Bad Habit (Bad Love 1)

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.