“At least she’ll be alive to carry it out,” I mocked.
“This is seriously messed up. She hates you, Asher.”
“I don’t care how she feels. I’m going to do what I’ve always done—protect her.”
Dante shook his head. His hands rested on his hips. “Fine. But if you’re going back in there don’t upset her. Just stay quiet. She needs calm right now. Don’t even talk to her. Ok?”
“Ok.”
I nodded and walked inside room 321.
I took the chair in the corner and watched Journey sleep. Her dark blond hair was pulled to the side in a braid. I guessed that was one of Dante’s touches.
I should have been here. I could have stopped this from happening. I could have kept her safe. I never would have let her go to the gym alone. How stupid and lax had this team become since I left? Was this how they had operated for two years?
I knew they hated me. Dante’s words weren’t a surprise. I walked away. Turned my back on her. I abandoned her.
Watching her sleep like this, I couldn’t come up with a single reason why I wasn’t spending my life with her.
My elbows dug into my knees as I buried my face in my hands.
The machine beside her beeped. She sighed lightly in a deep sleep.
I did something I never did—I prayed.
I swore then and there, that I would never leave Journey unprotected again. I’d make whatever deal God wanted me to make, to ensure she woke up and smiled. I wanted to hear her laugh. I wanted to watch her walk on the beach. I wanted to catch her curled up with a book. I wanted to see her dance around the kitchen to silly 80s songs. I’d do whatever it took. Whatever sacrifice God came up with, to give her all those moments again.
Four
Journey
I didn’t want to wake up. This bed was deliciously comfortable. But my head was pounding and I was thirsty. I could get up, grab some aspirin, and crawl back into this perfect bed. I could stay here all day and relax. Wouldn’t that be a luxury? I could do something people thought movie stars did all the time.
I knew that wasn’t something I could do. I had to start my day. First, with a detox tea and my morning meditation on the dais overlooking the ocean. I hoped by the end of my practice, the headache would be gone.
I let one eye open an
d then another.
I shrieked when I saw the stern woman sitting next to me.
“Who are you?” I croaked. My voice was hoarse. “Wh-what are you doing next to my bed?” It was an absurd question. One I was certain I had never asked anyone before.
“Look who’s awake.” She patted my wrist. “I’m your nurse.” Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun and she had deep lines on her forehead.
“Nurse?” That didn’t make sense.
The headache pounded at the base of my skull. I looked around. I didn’t recognize this room. I wasn’t in my Malibu beach house. I looked over the nurse’s shoulder at the towering trees outside. Nothing looked familiar, yet I felt a strange connection to the room. I couldn’t place it. Everything felt a little fuzzy and distant.
She rose steadily and placed the back of her hand on my forehead the same way my mother did when I was a child. “Yes, I’m your personal nurse. Mr. Westbrook hired me to take care of you and assist with your recovery.”
“Mr. Westbrook?” I eyed her. I must have misunderstood. There’s no way. No possible way.
“You don’t mean Asher Westbrook?” I asked again.
I tried to sit up. Everything was wrong. As I pushed into the bed with my elbows a stinging pain shot through my arm. I looked down at the bandage wrapped around my left bicep.
“Yes. He has personally seen to everything. He’s been worried,” she whispered. “But I knew you’d be fine. Just a scratch on the arm and a bump on the head. Just a few stitches here and there.” She smiled. “But he wanted everything a certain way. His instructions.” She patted the back of my hand. “Don’t know that I’ve met a man like him before.”