Firestorm - Ellie Masters Page 0,35
While, she shoves papers in my face, her attention zeroes in on Asher.
“I haven’t seen you around much, Ace. How’re you doing?”
“I’m good, Maggie.”
Fuck, he knows her name. And Ace?
That’s his nickname.
This woman knows Asher. Like, she know knows him on a level I don’t; a level which involves history, familiarity, and maybe more. My eyes pinch as I clutch my discharge paperwork to my chest.
“I missed your party. Maybe we can get together sometime?”
Did she ask him out? In front of me? This bitch has balls.
Why do I feel so damn possessive?
Asher shifts on the bed and takes my hand in his. His eyes are on Maggie as he lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses the backs of my knuckles.
“Maybe another time.”
Her gaze darts to our hands and she gives a little pout. “You always know where to find me, if you change your mind.” With those words, she pivots and marches out of the room.
I can’t help but clench my teeth.
A man like Asher, with his overbearing confidence and that smug smirk on his face, must have tons of women at his beck and call. I’m not his first, and I won’t be his last.
But, will I be his right now?
The way my mind is spiraling out of control, I feel a bit off kilter, and I’m angry. Fury floods my veins and it has nothing to do with flouncy Nurse Maggie. A deep-seated anger has been brewing in my gut for over a year and it’s about ready to explode.
I lost the man I loved.
Justin was supposed to be my forever.
Yet, the universe took him from me. All our love, hope, and dreams meant nothing. In the blink of an eye, I went from having it all to having nothing.
My heart pinches. Pain stabs through me. I remember why I walked away and rub my breastbone. It does nothing to ease the pain.
Live in the present. I need to remember my motto.
There are appointments with plastic surgery I need to keep, appointments with neurology for the concussion, and of course my primary care doctor needs to see me. Only he, or she, doesn’t exist.
I have no home of record.
The medications I need to get filled will get filled, but not by my pharmacist. I have no pharmacist. The things I need to watch out for are a long list of symptoms I’m going to ignore. They should prompt me to seek immediate medical attention but I don’t care. My doctors do. They’re concerned about the holes in my memory. Frankly, I’m happy for the holes. If they could somehow figure out a way to erase all my memories I’d be a much happier person.
I’d be happier because I wouldn’t remember that gut-wrenching sensation when I knew we were all going to die. I wouldn’t remember the pain, the smells, and the screams which were replaced by the worst silence I’d ever experienced. I wouldn’t remember the moment when they died and I lived.
“Evelyn? Are you okay?”
“I’m good.” I shake off the heavy feelings and plaster a fake smile on my face.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” I glance at the door. “Can we get out of here?”
He stands and offers his hand to help me out of the bed. When my feet hit the floor, sudden panic overwhelms me, because I’m not sure of my next step.
If I had my gear, I’d be on a trail, looking for the next campsite. But I have none of that, and I have no idea where I’m going to spend the night.
A throat clears at the door. “Excuse me, Evelyn Thornton?”
“That’s me.”
Why is a police detective asking about me?
“Hey, Grant, what’s up?” Asher’s smile is big. He takes a step forward and thrusts out his hand. The cop’s badge reads Grant Malone and he clears his throat as he shakes Asher’s hand.
Asher glances over his shoulder. His brows pinch together and his head swivels back to Grant. He takes a step to the side and places himself between me and Detective Malone.
“Sorry, Ace, but will you please stand aside.” Detective Malone’s tone is formal and devoid of emotion.
“Stand aside for what reason?” Asher’s entire body tenses.
The detective pins me with his hard gaze. “Miss Thornton, you’re under arrest—”
“Under arrest?” I reach for Asher. “Why am I under arrest?”
I’ve literally done nothing, unless this is about my revolver. California gun laws are a bit extreme, but I can’t imagine carrying a weapon without a permit is grounds for arrest.
“What’s this about, Grant?” Asher