Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTY
Pain wakes me before consciousness does. Not sharp. Just…heavy. My body feels like it’s been filled with wet cement, and every breath struggles to push through it. The air smells sterile. Clean in a way that makes my stomach turn.
The realization comes in slowly, fighting through the fog–I’m in the hospital.
My lashes flutter, and the light slices in too bright.
I groan and squeeze them shut. Someone shuffles somewhere around me, and when I open my eyes again, the room is dimly lit.
Closing them once more, I exhale and a sharp pain in my ribs causes me to wince.
My throat burns as I try to swallow, my mouth feeling like sandpaper.
A machine to my left beeps in sync with my steady heartbeat, but what causes me to open my eyes finally is the warmth that’s wrapped around my hand.
I don’t have to look to know that it’s him. Karson.
“You’re awake.” His voice is low and controlled. Too controlled.
Turning my head slowly, it feels like I’m moving through water.
He sits beside the bed, forearms resting on his knees, fingers wrapped around mine like letting go isn't an option. For a second, relief washes over me. Then something flickers in my chest when I try to move, and my ribs scream for me to stop.
Not a memory. A feeling.
Cold pavement.
A weight pressing into my side.
Breath leaving my lungs.
My brows knit.
“What…” My voice barely makes it out. “What happened?”
Karson doesn't answer right away. His thumb brushes slowly over my knuckles in a rhythmic pattern, as if he’s trying to keep me grounded.
“You went outside,” he says finally.
Another flicker.
String lights. A breeze. Footsteps–no. The absence of them.
My stomach turns.
“I remember walking in the courtyard,” I whisper. “And then–”
Nothing. My chest tightens.
“Did I fall?” The question sounds wrong, even to me. Karson’s jaw tightens.
“No.”
The single word hits hard. Something inside of me recoils, and I struggle to understand why.
Movement behind me.
The air shifting.
Impact.
My ribs throb as if my body remembers before my mind does. I suck in a painful breath.
“Oh. How long have I been out?”
“About fourteen hours. The doctors wanted to keep you sedated because of the pain, and to make sure you didn’t have any swelling in your brain.”
I nod slowly. Karson stands from his chair and reaches for me, his hands gently cupping both sides of my face. It’s obviously bruised because I wince at his featherlight touch. Hurricane eyes search my face before he gently drops his forehead to mine.
“I’ll protect you,” he whispers painfully. “Everyone’s afraid of me anyway.”
A sob bubbles in my chest, and gets stuck in my already burning throat.
It hurts too much to move. Too much to breathe.
Too much to feel anything except the weight of his hands and the quiet desperation in his voice.
The words wrap around my heart and squeeze.
Words I’ve never forgotten. A promise he’s kept.
He blames himself.
“You’re here,” I murmur. His eyes close for a second like the words hit somewhere deep.
“I’m always here,” he says.
“This wasn’t your fault,” I tell him.
He nods as if he knows, but guilt swims behind his eyes.
“I didn’t see him,” I say quietly. “I didn’t hear anything.”
Karson doesn’t respond, and I raise my hand to cover his.
“I just wanted to get some air,” I add, my voice thin but steady.
“I know, doll.”
“And I wasn’t scared,” I whisper. “Not when I went out there.”
Because why would I have been?
“I know that you have eyes everywhere,” I continue. “I knew it was safe.” The word sounds silly now as I say it.
“You don’t need to try to explain yourself, Ashlynn. You’re allowed to walk outside, or walk the casino floor if you need to get some space. You don’t need my permission.” His hands leave my face and he cups my hand, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed.
My throat tightens. Even when I was cornered in Rapture, I’ve never felt unsafe in Perdition.
I knew that no matter what, my shadow was always behind me.
Keeping any danger clear of me, and making it so I never had to look over my shoulder in fear as I moved throughout the casino.
I wasn’t careless. I wasn’t naive. I was living.
And someone decided to take that away from me.
My fingers curl weakly in his.
“I don’t want to stop living because of this,” I whisper.
His thumb brushes over my knuckles again.
“You won’t.”
I nod, blinking away the tears that threaten to fall.
I will not let whoever did this win.
“I was so sure,” I mutter, more to myself than him.
Karson’s grip tightens slightly.
“Sure of what?”
“That I was finally past needing someone to stand between me and the world.”
His gaze doesn't leave mine.
“You don’t need me to stand between you and anything.”
“I know,” I whisper. And I do. That’s what makes this different. I swallow hard, my ribs protesting the movement.
“But I need you anyway.” The words hang between us, fragile but certain. Karson stills. Not shocked or confused, just waiting.
“I’ve spent so long telling myself that what I felt back then was just some silly childhood attachment,” I continue, my voice barely holding together.
“Something born out of being scared and alone. I turned it into anger when you left because it was easier to carry. Over time, that anger turned to hate.”
My fingers flex in his palm.
“But it was never empty,” I admit. “Even when I wanted it to be.”
His gaze doesn’t leave mine. Not once.
“Somewhere along the way,” I whisper, “it stopped being about who you were to me back then…and became about who you are to me now.” My throat tightens.
“I love you, Karson.”
The words don’t feel dramatic. They feel like the truth that I fought tooth and nail to keep repressed for entirely too long. Simple and inevitable.
He doesn’t react right away. No sharp inhale.
No stunned silence. Just stillness. My heart thunders in my ears, causing my head to throb.
I hold my breath, waiting for him to say something…
anything. I feel vulnerable in a way I’ve never felt before.
When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter than I’ve ever heard it.
“Love doesn’t begin to cover what I feel for you.”
My breath catches. He leans closer, careful of the wires and the bruises, his forehead resting lightly against mine again.
“I don’t just love you,” he murmurs. “Love is small. It’s temporary and something people fall in and out of every day. You’re not something I fell into, or grew into. You’re not a habit or a comfort.”
There’s no apology in it. Just the truth.
“I didn’t fall for you.” His gaze hardens. “I built myself around you.”
The words hit harder than any confession.
“You were the only thing in this world that ever made staying feel worth it,” he says. “Before I ever even knew what that meant.”
My chest tightens.
“You’re not something I could fall out of,” he says quietly. “You’re not something I could survive losing and just keep going.”
His hurricane orbs lock onto mine.
“You’re the constant. You’re everything. Love will never be a word big enough, but I do love you.”
The words settle deep. Like something that was always true finally said out loud. My throat tightens, and I don’t trust my voice enough to try. So I don’t. Instead, my fingers curl weakly in his and I close my eyes.
“I know,” I manage to whisper. Because I do. I’ve always known.
His thumb brushes across my knuckles, slower this time, like he’s trying to ground himself now. The moment hangs between us–fragile, quiet, real. He softly presses his lips to my forehead, careful of any injuries I might have.
I don’t even want to know what I look like right now.
Just then, the door opens and Parker steps inside, her movements hesitant when she sees us like this. Relief flashes across her face first, before morphing to concern.
“Ash,” she breathes softly as she moves toward the bed.
Karson doesn’t move away from me, but the world rushes back in anyway. The beeping machines, the sterile air, and the weight of everything that waits outside of this room.
His phone vibrates in his pocket twice. We both feel it, and he goes still before reluctantly standing from the bed. Parker’s hands cup my face, turning me toward her as she checks me over. Her fingers brush my hair, eyes softening when they meet mine.
“How are you feeling?” she asks, her amber gaze filled with worry.
“Like shit,” I say as I try to sit up further in the bed. She helps, placing her arms under my armpits to lift me, relieving some of the pull I feel in my lungs.
My gaze slides to Karson, who watches us carefully before stuffing his hand in his pocket and pulling out his phone. He stills, scanning the screen before letting out a breath. His eyes lift to me, then to Parker.
“I already know,” she tells him. “Go.” She nods toward the door.
He doesn’t move. His phone hangs loose in his hand, screen still lit. His jaw works once like he’s trying to grind something down that refuses to break.
“It can wait,” he growls softly. “I’m not leaving her.”
My eyes dart back and forth between them confused.
“What’s going on?”
“Yes, you are. I’ve got her, and she’s not going back there until the situation is dealt with.” Parker orders.
Odd.
Karson Tate, the man who doesn’t take orders from anyone, not even Elias, straightens his spine as my best friend speaks.
“What’s going on?” I ask, louder this time.
Karson lets out a harsh breath and his eyes meet mine.
“Something I need to take care of before you can go back home.”
He glares at Parker for a second, pissed she’s right. Then, his eyes soften–not in defeat, but trust. He comes back to my side, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.
“I’ll be back,” he promises and I smile softly up at him.
He leans down, and plants a soft kiss to my busted lips, then stands. He looks at Parker once more, then exits the room. The door clicks softly behind him and I focus my gaze on Parker, eyes narrowing.
“Tell me what’s happening,” I say firmly as she lowers herself to the end of the bed.
“They got who attacked you.”
Outside the room, I hear the distant echo of Karson’s heavy footsteps down the hall. A chill runs through me, deeper than the cold from the courtyard ever was.
And I know, this isn’t over.