Page 12

ELEVEN

REBIRTH

HANDS DOWN: DASHBOARD CONFESSIONAL

ASH

T he harsh glare of the overhead lights makes it nearly impossible to open my eyes fully. The searing pain where a tube is being withdrawn from my throat, the insistent beeping of machines, and the overwhelming scent of bleach—all scream "hospital."

I can't recall the events leading to me being in the hospital, unable to move. A car accident? An attack? The details elude me. More troubling still, I have no sense of time—the day, the date, how long I've been here. Are the others alright? Are they even here with me?

A wave of nausea washes over me. My head throbs violently, like my brain is fucking hammering against my motherfucking skull. As I reach to touch it, an IV line snags on the bedrail, yanking the needle in my arm.

"Ahh," I gasp, the sound barely a whisper, my throat raw and burning.

A metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. A nurse, her face flushed with concern, rushes to my side, raising my bed to a semi-reclining position. She offers a cup of water, a gentle smile softening her features, her golden-brown eyes urging me to drink. I gratefully accept, the straw a welcome relief to my badly chapped lips.

"How's that, cutie?" she asks, her smile widening, her blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun that reminds me of Calista.

"Better," I croak, managing a weak smile as a rush of memories of the only girl I've ever loved floods my mind.

My eyes remain open, but my awareness drifts. I notice the hushed whispers of nurses and doctors in the corner, but their words are fucking lost to me, overshadowed by the comforting images in my head. The nurse continues to watch me, her smile unwavering, occasionally licking her lips in a gesture that feels both flirtatious and oddly comforting. Or maybe I'm just fucking hallucinating.

Leaning back against the pillow, I close my eyes, and the memories fucking hit me—fragments of the incident, a brutal reminder of my actions, sending a fresh wave of anxiety crashing over me. The machines shriek, their beeping frantic and piercing. The medical team swarms my bedside, their rapid-fire medical jargon incomprehensible. Then, a wave of warmth spreads through my shoulders, a numbing calm settling over me as my body relaxes.

"Welcome back, Ash," the doctor says, his smile visible beneath his mask. "How are you feeling?"

Disoriented and strangely euphoric from whatever medication they'd administered, I give a thumbs-up, gesturing for more water. The nurse hurries back, her posture somehow… accentuated, making it impossible to tear my gaze away from her huge tits as she pushes them out.

"Confused," I mumble, her proximity almost overwhelming.

She leans in, the straw brushing my lips, her own lips lingering near mine, and she licks them as she watches me take a drink. Her tits are practically in my face, and I can't fucking look away.

"Confused about what?" The doctor snaps his fingers to regain my attention, and the nurse, seemingly embarrassed, retreats. "You came in essentially lifeless from an overdose. After multiple seizures, we induced a medical coma to stabilize your organs and restore your breathing." He smiles, a somewhat self-satisfied expression.

The thought strikes me: What if I wanted to die?

A bleakness settles over me, hope and happiness draining away. My gaze drifts back to the nurse, a surge of anger rising within me. I sigh, wanting to just slam her against the wall and fuck her brains out. There's so much anger inside of me that I don't want to take it out on Cali; what if I kill her? The thought of unleashing it on Calista is unbearable—I don't want to hurt her. The idea of taking my rage out on a stranger, even risking killing them, feels… perversely preferable.

"I've contacted your friends," the doctor says, scribbling in my chart. "They've been incredibly worried. Your girlfriend has been here day and night for the past three weeks."

"When can I leave?" I ask, blatently ignoring his words.

"You'll be staying at least overnight, possibly longer for further tests. I know you want to go home, Mr. Moret?—"

"It's fucking Ash. Call me Ash," I interrupt, wincing at the sound of my father's name.

A shiver runs down my spine, my hands clammy; the machine's beeping escalating. The doctor places a hand on my shoulder, a gesture that feels both paternal and strangely alien.

"I understand you want to go home, Ash, but we need to ensure your safety. There are resources available?—"

"I don't need fucking drug classes, doc. It was an accident," I insist, unsure if I even believe myself.

He nods, a reassuring smile on his face, and leaves with the other nurses—all except the platinum blonde. She lingers, feigning the preparation of medication, a convenient excuse to remain in my room. When the door shuts and the voices in the hall get further away, the nurse comes over to my bedside, a loaded syringe and a smirk on her face as she sways her hips purposefully. I try to sit up, but only get so far; however, it's just enough to see the ass she's working with, jiggling in her tight red scrubs. I can already feel my dick getting hard, so I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that part of me still works.

"It's med time, handsome," she says softly, batting her long, obviously fake lashes.

Calista's are real...

"What is it?" I ask as she twists off the cap to the syringe and pops the plug on my IV port.

"A nice little dose of morphine and Valium." She winks, pushing the cold liquid into my IV, the coolness spreading through my veins immediately.

"Why morphine if I came in for an overdose?" I ask, mumbling, but not high enough to be nodding off.

"You've got a couple broken ribs from your seizures, I guess when you were held down, but anyway, it's for the pain. You should be feeling better now," she says, lingering by my bedside, gripping the bedrail with her perfect, manicured nails.

She's too fucking hot to be a nurse. Too dolled up and shit. But she's still fine as fuck, and all I can think about is fucking her.

"What's your name?" I ask, the light dancing like rays of sun in my eyes.

"Jo," she says, smiling, licking those thick lips once again.

The morphine and Valium hit me almost instantly, a wave of warmth washing over my anxieties. The sharp edges of my anger soften, replaced by a hazy contentment. Her presence, so close, so… available, becomes a comforting blanket.

I watch, mesmerized, as she meticulously cleans the IV site, her movements slow and deliberate, each touch sending a shiver down my spine. The scent of her perfume, a heady mix of something fruity and something..., fills my senses.

"You… you're fucking gorgeous... Jo," I manage, my voice thick with the medication.

She smiles, a slow, knowing smile that makes my heart pound. "Thank you, Ash," she purrs, her voice a low, husky whisper. She leans closer, her breath warm against my ear. "You're pretty cute yourself, even if you are a bit of a hot mess."

Her fingers brush against mine, lingering for a moment before she pulls away. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through me, a stark contrast to the dull ache in my ribs. I don't know if it's because I've been alone for three weeks or if she's really affecting me in some way. But it feels like I'm betraying Cali, and in a way I am. But if I'm going to unleash my anger, it just can't be on her. I'd never be able to live with myself if something happened to her because of me.

The room seems to fade, the beeping of the machines becoming a distant hum. It's just her and me, the world shrinking down to the space between us.

"I... I don't remember much," I confess, my voice barely audible. "The overdose… or whatever it was."

"It's okay," she says softly, her hand finding its way back to mine. "You don't have to remember. Just… rest."

Her touch is gentle, reassuring. The fear, the confusion—it all begins to recede, replaced by a strange, almost unsettling calm. But oddly enough, the anger is still there. I feel it stronger than ever. I close my eyes, the image of Cali's face—her impossibly perfect features, her knowing smile—imprinted on my eyelids.

The morphine pulls me under, a gentle tide carrying me away from the harsh reality of the hospital, the accident, the overdose. But even as sleep claims me, a nagging question remains: is this real, or is she just another hallucination, a figment of my drugged mind, a beautiful, dangerous distraction from the truth? The truth about what happened, and the truth about the woman who is now holding my hand.

With her other hand, she reaches beneath the hospital blanket and up the gown I'm wearing, wrapping her hand around my cock, already rock hard. My eyes fling open. Sleep isn't even a thought anymore. I grin, looking her dead in the eye.

"Don't be shy, Jo," I tease, putting the bedrail down and pushing the blanket off my lap. "You know you want to suck my dick, so what the fuck are you waiting for?" I ask, seriousness written all over my face, which she seems to respond to perfectly.

"I thought you'd never ask," she purrs, lowering her head to my lap while her soft hand fists my cock, sending chills through my body.

I try to push Calista to the back of my mind, but all of a sudden the door to my room opens and she rushes in... with Killian, Dominic, and Five behind her. Thank fuck Jo is quick on her feet and puts me back in place before they can see what was going on. She winks at me, licking her lips as she walks away, eyes on me the entire time.

"I'll be back in a few for vitals and another round of meds," she says, flashing me a subtle wink.

The second she leaves, I finally look at my friends, their eyes puffy and bloodshot from crying and getting high, dark circles and bruises around their eyes from lack of sleep and fighting.

They look like shit.

They look like shit, and it's all my fucking fault.

Cali comes running over to me first, throwing her body on top of mine, her familiar scent bringing me back to life a little more. But there's still that rage simmering within me that needs to be dealt with. Regardless, I hug her back, holding onto her tightly while my tears secretly fall into the back of her hair. I've missed her so fucking much.

"Ash, I'm so glad you're okay," she says, her voice cracking as she tries not to cry.

"Me too, Cali. Me too. I can't wait to come home with you guys." I smile, wiping my eyes while running my fingers through her hair.

"When can you leave this joint?" Dom asks, uncomfortable, looking around with a paleness to his face I rarely see.

"Doc said mostly likely tomorrow unless they gotta run more tests and shit. But fuck this shit, I'm ready to go," I huff, growing more and more anxious.

"Just listen to what they say, Ash. You were fucking dead there more than once, okay?" Dom snaps, obviously knowing something that I don't.

"Don't worry, man, I'm staying. I just can't wait to get home with you fuckers," I laugh, trying to bring a smile to his face. It doesn't work.

"We're just glad you're okay. We'll talk about what the fuck you were thinking when you're home and healed." Five snaps, smiling and trying to hide the hurt in his eyes.

It's not long before Jo knocks on the door to inform us that visiting hours are over since it was a special circumstance. I say goodbye to my friends, promising I'll see them soon, and promising Cali that I love her and I can't wait to be with her.

But the second they leave and Jo comes into my room, shutting the door and flipping off the lights behind her, I push the rational thoughts down deep, letting the troubling ones reign front and center. I know I'm making a big mistake, but it's a mistake worth making if it can save Calista's life.