I followed a nurse’s directions down a bright hallway toward the patient rooms. As I neared Asher’s, a tall man stepped out.
Our eyes caught for a second. Alejandro gave me a tired smile. The stubble on his jaw was longer than last time, but otherwise he looked the same—expensive gray suit, expensive watch, his light brown hair carefully styled.
“Kaia,” he said. “I’m glad to see you. Despite the”—he sighed, gesturing toward the room—“circumstances.”
“How is he?”
Alejandro shoved his hands into his pockets. “He’s alive, and that’s what matters. The doctor says fractured clavicle, lung contusion. He’s weak and sleeping now, but it could’ve been much worse.”
Salty liquid slid down my throat. I swallowed hard, gratitude and fear tangling—thankful Asher was alive, terrified for him all the same.
Alejandro closed the space between us and rubbed my arm, his gaze soft. “I’ll be here. Go see him, yeah? He needs you.”
I stepped into Asher’s room. Tears streamed down my face as I faced his bed. An oxygen mask covered his mouth, monitors beeped steadily, and anxiety clawed at me.
He’s okay, I told myself as I moved closer.
“Hola, peque,” I whispered, slipping my clammy hand into his. “You scared me. I thought—” I swallowed a sob. “I thought I’d lose you. You have to get well. For me. For your dad—he’d hate to see you like this. You’re strong, Ash. You still need to race for a RevGlobe Grand Prix team. You’ve got so much ahead of you.”
I stroked his hand with my thumb, saying all the right, steady words. But the ones that mattered most pressed at my throat, begging to be spoken.
“I love you.” The confession tore out of me, everything I’d kept locked spilling free. “And I don’t care if it flushes decades of feminism down the drain. You hurt me, but I love you, and I hate that I do. I hate that I always will.”
Carefully, I released his fingers and leaned down, pressing my lips to his forehead. “Please, get well. Even if it’s not for me.”
My lips tingled from his skin, and my chest ached like I was the one with a lung injury. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.
The door opened. A nurse stepped inside, and with one last glance at him, I slipped out before she could ask me toleave.
More tears. More pain. I buried my face in my palms—until a heavy arm settled over my shoulders.
“Come on,” Alejandro whispered. “Let’s get some coffee. Who brought you here?”
“My friend.” My voice broke.
Under different circumstances, I would’ve hated that Asher’s friend saw me this way. But Alejandro was my only link to him now. I wanted to know why Asher had highsided. I wanted to know how he’d been since the breakup.
Alejandro led me to a waiting area with leather couches and a coffee machine in the corner. He fixed me a drink, and I sat beside him, clutching the paper cup in my cold hands.
“Do you know why the accident happened?” I asked.
He traced the rim of his cup with his finger. “It’s a high-risk sport. Accidents happen. More so when your head isn’t in the game.”
“His wasn’t?”
“I don’t know, Kaia. I wasn’t with him this morning, but Dawson thought he looked off.”
“He shouldn’t have let him race.”
Alejandro sighed. “Asher wouldn’t have listened. You know him better than anyone.”
I thought I did. Now I wasn’t sure. “He broke up with me last night,” I said.
Alejandro’s expression softened with pity. “I know.”
I sipped the hot, sweet coffee, willing my voice not to shake. “Don’t tell him I came. Please. I just want him to recover. He’s the person I…” To hell with it—nothing left to lose, no dignity to guard. “He’s the person I love most in the world, and I want him to get well. I want him to race for a team in Spain or wherever he chooses. Please, make that happen.”
Alejandro’s jaw worked like he was holding back words. “He’d be happy to know you were here.”
