Asher (Inked Brotherhood 1)

“On the contrary,” he says. “I’m the one who should be here.”

“This isn’t your place.”

“This has always been my place.” His expression is grim. “It’s what I deserve.”

I put my hand on the wheel. “No. You should get out while you still can.”

He shakes his head, his eyes focused ahead. “For me it’s too late.”

“No. Ash. Get out before—”

Then comes the crash, the noise, the pain. I struggle, I thrash, I try to escape. It never works.

But I jerk awake and sit up in bed, twisted in my sheets and covers. God. My chest aches and sourness rises in my throat. I swallowed convulsively.

I’m okay. It’s just a nightmare.

At least some of it. My fingers search for the scar on thigh where metal sliced into my flesh, then move up to my lower belly, where they operated to fix the bleeding in my liver and kidney.

You’re fine, I tell myself. It’s over. You survived. You’re alive.

But the pressure in my chest won’t let up and I struggle to breathe through it. I haven’t had a panic attack in quite some time.

My fingers curl against the biggest scar, the one on my leg. Why did I dream of Ash? And those things he said in the dream...

Dread sours my mouth again. I have such a bad feeling. I’m not one to put stock in premonitions, but suddenly I fear for Ash. I need to make sure he’s alive, that he’s fine.

Shit.

I fumble for my cell on my nightstand and hit call on his number.

Like before, it rings and rings. He never picks up.

I glance at the time. Three in the morning. Of course he doesn’t pick up. He’s asleep. He probably turned the sound off.

The dread persists, slicking my palms. It’s the nightmare, I tell myself. The memories. The attack on campus. Maybe also the things Tessa said earlier, about Ash blaming himself.

Well, all he has to do is pick up the frigging phone and I’m ready to pour my heart out, tell him I don’t blame him. That I really, really like him, even though I’ve been giving him other signals. That I’ve missed him more than I thought possible, and I want...

I clench my fingers around the cell. I’m not sure what I want. Right now, I just wish for the horrible fear to go away and leave me in peace.

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I try calling Ash one more time. Same result.

Sighing, I lie back down and try to get some sleep.

***

Next day, I limp out of the building to find Tessa’s Jeep parked outside.

Predictably her first words as I climb into her car, before I even close the door, are, “Did you call him?”

I roll my eyes. “My ankle still hurts, thanks for asking, Tess.”

“Well, did you?”

“Yeah,” I grumble. “He didn’t pick up.”