27. ashton #2
“I ain’t got time, Reston. I got a flight back to New York tomorrow night. I’m all out of time.”
“Don’t give up on him, okay? I gotta go, but if you need me, call. Any time. I’ll get on the first flight.”
“Love you, Res.” I take a long, deep breath and bring my free hand up to massage my temple lightly. My skull feels like it’s being crushed, and I’m not looking forward to the long ride home, jostling around on horseback. But, needs must.
“Love you too. Go home. Take your meds. drink some water. Don’t make me call Everett to come get you.”
A deep sigh leaves my lips, sending jabs of pain through my head and neck. “How’d you know?” I ask. I shouldn’t question it: like Brooks has always known me, Reston has, too.
“You’ve had your eyes closed for the last ten minutes, and you emptied your water bottle about a half hour ago.
” I crack one eye open and see the call timer on the screen.
We’ve been talking for nearly forty minutes, between my crying and Reston’s giving me space and time, and the sky has darkened to a deep twilight shade of blue. “You need me to call someone?”
I don’t want to have to rely on someone.
I don’t want to be that girl—the burden.
I don’t want someone else to have to do my job for me, I want to do it for myself.
I should be living, not grieving the pain-free life I hoped I’d have.
But despite myself, I lift my chin and drop it again slowly in a hesitant nod.
I bite my lip against the searing pain. I don’t think I could get home by myself.
“Hang tight, Ash, ‘kay? I’m gonna call Ev, and then I’ll call you back.”
A quiet beep signals the end of the call and I pull my knees to my chest. Mayo’s nose nudges my shoulder and I tip my head carefully to rest against his.
The support of his body against mine eases a little of the pain, somehow.
They say animals always know, that they can sense when we’re hurting.
I’ve always known Mayo and I had a connection, but it’s not until right now that I truly understand what it means.
Warm puffs of air against my shoulder accompany his quiet sighs, and he doesn’t leave my side.
Even when my phone rings again and my shaking hands fumble to swipe at the screen, he rests his head against me.
“They’re coming for you, Ash. You’re at the cavern, right?”
“Mhmm,” I answer. It hurts too much to nod, or to say anything more. Reston’s voice is loud, like he’s stood right beside me and yelling, even though he’s talking quietly.
“This is a bad one, huh?” he asks. I think, if I could open my eyes, his would be wide.
He’d be looking at me with concern painted across his features.
He only ever saw this once when we were younger; a migraine came out of the blue along with storm clouds, and he lifted me into his arms to carry me from the boundary line between our properties all the way back to my parents’ house.
It was a thirty-minute journey of being jostled with each step Reston took, pausing just once to let me throw up.
His long stride ate up the distance as the thunder rumbled closer, and he refused to relinquish his hold on me, even to my brother.
At fifteen, Reston Fisher carried me all the way up the stairs to my attic bedroom, and only once he’d safely tugged my blankets over my trembling body did he take a full breath.
An engine growls, closer and louder by the second, and it cuts out just about the same time as a pair of bright headlights shine on me and then disappear almost immediately.
“Thanks, bro,” a voice whispers. My phone is taken from my hand. “C’mon, Ashey.”
I’m surrounded by Jody’s scent. Something warm and spicy, a little herbal, and it’s usually delicious.
But it’s strong as hell, and I have to fight against my body to not throw up as he carefully snakes his arms beneath my body and lifts me against his chest. With my eyes scrunched closed and my entire body thrumming with pulses of pain that match every heartbeat, I try to figure out who’s here and what’s going on.
“Shit.” That voice is my brother’s. “Get her in the back seat.” I assume they’ve driven in Jody’s ancient Jeep Wrangler, but when he ducks down to slide me into the vehicle, I find myself embraced by leather, dirt, tobacco, and a hint of vanilla.
Actually, quite a lot of vanilla. Somehow, Everett has managed to navigate his truck down this narrow, barely-worn track, and Jody tucks my arms and legs against my body as he carefully lays me on the back seat.
A small hand brushes a stray piece of hair from my face as my head lands in someone’s lap.
“It’s me, Ash,” a quiet voice says. It’s whispered, but loud as hell, and my entire body winces.
“It’s Ruth. You’re okay.” Her hands are gentle as she strokes my hair and then twines my fingers with hers.
Somewhere outside the truck, Mayo snorts.
It’s a nervous sound, one that says he’s not sure he’s safe or comfortable with whatever is happening.
It takes every last ounce of energy I have to lift my arm and reach out to him with a groan.
Ruth’s touch is soft as she pulls my arm back against my body.
Each point of contact burns with even more pain, but it’s swallowed almost immediately by an enveloping darkness that falls over me like a blanket.
The last thing I hear before I black out is Ruth’s promise of safety.
“He’s okay, Ashton. Jody’s gonna bring him home.” Ruth grasps my hand with hers. “You’re both safe, sweet thing. Just rest now.”