Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“He’s not my—!” Ash realized his voice was going up, rising in pitch and volume, and caught himself with an embarrassed flush. “Uh. He’s not my…I don’t…know what we are.”
“Pain in the ass, that’s what he is. Tried to get him to leave. You try moving a man that big.” She snorted. “Wouldn’t damned well let go of you.”
“Oh,” Ash said faintly.
“You’re fine, by the way,” the nurse mocked gently. “Little bruised up, but not even a concussion—though we’d like to keep you until morning and double check with an MRI.” She pointed the chart at him meaningfully, then slotted it into the holder at the foot of the bed. “You’re lucky the other driver just clipped you. Could’ve been a lot worse.”
“Is that what happened? Someone hit me?”
“Your not-boyfriend said it was a hit and run. Red truck ran a changing red light at an intersection.”
A sick feeling chilled in Ash’s gut. He could’ve been killed right there. Not even dying at an old age like his father, wasting away as disease ate at him.
Just gone, like that.
Barely a blink, and then blinked out.
“Oh,” he said again. “I…thanks for telling me.”
“Mmhm. You just use the call button if you need anything. I wouldn’t try going out there on your own. I’ve kicked out six reporters today. Pain in my ass.”
Ash winced. Of course reporters had found him here. “Sorry.”
She snorted. “I’ll bet you are.”
He forced an apologetic smile. “I’ll be out of your hair by morning.”
“If the doc gives you the all clear.” She eyed him, then patted his foot through the hospital blanket. “Get some rest until then.”
“Sure,” he said. “Thanks.”
The nurse paused to straighten a few things, then let herself out of the room with a significant look and pulled the door closed behind her, leaving them alone. Ash turned his head toward Brand, watching him, trying to let his nearness soothe that horrible clutching feeling inside. That realization that he’d almost died, and he’d never even have seen it coming, never have had even an instant to grapple with the reality of it.
He wondered if that was better or worse than having years to stare death down, and watching it crawling toward you inch by inch.
Fuck, he was morbid right now. He guessed having a dying father and nearly dying himself would do that. He closed his eyes, biting back a low whimper in his throat, when if he let that sound out he’d start crying from the sheer shock of it.
But apparently that sound was enough to rouse Brand—because the man stiffened, his arms tightening around Ash, before he sucked in a sharp breath, lifting his head.
“Young Master.” He said the words with such relief they came out as breathless and strange endearments. “You’re awake—I—are you—”
To see such naked concern on that stoic face…it pulled Ash between a rapid yo-yo of emotions, this mess of confusion and fear and relief and warmth and need and a small and terrified hope for something he couldn’t even name. He smiled humorlessly, shifting one aching arm to curl his hand over the arm Brand had around him.
“I’m fine,” he said. “The nurse said I was a little dinged up, that’s all. And that I was in a hit and run…?”
Fury lit Brand’s eyes like lightning illuminating a dark night, flashing there and gone. “I have alerted the police, but yes. A reckless driver hit your car.”
Ash’s brows knit. “You saw it?”
Another new expression: sheepishness. Brand was just full of them tonight, as if something had ripped away whatever filter kept his emotions masked. “I…ah…I followed you.”
“…why.”
“I was concerned about you driving alone while so tired. Driver fatigue is one of the top causes of automobile accidents in New York, with a rate of approximately—”
“Don’t—” Holding up his hand, Ash laughed—and immediately regretted it, when his ribs protested like they would snap. “I don’t need the statistics. I’ll be mad at you later. If I feel like it.”
Brand watched him searchingly, furrows in his brow, then asked, “…do you need anything? Can I fetch anything for you?”
“Just…I…just be here with me. That’s all I need.” That’s all I ever need. Ash smiled slightly, forcing one weary arm up so he could lightly thread his fingers through the mess of hair drifting across Brand’s brow. “Your hair’s mussed.”
Brand’s shoulders stiffened. “I shall remedy that straightaway.”
“Don’t.” Ash lingered, skimming his fingertips along the arch of Brand’s eyebrow. “I like it.”
“If you like it, then.” Brand captured his hand and pressed his cheek into it; a faint hint of fresh stubble brushed Ash’s palm, followed by the touch of warm lips. “You frightened me near to death, young Master.”
“I promise it wasn’t on purpose. This time.”
“Unrepentant brat.”
“Oversized asshole.”
Brand smiled slightly—reserved, yet with a warmth that stopped Ash’s heart. “So it would seem we both are,” he murmured, and leaned down to kiss Ash, tracing over his lips with a grazing touch that seemed to jumpstart his frozen heart until it beat too fast—reminding him with every sensitized tangle and sweet brush that he was alive, until he groaned with the pure warmth of it rushing through him.