Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Jasmine
I'm not a fan of hospitals. They're the last place I'll ever decide to go, and if I do, it'll be because I've exhausted every possible option available to me.
My feet hurry across the tiled hospital floor, the smell of disinfectants and pills invading my nostrils. I don't care about that now. I only care about Asher.
And if he is alive or not.
After throwing slight tantrums around, the ER nurse leads me to the room holding him. When I lay my eyes on him, I feel a gaping hole open in my stomach, and I feel color and life disappear from my face.
“Oh God.” I whisper, covering my hands with my mouth.
It's a good thing Brick is in school, because I wouldn't even begin to know how to explain all of this to him.
I move closer to his bed to properly inspect his beaten face.
He's unconscious and even while asleep, his features manage to remain handsome.
“As you can see, ma'am, he's still unconscious,” the nurse says, shuffling her feet beside me.
I turn to look at her, utter inquisition written on my face. “When is he going to wake up?”
“It depends. Could be a few hours. Could be more. Now if you can please go wait outside.”
“I'll wait here.” I say, interrupting and turning to look back at Asher.
“Ma'am, he needs his rest—”
“Like I said, I'm going to wait here.”
There's a brief exchange of willpower between us but she gives up a while later. A loud exhale escapes her mouth, and she turns away from me. I watch her walk past the curtains and straight into the Emergency Room’s center station.
I make my way to Asher and take a seat on one of the empty chairs beside his bed.
I sink fully into the seat and begin to take in the extent of his injuries. There's a cast around his left hand and strapping over his shoulder. His eyes are deeply shut but I can see them continue to quiver ever so slightly. It's almost like he's repeatedly having a terrible dream.
I think of the actual last conversation we had and feel a pang of regret swim up my cheeks.
He said he was in love with me and I never gave him a reply—a solid one.
All of that seems pretty mundane in hindsight now that I'm staring at the bruises on his face and exposed body.
My heart grates at the sheer fact that this was caused because I refuse to sell to Harold Swanson.
“I'm sorry.” I say, unable to muster any other phrase for some reason. Any other phrase except that.
“I'm so sorry.” I say again, feeling a wave of anger grow in me. Anger at the thugs who beat him up like this, at Harold Swanson, at the world in particular.
At myself.
I glance at his hand, the one not wrapped and have the sudden urge to reach for it.
To hold on and tell him silently that he doesn’t have to keep carrying this fight alone.
But the fear that my touch might cause him pain stills me.
I sit, my hands gripping the edge of the chair, thinking about how much he’s risked for me.
He could’ve stayed out of this entirely.
He could’ve kept his head down. Instead, he chose to step into the fire because I matter to him.
And Brick. Sweet Brick. I picture his bright, open face, the way his eyes light up whenever he talks about his dad.
What will he feel if Asher doesn’t make it?
How will he look at me -me, the woman at the center of all this chaos?
A pang of guilt digs sharply into my chest. I care about that boy.
More than I should, maybe. He’s not mine, but I’ve started to imagine what it would mean if he were in my life every day. If both of them were.
The thought terrifies me. And yet, in the quiet of this hospital room, I can’t deny it: I want that future. I should have told Asher that last night.
“Jasmine!”
I open my eyes.
Asher is staring straight at me. A cheesy expression on his face. I had fallen asleep with my head thrown back, no doubt looking like a sleep-deprived child.
“Sleep any harder than that and you might just awaken the Loch Ness monster or something.” The smile on his face should grate on me, but right now it’s the most wonderful I’ve ever seen.
“Why didn't I take a picture?” He whispers, the smile growing on his face.
“One more word out of your mouth, Officer Vaughn, and I could add even more bruises to your body.
“Well, I wouldn't want to cross your lines now, would I?”
A smile appears on my face, and I continue to inspect his body. “How's the pain?”
“Solid seven.” He says back to me, the smile on his face slowly disappearing. “Please don't tell me my son got pulled out of class for this.”
“No.” I reply. “I didn't know if you wanted him to know.”
“Let's keep it that way.” He says, his tone of voice is pristinely clear. “Last thing I need is my son crawling around here worried like hell about me. We’ll tell him when he gets out of school.”
“Good.” I say unable muster any other words.
But inside, I ache. Brick worships his father.
He deserves to know what happened—but if it were my son, would I want him burdened with this image?
With this helplessness? My throat closes.
For all the times that I thought Asher and I stood on opposite sides of every spectrum, I finally see it.
We want the same thing: to protect the people we love, no matter what it costs.
I want to tell him it’s all my fault and that I should have done something. I should've taken further action against Harold and stopped him from doing this.
“You recognize the men who did this to you, don't you?” I ask, resting further into the uncomfortable hospital chair.
“Yeah. I don't think it matters though.” He replies, stifling a broad groan as he shifts gently on the bed.
“I might as well just start picking out a needle in the haystack of needles.
They're not going to turn on Harold and, in a few days or weeks, they're going to be out before the town decides to press charges.”
I feel terrible that this is all I can do.
I want to do more and provide him with some kind of solace.
I want to tell him that seeing him like this is causing me unimaginable pain and there can only be one reason for that.
And it's my answer to his question—the one he had asked me and I had given no answer to.
I know the answer now and it's clearer than ever that—
“Oh Jazzy.” I hear Riley's familiar voice call from the door. A flash of her brightly colored gown catches my eye before she comes into view herself. She appears before me, the worry on her sullen face rather obvious. I throw her a smile, grateful she would come to check on Asher.
To come check on me.
“Ms. Jenkins.” Asher greets, stifling a groan.
“Are you okay? I tried to come as soon as I heard.”
“Trust me.” Asher continues trying to maintain his usual charm. “It looks worse than it actually is.”
“Did you say anything to Brick?” I ask, watching my friend get even further into the room.
“No. I figured you guys would want it to stay that way.” She replies, an edge of seriousness to her voice.
“Yes.” Asher responds.
Riley turns to look at me, a quizzical expression on her face. “And you say this is Harold Swanson?”
I nod in response. “It's got him written all over it and yet for some reason, I can't seem to nail him for it.”
Riley shakes her head, and I see her slowly start to get lost in thought.
When we were little, Riley had always been the one with the mischievous ideas.
She was the one who launched most of our escapades and somehow always came up with a plan.
If there's one thing Riley's going to do, it's come up with a plan.
I can see the gears in her head start to turn as she continues to think hard.
Soon, she turns to me, a smile on her face.
“I know that face.” I say, growing suspicious.
Riley’s eyes alternate between me and Asher. “I think I have an idea. I may know how to stop Harold Swanson, probably for good. All we need to do is make sure he takes the bait.”
She leans closer, her voice dropping. “Men like Harold can’t resist when they think they’re about to win. We just have to give him something he’s too arrogant to walk away from.”
My ears perk up, as I exchange confused glances with Asher.
We bring Brick in after school, because keeping him in the dark isn’t an option anymore.
He sits on the chair beside his dad, hands tight on his knees while I explain what Harold’s men did — the ambush, the threats, every bruise Asher is still carrying. As the words spill out, I watch his face go pale and taut.
“Dad…” His voice breaks on the single word. “You should’ve told me.”
Asher reaches over, steady hand on his son’s shoulder. “I wanted to. I needed you safe until we knew what we were dealing with.”
Brick swallows hard, then nods slowly. “Okay. I get it.” His eyes shine with something fierce and scared all at once. “Just… promise me you’re being careful.”
“Promise,” Asher says quietly.
Jasmine leans forward then, gentle but focused. “Now that you know, you can help us keep it that way. Riley’s got an idea — a way to stop Harold for good. We just have to make sure he takes the bait.”
Brick straightens, still pale but determined. “Tell me what to do.”
Riley squeezes his knee. “Honestly? You don’t do anything dangerous. Just stay in school tomorrow, out of sight with your phone close. If you see Harold or any of his guys, you call 911, no playing hero.”
Asher nods. “You knowing the truth matters. But you’re not bait and you’re not backup. You’re my son, and I love you.”
***
Morning comes, and it’s up to me to initiate the plan. I take a deep breath, pull on my big girl panties, and push my way through an exclusive set of doors.
“You absolute jerk!”
I scream, pushing the doors straight into Harold Swanson's office, my heart and blood filled with boiling rage. Two security guys and a woman I assume to be his receptionist are right on my heels, their hands reaching to stop me but it's too late. I'm here.
And I'm angry.
Harold sits behind his massive desk, with the most confused expression growing on his bearded face when I get even closer to him.
“Ms. Wallace,” if he's incredibly surprised by my surprise, his voice does a good job of hiding it.
“Sir, I'm sorry. We really tried to stop her but she was too quick and we couldn't—” The receptionist behind me starts to say, her voice filled with utter regret.
“It's fine Nikki.” Harold says, waving her and the men away. “I'll take it from here.”
Nikki and the security men nod and make their way out of the office, leaving me alone with him.
I feel a wave of fear creep up my body. Can he do anything to me now that I'm alone with him?
I doubt it. Judging from the past, Harold isn't particularly the kind of guy to want something like that tied to him in any shape or form.
“I hope you're happy with yourself. Because of you, Asher is going to die and no one's going to be able to stop it.”
“Ms. Wallace, I truly don't understand what you're talking about—” he says but I don't give him the audience. This was never meant to be a conversation.
“You just couldn't leave things alone, could you?
I told you I was never interested in selling my diner to you.
I didn't need your money, but you desperately needed me to sell, didn't you?
You are so desperate that you've managed to run me out of my own house. My house, Harold!” I add his first name with as much menace in my voice as possible.
“Ms. Wallace—”
“And now, the one person who's been managing to help me through all of this is going to die because of your selfish need to have people squirming in your palm. You sent your guys to beat him up because he was helping me, didn't you.”
“Did you just come to my office to lay false accusations?”
“Oh, screw you and this stupid charade. Pretending is not going to get you anywhere. The doctors don't think Asher is going to make it through the night and it's all because of you. Do you hear me? Asher’s going to die. His son won’t have any parent! And it's all your miserable fault!” My rage is as real as it’s supposed to be.
No longer an act, tears are threatening my ability to talk.
“Okay, I've entertained this enough,” he says, raising his hand and gesturing for me to stop talking. “If you're not ready to have a civil conversation, then I might as well call security back in to escort you out of the building.”
I breathed in the air filled with the smell of paper. “I'm not having a ‘civil’ conversation with you.” I move even closer to him, feeling my feet dig into the marbled office floor. “And if you think this is going to make me sell for some reason, you've never been more wrong.”
I turn around and head back to the door, ignoring the repeated calls of my name.
It begins to dawn on me even more that I'm not just doing this for myself.
I'm doing it for Asher too. Because I don't need to be puzzled anymore.
My feelings have never been clearer, and it has never been more apparent to me.
I'm in love with him and I have been for quite a while.
Maybe since he put those handcuffs on me that first day.
And I'm going to tell him just that when I get back to the hospital.
Where we go from here completely depends on him.