Mend the Seams (Buried Secrets 3)

“Mr. Ashton, do you remember anything?” The doctor asks.

“Not much, everything is still foggy. How long have I been out?” My raspy voice cracks as I speak through the mask.

“For nearly ten hours. You’re oxygen saturation is stabilizing which is fabulous, but the x-ray shows slight tissue damage to the lungs. I think you’re on the mend. We’ll watch you through the remainder of the night and if you’re up for it, we can probably send you home tomorrow. You’ll be sore for a few days, but if you feel like moving around it will help stretch out your muscles.” His cell phone beeps and he pulls it from his pocket as he turns on his heel. “If you need anything, just call out.”

Savannah looks over at me, her soft green eyes marred with streaks of red and my heart collapses. I rip the oxygen mask from my face and with every ounce of strength in me I pull myself up off the bed.

“Luke, what are you doin’? Lay down, you’re hurt!” She shouts. I reach out, wrappin’ my hand around her wrist and pull her into my bare chest and I swear she melts against me. A loud gush of air extinguishes from her lips, ghosting across my chest sendin’ chills up my back. I think that’s the first time she’s exhaled since she got here.

I rake my fingers through the back of her hair and tilt her face up to mine, resting my forehead on hers. “I thought I’d lost you, too. I couldn’t have lived with that heartache, Sav. No damn way.” I part my lips, dyin’ to taste her lips but I think better of it. Right now, she’s high strung on emotion and I don’t wanna confuse her anymore.

“You’re crazy. I can’t believe you nearly sacrificed your life to save mine.” She swallows hard, her eyes driftin’ closed. “I’m so happy that you’re okay.”

“Don’t hide from me like that, sweetheart. Look at me.” I urge, trailin’ the pad of my thumb across her soft cheek. “Tell me what you’re really feelin’, Sav.”

She shakes her head and tries to push away from me, but I keep my grip on her hips holding her firmly in place. “You need to rest, Luke.”

I scoot back on the bed and drag her with me, tuckin’ her to my side. “No, sweetheart. What I need is this-you in my arms, holdin’ you tight. Not lettin’ ya go, Sav.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Luke Ashton, you’re gonna kill yourself if you don’t slow it the hell down!” I growl. “And damn it, Colton Weston, you of all people should help me keep his ass in line! What? Is your frickin’ back broke? You couldn’t have carried that in by yourself?” I glance over to Colton who’s surely makin’ himself useful as he props the screen door open with his foot while Luke lugs in the boxed bed frame.

Colton deadpans as he pops a handful of peanuts in his mouth. “I told the dumb ass that’s what the furniture store offered delivery and setup for, but hell no, he’s dead set on doin’ this shit himself. He ain’t dead. His brute ass can handle carryin’ in a box. I carried one in.” Colton shrugs as a cocky laugh falls from his lips and I punch him in the ribs as I pass by him.

“Asshole.”

Luke props the box against the wall, then falls back against the couch panting for air, over exerted from pushing himself too hard these last few days. He was lucky. He didn’t suffer any substantial damage from the fire, just smoke inhalation and some light burns to his arms, face and lung tissue. He was released the very next day-mainly because of his persistence. The doctor gave him very specific instructions to take it easy for a few days, give his body time to recuperate without exerting himself, but Luke ain’t listened in the least.

Knowing he was safe only erased one worry from my troubled mind. When I escaped Josh’s wrath last summer I was intent on rebuilding my life, finding the Savannah who was once resilient and happy. Luke was my anchor while I treaded the murky waters. So many times I felt as if I’d drown I was so exhausted from fighting, but he refused to let me lose hope and made me fight back.

Now, I have to rebuild my life in an entirely different way. A new home, new vehicle, new everything. My childhood home-where I’ve been livin’ since Josh nearly killed me is now just a crumbling structure of char and water soaked ashes. Remnants of our childhood lay among the splintered wood and shattered glass just above the lies and secrets that house was built on.

Leaving the hospital with Luke, I felt lost. When you leave one place, you usually go home. But where the hell is home? I didn’t want to impose on Carly and Colton, they’re house just ain’t big enough for two families, and I sure as hell can’t buy a house in just one day. I didn’t have a plan in place. I was too concerned with Luke to consider anything, but once he was released I didn’t know where to go. A hotel?

Luke pulled out onto the road and headed in the opposite direction of Carly’s. I asked him where he was headed and his reply was simple-home. We arrived at his farm house a short bit later and I knew then he must have suffered lack of oxygen to the brain. We argued for a bit, but like everything else with Luke and I, he didn’t give up. He just kept pushing until I surrendered. It doesn’t much matter, Luke has been right by my side for the last four months, sleeping in the guest room at my house. Nothing would change.

But it did.

I was fine with lying to myself, keeping my guard up where Luke is concerned, but I had grown tired of keeping my façade in place. The very day of the fire, I finally accepted my feelings for him and was prepared to finally talk to him about us, but tragedy struck nearly stripping him from me. We haven’t discussed it much since he’s been home, everything has been too hectic. Trying to get Luke to slow down, letting me and Carly get the house together has been like trying to bath a frickin’ cat. The twins have stayed at her house the last few nights, while I’ve been burning the midnight oil painting their bedrooms.

That was the next issue. Bedrooms. Luke’s house is a three bedroom two bath farm house. A little on the small side, but since Luke hasn’t revamped much, it still holds that old country charm. We were at the hardware store picking out paint. I searched through the neutral colors deciding on an earthy beige. Luke was confused why I was painting both rooms the same color and I was confused why he thought I was painting two rooms. When he realized I was planning for Brailee and Braden to share a room while I took the other he began to protest.

“My little girl’s room is gonna reflect her personality-bright and cheerful. Not some shitty brown. And Braden’s room needs to be kick ass.” His little girl?

“Uhm, they’re sharing a room, you do realize this, right?” I questioned.

“Like hell. They didn’t share a room at your house, they ain’t sharin’ at our house!” There he goes again with the labels-his girl, his little girl, our kiddos, our house.

“So, I guess I should bunk with Brailee then?” I asked him seriously. Panic filled my chest.

I knew then where this was going, I was just hoping he would ease me into it. He shook his head in disbelief, grabbed two paint cards and strutted off to the paint counter. The argument didn’t end there…hell, it still hasn’t ended.

Colton kicks at Luke’s boot, standing firm with his hand on his hips. “Move ya big ass, son. Let’s get this shit put together so you’re brats can get outta my hair already. Ain’t gotta clue how Savannah and Carly put up with all three of the little terrors when they get ‘em together.” Colton shoots me a wink and smirk. He loves Brailee and Braden like they’re his. Luke grumbles at him, his words unintelligible.

“Go on home, Colton. We can get the beds assembled tomorrow.”

“You sure?” He asks with a cocked up, intimidating brow. That look used to scare me, but Colton’s just a gentle teddy bear.