Rain 01 When It Rains (26 page)

The snow started to fall earlier today as the start of a winter storm moved in. These kinds of days make me want to throw my sweats on and curl up on the couch with hot chocolate and a good book. Maybe I can talk Asher into movie day on the couch.

I throw on grey sweats and tie my hair into a ponytail while I wait for him. I’m always eager to see him, but since we were together a couple nights ago, I feel even more connected to him. I gave him the last piece of me I had to give, and he took it with so much care . . . I’ll never forget the look in his eyes as we became one. I’ll never forget the gentle way his hands and lips floated over my entire body. It was exactly how I envisioned my first time would be.

The exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours gets to me, so I let myself drift off to sleep. When I wake up, it’s half past four and Asher isn’t here yet. He’s never late when we have plans. I pull my phone out of my purse and check for a text, but there isn’t one. I dial his number, but he doesn’t answer that either.

I don’t have his dad’s number, so I can’t call him. Maybe he had car problems on the way and is stranded somewhere. He doesn’t have the best car for driving on the snow covered, icy roads.

After a few minutes of worrying and wondering what I can do, I grab my coat and car keys and head out the door. I’m not going to be able to concentrate on anything else until I find him anyway. I carefully maneuver my car through the snowy streets, taking the same path he would take to get to my house. When I turn down his street, I see his car still parked in the driveway. At least he’s not stuck somewhere alongside the road.

I park on the street in front of his house and walk carefully up the ice-covered driveway. The steps leading up to the front door haven’t been shoveled, so I take extra care with them before knocking hard on the glass door. When no one answers, I bang louder, stepping back and waiting for the door to open. But again, no one answers.

Something is telling me that I need to get inside. I look both ways down the street to make sure no one is watching, and then try the handle on the glass door. Surprisingly, it opens. Why is it unlocked? Once inside the living room, I hear nothing but the tick of the old wooden clock that rests on the entertainment center.

“Asher!” I yell. Again, nothing but the sound of the clock passes through the room. I step closer to his bedroom, my heart pounding a little faster with each step. Goosebumps prickle the back of my neck and down my arms as I turn the corner down the hallway. I hear water running in the bathroom, so I softly tap my knuckles against the door and wait for a reply, but there is none.

I carefully turn the knob and slowly push the door open. The water is pouring out of the faucet, but no one stands in front of it. I push the door open a little further and find Asher, hunched over the toilet with his elbows resting on the seat.

“Asher.” Just as I say his name, he begins to heave over the toilet again. I kneel down behind him and place my hand on his back, just to let him know I’m here for him. “It’s okay,” I whisper over and over, trying to soothe him.

When his body finally gives him a break, he grabs a tissue from the box that sits to his side, wiping tears from his eyes. I quickly grab a washcloth and wet it with water so that I can wipe the sweat from his forehead. He leans into my hand, letting me take care of him for once.

“How did you get in here? My dad didn’t let you in, did he?” he finally asks, sounding annoyed.

“No, I knocked but no one answered so I let myself in. You weren’t answering your phone. What’s going on?” I ask, running my fingers up his neck into his wild blonde hair.

“I really don’t want you to see me like this. Why don’t you go back home and I’ll call you when I’m feeling better.”

“How long have you been like this?” I ask, avoiding his comments. He’s crazy if he thinks I’m just going to leave him.

“For a few hours. I think I have the flu or something,” he says, placing his hand over his stomach.

“Will you let me stay and take care of you?”

“You should really go home. I’m not very good company right now,” he replies, resting the back of his head against the bathroom cabinet.

“I’m staying,” I say, grabbing the washcloth to put cool water on it again.

“I’ll make you a deal. Wait outside while I take a shower, and when I’m done you can tuck me in. I think I just need to sleep it off anyway,” he says, slowly standing to face me. He looks horrible; his skin is white and clammy, his eyes are bloodshot, and the hair that lines his face is drenched in sweat.

I lightly dab the washcloth across his forehead and cheeks again. “Do you need help getting in the shower?”

“Any other time I’d take you up on that, but I just want to get in and get out. Why don’t you wait in my room and I’ll be right out.”

“Okay, but leave the door unlocked in case you need me,” I say, running my fingers along his cheek. I’ve needed Asher so much, and now he definitely needs me.

I pace around his room, waiting for him to get out of the shower. If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to talk him into letting me stay here, at least until his dad gets home. I hate the thought of him being alone when he’s obviously very sick. He’s strong, I know that, but sometimes even strong people need someone to take care of them.

I’ve been in his room at the lake house several times, but this is only the second time I’ve been in the bedroom at his dad’s house. It’s very plain which I guess I’d expect since he hasn’t been here long and wasn’t here much before. The one thing that catches my eye is the photo of him with his mom and sister that sits on the table beside his bed. His mom has chin length blonde hair and vibrant blue eyes, while his sister has a head of red curls. They’re standing outside with their arms wrapped around each other, looking happy and carefree. I can’t imagine leaving that behind. He obviously cares deeply for them if he has this picture right next to his bed. I wish I understood why he won’t talk about them more.

The bathroom door opens, startling my attention away from the photo. Asher walks in with black sweat pants and a long sleeved grey t-shirt. He still looks pale, but he’s washed away the other remnants of sickness. His blonde hair is wet and spiked going in every which way.

“Ready for bed?” I ask, giving him a small smile.

“Yeah, bed sounds nice right now,” he replies, walking to me slowly. He rests his hands on my hips and kisses my cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’d do the same for me.”

“I’d do anything for you,” he whispers against my ear.

I pull back his hunter green comforter and wait for him to crawl in. “Let me stay with you for a while, please. At least until your dad gets home.”

He nods once and scoots to the side of his bed. I didn’t necessarily mean I wanted to take half of his bed, but if that’s what he’s offering I’m not going to say no. As soon as I’m tucked in next to him, he presses his body to mine and folds himself around me. It’s not long before we are both drifting off to sleep.

When I wake up from my nap, I’m still snuggled tight next to Asher. I don’t want to wake him, so I slowly loosen his grip and slide off the side of the bed. He looks so peaceful, and I can’t help but softly place a kiss on his forehead before I leave.

As I am walking out, I see his dad sitting at the dining room table. His head is turned toward me, and his lips are pressed together in a pensive line. He opens his mouth but then quickly closes it again.

“Asher wasn’t feeling good, but he’s sleeping now,” I tell him as I fidget with the rings on my fingers.

He nods and turns his attention back to the sandwich in front of him. I watch as he places his head in his hands; his shoulders began to shake.

“Are you okay?” I ask hesitantly, not sure if he knows I’m still standing here.

He startles, looking up at me with wistful eyes. “I’ll be fine. I just have a lot on my mind.” He uses the back of his hands to wipe his eyes.

“If you need anything, call me.” As I show myself out the door, I feel guilty . . . maybe I should stay and make sure they’re okay. Maybe I should have asked Daniel what is going on between them.

It takes me awhile to get the ice scraped off my car. When I finally get home, I crawl into bed and try to read, but all I can think about is Asher. My mind keeps drifting to him until I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.

I haven’t heard from Asher at all since I left him in bed. I did text him during to see if he is feeling better, but I’ve heard nothing back.
I can’t shake this feeling inside . . . the feeling that something is really wrong
.

After I start my car to warm it up, I pull out my phone and dial his number. It rings several times before a voice that doesn’t sound quite like Asher picks it up. “Hello.”

“Asher? Are you okay?”

“No, this is his dad.” Why would his dad be answering his phone?

“Is Asher there? I just wanted to ask how he’s feeling,” I ask, nervously biting my lip.

I hear him sigh heavily, and the phone goes silent for several seconds before he speaks again. “Kate, Asher’s in the hospital,” he says softly.

“What? Why didn’t you call me?” Panic shoots through me like a rocket as I grip the steering wheel tight with my free hand.

“I’m sorry. It was a rough morning and knowing my son, he probably doesn’t want you to see him this way.”

“I don’t care if he wants me there or not. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“I can’t stop you,” he sighs, “but, Kate, you need to be prepared. He’s not in very good shape.”

I close my eyes tight and pull in all the air that I can through my nose. “I’ll be there soon.”

I drive home and change as quickly as I can before hopping back in the car. Please just let him be all right.

T
HE
SECOND
THE
HOSPITAL
DOORS
OPEN
, I’m greeted by the sterile hospital smell I despise and the white floors that I hate so much. I was here when I broke my arm in the third grade, and then again when I had to have my appendix out right after sixth grade. It’s not a place I associate with happiness, and it’s certainly not a place I like to visit if I don’t have to, but Asher needs me. I walk up to the small reception desk that sits right in front of the door and wait for the receptionist to acknowledge my presence.