From Ashes

He started shaking his head, so I kept talking before he could.

“And tonight—last night, is not your fault. How you’re even able to twist it around so that it is is just beyond me. But obviously it was some freak accident, and from what you’re saying, I’m alive because of you.”

“Cassidy, you don’t know what you mean to me. I can’t—I can’t lose you.” He tried to clench his jaw shut, but his lips and jaw were still quivering. “I can’t.”

“I know,” I whispered softly, and kissed his trembling lips. “Losing you would kill me too.”

Gage exhaled deeply and laid his head on my chest, his fingertips on my throat, not saying anything else. I scooted over and after a minute he awkwardly climbed onto the hospital bed with me; his fingertips went right back to my throat, but this time his head rested on the mattress next to mine and we just stared at each other. His hand wasn’t uncomfortable—in fact I barely felt it—but for some reason having it there was a new lifeline for Gage, and he was clinging to it. Hard.

Chapter Twenty

CASSIDY

IT’D BEEN ALMOST a month since the scorpion sting, and thank God things were back to normal—well, mostly. I’d had to spend the rest of that weekend in the hospital, and when I’d gone back to the ranch, Gage had two different exterminators that specialize in scorpions come out to give bids. He didn’t care about the money; he cared about which one he thought “wasn’t full of shit.” Apparently scorpions were hard to get rid of, but he and the exterminator were confident they’d done all they could. After I was informed how wrong I’d been about scorpions in Texas, I realized they were going overboard, but I let him do what he needed, same as with his pulse checks.

I don’t know if Gage knew he was still doing it, if it was just second nature now, or if he thought I didn’t realize what he was doing, but every time he came up to me, his fingers ended up on my throat or wrists somehow. He’d actually gotten really good at it, to the point where if I didn’t know what he was doing, I would think he was holding me sweetly. When he would pull me toward him, it was almost always done by my wrist; sometimes when he kissed me he would pin my arms behind my back and hold my hands there, but his index finger would always be on a pulse point. Others, he would go to cup my cheeks, but would cup behind my neck instead, which I loved, and I loved the way he trailed his thumb down my throat even more, but like I said, I knew what he was doing.

And although it’d been a month, and I thought he should be able to see me without having to reassure himself that I was breathing, I wasn’t about to say a word to him. After all, I wasn’t the one who’d seen his chest not moving. I wasn’t the one who’d had to search for his pulse.

We were starting to get ready for Thanksgiving, which was a little over a week away, and I was kind of excited and nervous about it. I’d made parts of Thanksgiving for the guys the last two years, but I would be cooking with Tessa and Amanda this year, and from what I’d been told, this meal was their specialty. I’d asked why we were doing a Thanksgiving lunch instead of a Thanksgiving dinner, and Gage had just shrugged while saying, “It’s Texas,” like that should be the only explanation I needed. I’d just raised an eyebrow at him and waited until he sighed and gave his version of an explanation.

“Everyone spends the day with their family, but it’s the UT–A & M game, darlin’, that takes up the night for us.”

My response when I saw his mom and dad look at me like I should understand this by now? “Ah.”

If cooking a Thanksgiving meal with Tessa wasn’t enough to be nervous about, it didn’t help that I’d been having some issues the last week that had my nerves skyrocketing. I called my doctor, and he’d said especially after the shock of the sting and the allergic reaction, I shouldn’t worry about it. But I was worried about it; in fact it was all I was thinking about. So I told Gage I had to run in to town to grab some things for his mom and would be back before dinner—all true, just not the whole truth. He was already dealing with enough as it was; I didn’t need to worry him with how I’d been feeling off . . . and other random things.

With another look at the doctor’s office door, then the clock on the dashboard, I grabbed my purse and hopped out of my SUV. It was time to find out exactly what this scorpion sting had done to me.

AN HOUR LATER I was back in my car and just staring at nothing. I tried figuring out how to tell Gage, but I could barely convince myself that it was happening, so how could I tell him? I didn’t even know how I felt about it—no . . . that’s not true. I did. I knew exactly how I felt. I was terrified, and all I could see was my mom and Jeff. Memories so burned into me, I swear I could still feel Jeff slamming the large vase over my back until it shattered. Could feel my mom taking one of the larger chunks and digging it into the small of my back and making a large, bloody X. Could hear her moans as Jeff screwed her brains out after they let me up to go to my room.

I shivered and actually shook myself as I reached for my purse and the letter from Mom. After reading it three times, taking another few minutes to just clear my mind and find the beauty from their ashes all over again, I took a deep breath and pulled out my cell.

“How’s my favorite SMB?”

“Fine.” I laughed and ran a hand through my long, wavy hair. I wasn’t fine yet, but I would be. “How long did it take for my jersey to come in last time, Jake?”