Page 10 of Her Ohio Old Flame

But she couldn’t. She mustn’t. Some things were better left buried.

“You need to take care of yourself, too.” Zane cut through her spiraling thoughts, gentle but firm.

Asha jerked up her head, scowling at him. “I’m fine,” she snapped, sharp enough to deflect the concern in his eyes.

“You’re not fine.” He stepped closer. He spoke softly, but his words didn’t lose their weight. “Your dad’s gonna need you when he wakes up, and your mom will need you even more when she’s out of surgery. But you won’t be much help to either of them if you’re running on empty.”

She turned away her head, fixing her gaze on the monitor beside her dad’s bed. “I can handle it,” she muttered, her jaw tightening.

“I know you can,” he said, quieter now, closer. “You’ve been handling it your whole life, Asha, but you don’t have to do it all right now. Let someone take care of you for once.”

Her throat tightened, and she blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears that were welling fall. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t let him see the cracks widening in her armor. The warmth in his voice, the quiet reassurance, made something inside her want to crumble. To lean on him, for only a second.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Because if she did, she might not be able to stop.

Chapter Five

Zane leaned against the wall near Harold’s hospital bed, arms crossed over his chest and looked between Asha and her father. Harold was still asleep, his chest rising and falling in time with the soft whoosh of the oxygen flow, steady and reassuring. The lines of worry that had etched themselves deep into Asha’s face hadn’t eased, though she sat statue still in the chair beside the bed.

He wanted to order her to get some rest or maybe eat first. He wanted?—

The door swung open, and a man in scrubs stepped in. Zane straightened. The man looked to be about ten years older than Zane, his scrubs faintly creased from fresh laundry. His hair was still damp, as though he’d rinsed off after a long shift. The alertness in his eyes, despite the dark shadows beneath them, reminded Zane of a firefighter who’d just come off a blaze but was still running on adrenaline.

“Good evening,” the doctor began as he shifted his gaze between Zane and Asha. “I’m Dr. Reid. I just finished surgery on Mrs. Williams.”

Asha sat up straighter, the tension in her frame coiling tighter. “How is she?” she asked, quieter than usual.

Dr. Reid offered a reassuring nod. “The procedure went well. The hip was badly fractured, but we’ve stabilized it with screws and a plate. She’s going to need several weeks of rest, followed by physical therapy. It’s a long recovery, but the prognosis is good.”

Asha let out a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping in visible relief. “Thank you.”

Zane watched as her father stirred, his eyelids fluttering open. He blinked groggily, his focus slowly landing on Asha. “Your mom…” he rasped weakly.

“She’s okay, Dad.” Asha leaned closer. “The surgery went well. She’s in recovery now.”

Mr. Williams exhaled heavily, a hint of relief softening his lined features. He shifted his gaze toward Zane, his expression grateful but weary. “You… you saved us. Thank you.”

Zane shook his head, stepping forward. “Just doing my job, Mr. Williams. I’m glad you’re both going to be okay.”

Dr. Reid stepped forward and addressed Asha. “You should get some rest, too. It’s been a long day, and you won’t do anyone any good if you wear yourself out.”

Asha nodded, though her posture remained stiff. The doctor gave a polite nod to Zane before departing and leaving the room bathed in quiet stillness. Mr. Williams’s eyes drifted shut again, exhaustion quickly overtaking him.

Even with the dark circles under her eyes and the weariness tugging at her features, she was beautiful. But not in the way he remembered. Back then, she’d been all soft curves and easy laughter, her presence like sunlight—warm and steady. Now, the girl he’d loved had become a woman carved by experience and responsibility.

Her golden-brown skin still glowed, and those big, intelligent eyes—deep brown and always too knowing—held the samesharpness he remembered. But now they were shadowed with something heavier. Exhaustion. Worry. The weight of holding too much for too long.

Her once-round cheeks had slimmed with age and stress, giving her face more contour, but there was still nothing harsh about her—except the way she wore her clothes. The tailored business suit clung to her like armor, clean lines and crisp edges trying to hold everything else in place.

“You need to eat,” he said.

Asha frowned, shaking her head. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” he countered, drawing closer. “When was the last time you ate?”

Her brow furrowed, and she opened her mouth to respond, only to falter. She glanced away, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I… I don’t remember.”

Zane let out a low sigh, his hands settling on his hips. “It’s just like the old days.” He shook his head. “When you were cramming for a test and forgot to eat. You still have to take care of yourself, Asha. Come on, let’s go to the cafeteria.”

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