My eyes watered and I had to breathe slowly and deeply. When I felt sufficiently able to control the pain, I cautiously opened my eyes. I was alone in the car and thin fingers of gray light filtered through the window.
I turned my head carefully and saw Ash some distance away, standing at the side of the road. He bent over suddenly and was violently sick.
My instinct was to go to him, but my body fought me, confining me to the car seat. Instead, I reached into my purse and retrieved my meds, gulping them down with a bottle of water that I’d bought at the airport. It wasn’t ideal taking them on an empty stomach, but I couldn’t face a Snickers bar, which was the only food I had with me.
I tried to sit up straighter, but my body protested, locking me into a painful, lopsided position. The minutes ticked past and Ash was still standing by the road, but now his head was tipped back and he was staring up at the sky.
The early morning mist cleared and the sun painted the landscape in grays and browns that slowly turned to reds and golds as the sun rose higher. I was horrified to see that the back of Ash’s t-shirt was stained—dark patches that could only be dried blood.
Finally, he turned and walked back to the car, his face shifting as he realized that I was awake and watching him.
We stared at each other awkwardly.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” he said at last.
“You didn’t.”
He shrugged then winced.
“The road ahead divides so I didn’t know which way to go.”
If there was another reason why he’d stopped, he wasn’t admitting to it.
I pulled out my phone, then grimaced. Dead as a dodo. The battery must have died during the night and I could picture the place in my hotel room where I’d left the charger.
Sighing, I shoved it back in my purse and went through the glove box to find the rental agency’s road map.
“From here, we get on the I-70. That takes us to Denver.”
“Den-ver.” Ash rolled the word around on his tongue and looked at me blankly. “Okay.”
“Are you alright to drive? You look . . . tired.”
“I can drive.”
I nodded although his reply hadn’t convinced me.
“I, uh, I need to find a bathroom,” I said uncomfortably.
Ash’s forehead creased with concern. “Of course. I’m sorry.”
“No, no, that’s fine. I just . . . I can’t . . . out here, you know?”
Ash gave me a thin smile. “Much easier for a man.”
“Yes, just point and aim.”
I’d spoken without thinking, but the realization that Ash had probably done exactly that, touching himself, made my cheeks burn with embarrassment.
“I’m sorry!”
But Ash smiled, one corner of his mouth turning up briefly.
“We have seen too much, I think, to be embarrassed with each other.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, but my memory flashed to Ash’s naked body suspended between the two thugs, his blood dripping onto the floor.
“I should call Dad,” I said, blinking rapidly.
“It’s very early,” Ash commented.
I looked at the car’s dashboard clock. It was 5:47AM.
“He’ll be awake now. Chicago is in a different time zone. I need to get to a phone—mine is dead.”
“What will you tell him?”
I looked up and met Ash’s eyes. I realized that they were lighter than I’d thought, hazel rather than chocolate—and very beautiful. I stuttered out my reply.
“Everything.”
Ash nodded but didn’t speak. He winced slightly as he climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the key to start the engine.
As we pulled out onto the road again, I glanced at him.
“You got sick.”
Ash’s shoulders stiffened. “Yes.”
He didn’t want to talk about whatever had caused it. I didn’t mention it again.
We drove another forty minutes and my bathroom needs became pressing. My bladder was so distended, I’d crossed my arms, legs and eyes. Luckily, my meds had kicked in and moving wasn’t quite so painful. When we approached a diner, Ash pulled over and parked.
Without being reminded, he lifted my wheelchair from the trunk and brought it to the door. Slowly, I eased myself into the chair, flopping down with a sigh as Ash bent down to fold out the footplates.
Something so simple took so much effort.
But I couldn’t help smiling as I saw Ash tugging the borrowed sweatpants lower on his hips, trying to make it so they weren’t flapping around his ankles. He glanced up and caught the amusement in my expression.
“I look ridiculous,” he pouted. “Like a clown.”
I laughed my first real laugh in what seemed like a lifetime.
He certainly wasn’t as put-together as usual. Dark scruff lined his cheeks and chin, giving him a rougher appearance, very different from his usual suave self.
His smile was reluctant, but it was there.
Then he shivered, and I wished I’d thought to get him something warmer to wear other than a thin t-shirt. We’d have to find a store soon.
He pushed me into the diner, and I watched the server’s hard expression soften as she took in the wheelchair. Yep, there was the look: pity.
Ash took me as far as the bathroom door, then hesitated.
“Can you . . . ?”