36. Ashley
CHAPTER 36
ASHLEY
S ean read my last my text, but he didn’t reply. I’m a mess about the situation with Chris too. Why won’t Sean talk to me? My heart is twisted into a vise hold because of how he’s acting. I don’t know what to do, and I need him. But I’m not going to give up on us. I’m determined to speak with him no matter what, even if that means speaking the truth in front of my mother. Chris already knows anyway; it’s only a matter of time until he tells her. It’s better if she hears the story from me. Surely she’ll understand that we can’t control who we fall in love with.
I text Mom to let her know we’re back. She asks us to go straight to Chris’s room. I’m shaking on the walk there, and my heart is stuck in my throat. I’m not sure what to expect.
“Do you think your dad will be against my relationship with Sean?” I ask Kenzie.
“Maybe? You actually know him better than I do.”
Her answer only makes me more anxious. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from spiraling out of control. My pulse is racing. I need to calm down.
We find Mom sitting on a chair next to Chris’s bed, but she’s the only visitor in the room.
“Where’s Sean?” I ask.
My outburst gets Chris’s immediate attention. I feel small under his intense stare. Even in a hospital bed, he’s still imposing as shit.
“I don’t know, honey. He’s not answering my texts,” Mom replies.
That’s not good.
Kenzie approaches her father’s bed, but I remain rooted to the spot. The room wavers out of focus, and I can’t get air into my lungs. Kenzie asks how Chris is doing, but the sound of her voice is garbled in my ears. I need to move, get out of this room, and find a place to hide until I’m over the panic attack.
“Ash, are you okay?” Mom asks.
Hell. Too late.
Kenzie takes one look at me and understanding dawns on her face. She walks over and takes my hand. “Ash needs fresh air. We’ll be right back.”
She leads me out of the room, and in the hallway, tears begin to roll down my cheeks. Mercifully, the people we cross paths with pay us no attention. I guess in this area of the hospital, everyone is used to seeing someone cry. Depressing.
Kenzie leads to me to the nearest restroom, which seems empty. She spins me around and holds me by the shoulders. “You’ll be okay, Ash. Take deep breaths.”
I can’t hold her stare, so I focus on the pattern of her Christmas sweater as I try to control my breathing. Her sweater has snowflakes and snowmen all over it, and the pattern blurs together, thanks to the tears in my eyes.
It takes a while for my breathing to return to normal, but the tightness in my heart remains.
“Are you better now?” Kenzie asks.
“Yeah, I think so.” I turn to the mirror and wince. My eyes are bloodshot, and my face is red and wet.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like that.”
“No, this was one of my worst episodes.” I splash cold water on my face, then quickly dry it.
“Maybe you should speak with Sean before you talk to our dad.”
“That’s what I want to do, but Sean is avoiding me.”
Kenzie crosses her arms and stares at nothing in particular. “Running away from problems isn’t Sean’s MO. I’m worried.”
My stomach clenches painfully, especially now that I know he used to self-harm. “I’m gonna try his phone again.”
It rings and rings, and I fear it’ll go to voicemail. When he answers, I almost don’t believe it.
“Hey,” he says in a raspy voice.
“Where are you? Everyone is worried.”
“I’m home. Can you come? We need to talk.”
My stomach churns. Nothing good ever follows when someone says those words. “Yeah, I’ll come right now.”
“See you soon.”
He ends the call before I can get another word in.
“So, where is he?” Kenzie asks.
“Home. He wants to talk.”
“Now?” Her brows arch.
“Yeah. Can you tell Mom and Chris where I went?”
“I can, but… are you sure you can drive?”
“I’m fine now. Besides, I have a feeling he wants me to go alone.”
Kenzie steps into my space and hugs me. “No matter what happens, I have your back.”
“Thank you. Wish me luck.”
She smiles. “You don’t need luck, Ash. I know Sean loves you.”
I wish I shared her optimism. I know he does, but sometimes, love isn’t enough.