Bad Habit (Bad Love 1)

“Asher?” This time it’s Natalia’s worried voice.

“I’m fine.” My harsh tone is enough to shut down any further questions. We sit in tense silence for I don’t know how long before a man in a white coat calls my name.

“Asher Kelley?” His eyes scan the room. There aren’t many people in here, which is unheard of for a weekend. A couple of moms and their sick kids, an elderly couple, and us. I stand, stuffing my hands into my front pockets.

“Is this your family?” he asks.

“No,” I say at the same time Dash says, “Yes.”

The doctor looks confused, but doesn’t press.

“Can you both come with me?”

Dash hesitates, looking back at Natalia, and she assures him that she’ll call him if there is any news on Briar. He nods, and we follow Dr. Bad News to a private room.

The room has a couple of chairs, a coffee table with magazines, a TV, and some miscellaneous games for kids, but is otherwise empty.

“Can you tell me what you know of your father’s condition?” he starts.

“He has liver failure.” I scratch at the stubble on my jaw. “That’s about all I know.”

“Yes. His condition has been worsening over the past couple of weeks. Were you aware?”

I clench my jaw. He didn’t tell me that. He didn’t even hint at it.

“No,” I say through gritted teeth.

“His nurse found him when she went in for her shift.”

“His nurse?” I ask, my eyebrows drawing together in confusion. Maybe he has the wrong guy. “My father didn’t have a nurse.”

“He finally agreed to hospice care about a week ago. He didn’t tell you that, either?”

“No, I guess not.”

He steps forward, his hand coming down to my shoulder. I stare at it. He continues, “We did everything we could. Unfortunately, his cirrhosis was too advanced.”

He keeps speaking, but I don’t hear the words. “We did everything we could.” Everyone knows what that means.

At some point, Dash starts answering for me, though I still can’t make out any of their conversation. My mom is dead. My dad is dead. Briar is lying, hurt, somewhere in this hospital. And the common denominator is me.

“Would you like to see him?” The doctor’s voice breaks through my thoughts. I shake my head. What’s the point, right? He’s dead.

“Let me know if you change your mind, but it needs to be relatively soon,” he says gently, holding out a card. Dash takes it. “My cell is on the back. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. Again, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Another shoulder pat, then he’s gone.

“Asher…” Dash says, letting my name hang between us. The words sound foreign from his mouth. He doesn’t call me Asher. He calls me Kelley. I don’t think he’s called me by my first name once in the six years we’ve been friends. And for some reason, it enrages me. It makes everything more real. He wouldn’t be calling me that if shit weren’t fucked up.

I knew this was coming. It’s the whole reason I came back. So, why does it seem like the rug has been pulled out from beneath me?

Dash’s phone buzzes, and he reads the message on his screen.

“The nurse said Briar’s okay. She just has a mild concussion, and we can see her in a few minutes.”

I’m relieved, so fucking relieved, but I feel heavy. Like a dark cloud is over my head, tainting everything and everyone I come in contact with.

Dash walks toward the door and pauses, looking back at me when he realizes I’m not making a move to leave. “You coming?”