Authors: Elena Matthews
As I make my way through my second beer, this time at a reasonable speed, I start to process my actions. God, the last time I fought like that was when I was about sixteen-years-old and my brothers, and I used to wrestle with each other. It was usually over shit like who was hogging the PlayStation longer than agreed, or who ate the last bag of potato chips. Living in a house with three angry and testosterone filled teenage boys, it became a daily ritual for my mom and dad to break our little fights up. Christopher would be left with a bloody nose, Tyler with a kick to the groin and usually myself with a dislocated shoulder. But never in my thirty-three years have I felt the kind of anger that has made me lose control to physical violence like I did today, to the extent that I could have easily killed a man. Maybe I should have...
I have no idea where my strength came from, but I just kept seeing him touch Ava, and I just lost it. I saw red and became somebody I didn’t even recognize. It was frightening.
Jesus, since the moment I have met her, my life has just turned upside down. The woman is driving me insane. Everything about her just consumes me, everything from her smell, her laugh, and those beautiful brown eyes. She is so damn perfect. I love her so much it physically hurts. I tried to stay away, especially when Sebastian came back for those two weeks. That pretty much gave me the wake-up call I needed. She wasn
’t mine, and she would never be mine. I was pretty much an asshole to her after that, but knowing how women usually respond to an asshole, I became one. I was angry, I was upset with her, so a lot of it came naturally, but there was never a moment that I didn’t hate myself for the way I spoke to her, for the way I just cut her out of my life. I was frustrated as hell, too. I couldn’t understand why the hell I was so upset with her in the first place.
I knew she had a boyfriend, I knew she was committed to him; hell, the woman just had his kid! But I could see the worry in her eyes. The same worry that all army wives and girlfriends have. She was so panicked with worry that she even collapsed with the stress of it, and immed
iately I hated the guy. He has this beautiful woman who cherishes the fucking ground he walks on and where the hell is he? In the middle of a fucking war zone. She just had her baby, thirteen weeks premature, and on top of the distress and absolute heartbreak of wondering if Lily-Mai would survive the first forty-eight hours of her life, she was also racked with worry, wondering if that was the day she would finally receive
the
phone call. The same call my own mother received only a couple of years ago. Every time I would call to check in before Christopher’s death, I’d always hear the panic in my mom’s voice when she would answer. She was always a nervous wreck, and I hated it. I felt guilty for not being around, for living thousands of miles away in Seattle, and there were a few times I told her I would pack up and come straight home, but like the fucking trooper she always is, she told me to stay and finish off my residency. She said I had worked too hard to throw it all away.
I hated seeing what it was doing to my mother, but seeing the same thing happening to Ava, I couldn
’t help but despise him. I might sound like a dick, but from where I’m standing it seems to be one of the most selfish things to bring onto a family. I’ve been there. I’ve witnessed the heartbreak. It’s brutal. Feelings
Despite
my dislike for Sebastian, I knew how much she loved him, but it didn’t stop me from falling head over heels in love with her. We become closer each day, and knowing how inappropriate it was, with a patient’s mother, it didn’t stop me. Since the very first moment I laid my eyes on her beautiful face, I knew I was a goner. I’m surprised I haven’t been reprimanded for my friendship with Ava yet because I haven’t done a very good job of hiding it. We have this incredible connection that it makes me forget all of my inhibitions. I even forget my own name most days. Just being in her presence is enough to throw me off balance.
Like I said, I tried to stay away from her, I even had a few one night stands just
to try and get her out of my system, but it didn’t work. I might have physically been with those other girls, but it was always Ava I was with.
Eventually, I couldn
’t stay away from her for any longer. It was on the day that I had to tell her Lily had gotten pneumonia that changed everything for me. Having her in my arms and sob the way she did, I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to look after her and take all her pain away.
I knew there was a lot going on in her life, she looked exhausted, her eyes looked hollow, and she was almost lifeless. I made a promise to myself that I would put the light back in her eyes, if only as a friend, despite my growing feelings for her. And I did...until she got that call on Friday.
So that pretty much leads me to this moment, picking at the label of my empty beer bottle with my blood covered hands. What a fucking mess.
Then I start to think of all of the times I have visualized making love to her, how it would feel to be buried deep inside of her, how amazing it would be to watch her
crumble to a million pieces around me, but not once did that compare to the real thing. She was so responsive to me, so eager, so damn turned on that I never expected her to react the way she did. It was like I physically repulsed her, and the way she couldn’t get away from me fast enough, it killed me. That intimate moment we experienced together was literally the best day of my life. It doesn’t get any better than that for me, but she obviously doesn’t feel the same way. I’m confused though because I saw the dazzle in her eyes, I saw the heated passion, a look of adoration and even a hint of love there somewhere. She liked it; she liked the way I made her feel. I know that for sure.
Fuck.
Why did I have to go and fall for the one woman who isn’t available? Why has everything got to be so damn complicated?
I decide I
’m not going to get any answers from an empty bottle of beer, so I set the bottle on the bar and make my way back upstairs. I quietly let myself in the room. I notice Ava is laid on the bed nearest to the door, and I can’t ignore how much that hurts, that she chose to sleep on the bed we didn’t have sex on.
I take my shoes off, leaving them by the door and tiptoe towards the bedside table to place my phone and wallet on the side, but I accidentally walk into the bed, stubbing my toe painfully. “Shit,” I hiss as I sit on the edge of the bed away from Ava, gripping hold of my toe to try and ease the throbbing. Completely forgetting
about my swollen knuckles, I let out another curse as the pain ricochets across my fists. It seems that now the adrenaline has evaporated, the pain of punching the shit out of Avery’s face has intensified. Shit.
“Ashton?” I hear a groggy whisper coming from Ava. I look up from my crouching position to see her sat up in bed, her hands rubbing against her eyes.
“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep. Shit,” I hiss out as a burning sensation stretches over my knuckles as I go to my pull my phone and wallet from out of my pocket. I blink as I adjust to the light that illuminates the room when Ava switches on the table lamp. I wince as I hear a gasp when she notices my bloody fists. She practically throws herself onto the bed beside me, gaping in horror at my bloody hands. “Ashton, what the hell? What’s happened?”
I barely give her a side-glance, shrugging my shoulders as if my blood-covered hands aren’t a big deal.
“Nothing,” I murmur sullenly. I look away from her and allow my eyes to fall onto the bed, following the lines of the crumpled bed sheets, my heartbeat racing just thinking about being inside her again.
“It su
re looks like something to me.” Then a second later I hear her voice pick up in a panic. “What did you do?”
I look up to her, noticing a look of realization dawning
on her. Immediately wanting to take that worried look off her face, I lie. “Not what you think, well not for the lack of trying anyway, I just had a run in with a brick wall, and as you can see…the wall won,” I say holding out my swollen hands, hoping she will buy it.
She gives me a saddened look, gazing intently at my hands.
“Those cuts look deep, you probably need stitches. Your knuckles might even be broken. Maybe we should go to the hospital and get them checked out.”
I shake my head immediately, not having the heart to tell her that the majority of the blood isn
’t actually mine. “No, I’ll be fine, it looks worse than it is.” Just for her benefit, I open and close my fists to show her I still have full movement in my hands, an indication of no broken bones. It hurts like hell though, and that is evident through my hiss of pain. “See? Not broken,” I say, smiling through a grimace.
She gives me a skeptical look, be
fore she seems to accept that I’m okay. “Okay, but we need to clean them up. Did you bring a first aid kit with you?”
I nod and point to the closet beside the bathr
oom. “Yes, it’s in my luggage.” I watch her intently as she pads over to the closet to retrieve the medical bag that I have a tendency to take everywhere with me. I am unable to take my eyes off her when she sits back down and starts rifling through the bag. She’s just so damn beautiful. I trace her entire face, immediately getting lost within the beauty of her…
“
Shit,” I hiss, momentarily being shaken out of my Ava bubble as a sharp sting cuts through my skin at the swipe of an alcohol wipe. God, I’m such a baby.
“
Sorry,” she murmurs. I almost chuckle as her face pales at the sight of the blood. She looks as if she might be seconds away from throwing up. With her back rod straight, she wipes at my hand as gently as possible, a little too gently, almost as if she is too scared to touch me. As I watch her face intently, I notice that the lines across her forehead wrinkle with frustration. “What were you thinking? You’re a doctor for Christ’s sake.”
I clench my eyes shut, so I don
’t have to witness her look of disappointment. I didn’t for one moment think of the consequences that this could have on my career. I have to use my hands for a living, they are my tools so to speak, but the moment the anger coursed through my veins, any rational thought, was erased. Even though my hands hurt like hell, I know there will be no permanent damage, but if they were badly injured, I would have lost my job, the one thing I have worked my entire adult life to build. I must admit it was a pretty stupid thing to do, but do I regret kicking the shit out of him? Hell no, and I would do it all again in a heartbeat if I had to. When it comes to Ava, there probably isn’t a thing on this earth I wouldn’t do for her. I’m probably insane for being so willing to fuck up my career for a woman that isn’t even mine and quite possibly never will be, but I can’t help the way I feel. To answer her question in simple terms; no, I wasn’t thinking. “I wasn’t.” I sigh as she reaches for a clean alcohol wipe, rips it open and begins to clean my other hand.
She is quiet as she intently wipes against
my bloody wound, and then in the quietest of whispers she says, “I’m sorry.”
“
Why?” I ask, baffled by her apology. She has absolutely nothing to be sorry about.
Keeping her eyes focused on my hand, she answers.
“Because it’s my fault you’re so angry, why you felt the need to punch a fucking wall. I shouldn’t have told you,” for a split second I notice her eyes flick to the bed before they return to my hand, “and
that
shouldn’t have happened.”
The way she describes what we did together as
‘that’
hurts in the most indescribable way but remembering the way she responded to me, the way her eyes flickered closed when I brought her to her first climax, then her second, I know it must be the guilt talking. She’s guilty because she thinks she has betrayed Sebastian, which, strictly speaking, is true but she can’t deny what we just shared together wasn’t amazing.
Placing the bloody wipe on the wet towel that was left on the bed from earlier on, she goes to grab something from the first aid bag, but I take hold of her wrists before she can go any further.
“Look at me,” I demand, softly. I watch as her throat constricts, taking a bracing gulp. She finally looks at me, but doesn’t quite meet my eyes and realizing this is probably the best I’m going to get from her, I go on.
“First of all, I’m glad you told me and secondly, was what we did so bad or is that just the guilt talking?” Her eyes widen at my question, while she bites subtly against the inside of her lip. That one tiny move has my mind in a spin. She is so damn sexy, and she doesn
’t even know it. She looks thoughtful for a moment, then suddenly her eyes turn from expressively concerned to turned on. The way her pupils dilate and the way her breath constricts, tells me everything I need to know.
“So it is just the guilt then?” She blinks unevenly as my question breaks her from her thoughts. She blushes uncomfortably as she gently pushes my hand away from hers, avoiding me at all costs as she searches for something in the first aid bag.
With an amused smile, I keep my eyes trained on her and watch as she pulls out a small tub of alcohol cream and gently applies it to my swollen knuckles. The way her gentle fingers trace across my skin, feels incredible. My body is on high alert, and if I’m not too careful, something a lot less subtle will be on high alert, too.
Once she has thoroughly covered every inch of my wounds with the cream, she screws the lid back in place and puts the tub of alcohol cream back inside the bag.
“Band aid?” she asks quietly, still not meeting my eyes.