nurse was doing, but her hands moved too fast.

Was Ashton’s pallor worse than “lost Californian tan?” Had he always been that white under the golden bronze of the sun’s effects? Sean didn’t know. Hell, it’s not like spending weeks in a hospital room is going to do any favors for your looks.

“All set,” the nurse said with an easy smile as she rushed out of the room and onto the next patient.

Sean sighed and tried to find a position in the chair that was semi-comfortable. He found himself reading the same paragraph over and over again. There was no way to concentrate. “You’d like this book,” he eventually said to Ashton.

The only reply was the computer beeps. Still, holding the book in his hand as a shield and the methodic hum of the machines began to loosen him up.

“Shit, Ashton. I miss you,” he said. He watched his friend for any sign of movement, but there was nothing. “That’s something you probably never thought you’d hear me say,” he said with a small laugh. “Sounds weak, right? But it’s the truth.”

Unlike Joon-Ki, who was a great AA guide and listener, Ashton—especially now—held no space for judgment. He was there, but he wasn’t. No, he’s there. He’s here.

“Shit’s been crazy since … well, you know,” he said. He shut the book and put it in his lap. “Whole lot of thinking going on. Non-stop. It’s probably good in a way, right? But it’s driving me fucking insane.”

Sean stopped talking as he heard squeaking shoes make their way down the hall. A middle-aged woman in a white coat that brushed her thighs walked past. “I feel like a goddamned loser,” he told Ashton. “I mean, besides a clutch of women thinking I’m hot, what the hell else do I have going for me? Nothing.”

Instantly, an image of Harper flashed through his mind. That kiss, those lips. She was gorgeous, that was for sure. And fun, but not a party girl. But what else do you know about her?

“There’s this girl …” he began, but didn’t know how to finish.

What would Harper think of him if she saw him right now? If she saw Ashton? All the carnage he’d caused, and for what?

“I’m sorry, man,” he said quietly. “Ashton, I’m sorry.”

He didn’t know what he’d expected. For Ashton to magically sit up and tell him not to worry about it? There wasn’t even a blip on the machines.

You’re destructive. And you’re dangerous. And nowhere near good enough for someone like Harper … or Ashton.

He dropped his head into his hands and practiced the steady breathing. Equal count in and out.

His history, the evidence just an arm’s reach away, was only part of it. If I was just an alcoholic, that would be one thing, he thought.

But there was more. With Harper, especially, there was a lot more. The things he wanted to do to her, the things he’d dreamt about last night, they were filthy. Depraved. It wasn’t light bondage, that little fluffy handcuff bullshit people liked to play around with these days. It was tie her up so she had to beg, really, truly bed with rope burns blazing into her wrists.

God, if she had any idea of the things that got him hard …

“A new visitor!” Another nurse walked in, this one squeaky clean. She didn’t look older than sixteen. “That’s so nice. How do you know Ashton? Family?”

The last thing he wanted to do was sit here and admit to a Girl Scout that he’s the one who’d put her patient in this bed. “Gotta go,” he mumbled and shoved the book back into his pocket.

He didn’t look back at Ashton, or the nurse, as he stormed out of the room. But the machine beeps followed him all the way down the hall. They were everywhere.

As he waited for the elevator, his phone vibrated with a text. “Just checking in,” Harper had written, followed by a string of emojis he wouldn’t even try to untangle.

He hovered a thumb over the screen, but finally put it away without replying. It would be better this way, for both of us, he thought.

Sean felt like shit as he walked to the car. It was his fault, he’d led her on. Hell, he’d invited himself to her party, even though he’d never expected her to say okay. And that whole night, the playground bullshit, it was clear she was into him.

You didn’t have to kiss her. You should have pulled the plug way before that. He grimaced slightly at the phrase. Better late than never. Cut this shit out before it goes too far.

She was a gorgeous girl. Young, a model, the whole future ahead of her. She’d forget about him in no time.