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First, I lost my son, and now I’m basically an invalid.

“You’re alive,” Quinn says softly. “It could have been much worse.”

“Maybe for you. Starting to seem like it would’ve been best for me if the damn accident had just killed me,” I say in complete earnestness. Why not just let me die? Why take my son and then leave me in this hell, for at least a year based on what the doctor is telling me? “So what else is all fucked up, doc?” I don’t care whether or not he thinks I’m a complete bitch.

“Well,” he responds with some attitude of his own. Fuck him. “We had to remove your spleen, which will make you more susceptible to infection from now on, but all in all, you’ll be fine without it. After that, we delivered the baby by caesarean. The procedure went fine. There was no permanent damage that would prevent future children. The OB will also give you more information on that procedure when he comes in.”

“Anything else?” I ask, entirely done with this conversation. I want to drift back off into the darkness, where I can hopefully dream about life as though it hadn’t just been completely ripped away from me.

“No. Do you have any questions?”

“Can I have another dose of whatever you’re giving me for pain, please?”

He nods and looks toward Quinn, silently asking if she has any questions.

“How long does she have to stay?” Good question. Funny that I hadn’t thought to ask it.

“I’d say at least a few more days. We’ll reassess everything at the end of the week.”

Great! I get to stay and look at the same ugly walls for a few more days. Wonder if I can just stay in a drug-induced coma until I have to face the real world—or better yet, for the rest of my now-miserable life.

“What day is it?” I ask, not feeling up to the effort of counting the days out in my head.

“Thursday,” Quinn says in unison with the doctor whose name I still don’t know. Not that I really care.

“Oh…” Yep, four days. That’s right.

“I’ll have a nurse administer another dose of medication for you,” the doctor says before leaving the room.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Quinn asks.

“No, I don’t want to fucking talk about it. I don’t want to talk about how my life has been torn to shreds or how I didn’t get to meet my son but the asshole who helped create him did. Why the fuck is he even here anyway?” I know she’s just trying to be a good friend, but I don’t have in it me to care.

“Because I called him. He had every right to be here, Ashley. I know you’re pissed, but do you realize we didn’t know if you’d even make it? We had no clue if you were going to wake up, and if you did wake up, we didn’t know if you would be you or some mushed up version of yourself. Be mad all you want, but the only thing I care about right now is that you’re alive and you’re you.”

I hear the anger in her voice and see the fear still lingering in her eyes. I shouldn’t be mad at her for calling people to lean on, but I can’t stand the thought of Tanner getting to see my baby when I won’t get to.

“Am I me, Quinn? Look at me!” I yell. “I’m a fucking invalid. I can’t even wipe my own ass! I’m stuck in this fucking bed like a useless piece of shit. You heard him—almost a year of recovery! Yeah, I’m really alive, and I’m really me. Tell me what the fucking point is. Huh? It would’ve been easier for you to plan a funeral instead of having to wait on me for the next several months, and it would’ve been easier for me to have never woken up! At least one of us is happy I’m alive…” I turn my head away from her since it’s the only part of my body I have any control over right now, ignoring her tears.

Thankfully, a few moments later, the nurse comes in with my ticket to oblivion.

Chapter 16

Tanner

I’m relieved to find Ashley sleeping when I get back to the hospital in the afternoon. She might as well have reached into my chest and ripped my heart out when she kicked me out of the room. I know she hates me—I hate myself—but that doesn’t make the sting of her anger hurt any less. I have countless battles to look forward to with her from here on out, and the road ahead is going to be hard, but nothing will stop me from being here for her, not even Ashley herself.

“Hey,” I greet Quinn as I take the empty seat next to her.

She smiles sadly. “Hi.”

“How’s she doing?” I ask, unsure whether or not I want to know the answer.

“Worse than expected.” Tears well up in her eyes.

“What happened?”

“She said the accident should’ve just killed her too,” Quinn says.

“Goddammit.” I’d known her reaction would be bad but I hadn’t expected her to wish she were dead.

Quinn sniffles. “She’s mad I called you too.” Quinn has always been the strong one, so I hadn’t thought about how hard all of this must be on her.

I suddenly wish I hadn’t told Alex to take a night off. He’d wanted to come back with me, but I’d told him I’d be okay, completely forgetting about Quinn.

“Let her be mad at me, Quinn. Let her pin it all on me.” I’ve been preparing myself to take the blame anyway.

There had been a glimmer of hope that she might have forgiven me when she woke up. She’d seemed to be looking to me for answers. I should have seen her attention for what it was though—I was just the only one in the room she knew. I see that clearly now, and it was a reality check.

“But it’s not your fault. You have every right to be here,” Quinn argues.

“It’s okay. I knew this was coming. I’ve done wrong by her, and because of that, she’s landed here. It’s on me. You’re the only one she’ll lean on, and she needs you. We know that she’ll pull through now, so why don’t you go home and get some sleep in a real bed? You’re going to need it.”

“She’s going to be pissed if she wakes up and you’re the only one here.”

I have no doubt that Quinn’s completely correct in that assessment, but I’ve spent the last few hours preparing myself for the oncoming storm. Alex has tried to convince to me to give Ashley some more time apart, but I can’t do that. I need to be with her, even if she doesn’t want me to be.

“I can handle it,” I tell her.

Quinn can’t deal with Ashley all on her own. Plus, Ashley can’t run from me here, so we might as well start hashing things out now. I’d felt the anger radiating from Ashley as soon as she heard I’d gotten to see the baby, and I understand her rage. I’d be more than angry myself if I hadn’t gotten to see that little miracle. Ashley didn’t have that chance, and she’s heartbroken. I can’t fault her for it. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to wake up blissfully ignorant only to find your entire world has been ripped out from under you. At least I was conscious for it.

“Call me if she gets too unruly,” Quinn says, vacating her chair. “I really could use a good night’s sleep in my own bed.”

“Sure,” I say, watching her leave the room, knowing full well I won’t call. I want Ashley to lean on only me for a little bit, even if she doesn’t want to.

I take a look around, really taking everything in for the first time. Before, my focus had always been strictly on Ashley, but now that I know she’ll make a full recovery, the tunnel vision has subsided a bit. Of course, I’m only assuming she’ll make a full recovery. Hopefully, Quinn would have told me if anything had changed in the time I was gone.

There are several vases of flowers by the window I haven’t noticed before. Checking the message cards, I see one is from the paper, one is surprisingly from the Jets’ organization, and one from her friends at a place called Legends. I don’t know what Legends is, but they clearly know Ashley well enough to send flowers. The last arrangement is from a “Jason.” There’s no note with it, just the signature.

I can only think of one Jason who Ashley has ever mentioned, and that asshole has a lot of nerve to send her flowers. He’d better not show up here, at least not while I am… and I don’t plan on being anywhere else.

A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts of taking my aggression out on Ashley’s awful ex-boyfriend. I glance over and see the friendly nurse, Darla, standing there with a box in her hands.

She smiles despondently. “Hi, Tanner.” Darla had insisted on calling me Mr. Garrison during her first two shifts with Ashley, but after that I’d told her enough was enough and that she should call me Tanner.

“Hi, Darla.” I smile back.

She glances at Ashley’s sleeping form in the bed. “I know she’s not awake at the moment, but I thought she might like to look at this.” She lifts the box in her hands.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a box of things regarding the baby we put together,” Darla says as she lays the box on the little rolling tray beside the bed before heading back out into the hallway.

I really want to know what’s in the box, but I decide it may be better for Ashley to get to do something before me. I’ve already taken the most precious moment from her, and I know she’s never going to let me forget it.

I take a seat on the uncomfortable reclining contraption in the corner and close my eyes, hoping to get a little bit of sleep. I’m sure I’ll need it once Ashley wakes up and finds me here instead of Quinn.

The sound of someone crying softly startles me from my sleep. I slowly open one eye to find Ashley weeping over the box that Darla left on her food tray.

I attempt to rise quietly from my chair, feeling certain that as soon as Ashley realizes that I’m up, she’ll demand I leave again. As soon as the stupid chair creaks, she looks over at me, but she quickly directs her attention back to the contents of the box.

“Did you already get to see this?” she asks, sounding more sad than hostile.

“No. I thought you should get to see if first,” I say, glad she hasn’t decided to attack me the way she did last time. I make my way slowly toward the bed, hoping to get close enough to see what’s in the box before she goes on the defensive again.

“Hmpf.” She ignores my approach, never taking her eyes off the box.

I get close enough to see that she’s looking at a picture, a picture of the baby. In it, he has on a blue crocheted hat, and he’s wrapped in the same blue striped blanket I held him in. The nurses must’ve taken the picture of him for Ashley.

“He’s so beautiful.” She sobs, dropping the picture back in the box.

How she was able to reach the box with her limited range of motion is beyond me, but with the urge to comfort her as overwhelming as it, now isn’t the time to try and figure it out. I sit down next to her good leg, afraid of accidently bumping into her injured knee. At least her arm has a plaster cast to protect it. Even though I know she’s going to push me away, I pull her to me as gently as I can so she has someone’s shoulder to cry on right now.

“I know he is. He’s the most beautiful baby I’ve even seen—not that I expected any less. Look at his mom.” I know those aren’t the right words to say as soon as they leave my mouth, but that doesn’t make them any less true.

She pulls away from my grasp and glares. “Since you’re the only one who got to see him, tell me about him.” It’s not a request. It’s a demand.

I spend the next five minutes recounting everything I possibly can about my short time with our son. Tears flow from my eyes even though I’m trying to stay strong, and we both cry together until her mood suddenly flips from sad to angry again.

“How can you sit there and play the brokenhearted father?” She sneers at me as she scoots farther away. “You didn’t even want him. Don’t think I forgot about that little message you sent over with Melissa.”

“What are you talking about? I did want him. I never sent you any message through Melissa,” I say, honestly having no clue what she’s talking about.

“Please. You’re really going to deny you sent her over to tell me to abort the baby?”

What the fuck? “I
never
sent Melissa anywhere, and I would never suggest that.
Ever
.” I have absolutely no idea where this is coming from, but I have sick feeling that I’m not going like it.

“Melissa came to the condo the week of my birthday. She said you two were making plans for your future—
together
. She told me all about how you were going to take over her daddy’s company when you retired from football. She also informed me that you would never accept the baby and neither would she—since the two of you were going to wind up married anyway. She said I should consider doing everyone a favor by getting rid of him,” she says, her voice filled with rage and sadness.