Page 65 of Wicked Temptations
I did. Mostly because speaking required energy I didn’t have, but also because I didn’t trust myself not to say something dumb and push him away again.
Ash crouched in front of me, and I felt his hands smooth down my right calf, checking for any obvious protrusions. Broken bones.
I couldn’t bring myself to look. I didn’t want to see what damage I’d done to myself in my stupid, reckless bid for his attention.
My career. Oh god, my career.
Three seasons at Ridgeway. Three years of building my reputation, perfecting my character, making myself indispensable. The gigs I picked up out of season, and the lessons in gymnastics I taught for extra cash. I’d just thrown it away trying to make someone want me the way I needed to be wanted.
The medic team arrived in a rush of radios and equipment bags. They asked questions I only half heard. What happened? Where does it hurt? Can you move it?
I answered what I could—fell; right ankle; no—and Ash filled in the rest, talking about me like he didn’t hate me.
One of the medics knelt beside Ash and probed the injury. He wasn’t as gentle as Ash had been, and I hissed through my teeth, my vision whiting out at the edges.
He pulled back immediately, his expression professionally neutral in a way that told me nothing and everything at once.
“We need to get you X-rays,” he said.
X-rays meant bone damage.
Fuck.
Someone arrived wheeling a stretcher, which prompted the medics to discuss whether a wheelchair would be better for navigating the backstage corridors. I didn’t care which they used as long as it got me out of here, away from the staring eyes and the weight of my own spectacular failure.
Ash stepped back as they lifted me. Our eyes met for a fraction of a second. His expression was unreadable beneath the smeared paint and drying blood, but the concern and guilt in his eyes made my throat tighten.
For once, there was so much that I wanted to say.
Don’t. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t make me want you more than I already do.
But there were too many people, and the medics were already wheeling me away.
I caught one final glimpse of Ash standing alone in the tunnel, his hands hanging useless at his sides, before we rounded the corner and he disappeared from view.
I let the pain consume everything else, but even it couldn’t stop the spiraling mess of thoughts that circled through my head like vultures. What if my ankle was broken? What if I couldn’t perform? What if they replaced me?
What if I never get to touch him again?
Chapter 16
Ash
ThetunnelswallowedJudewhole.
One moment he was there, lying on that gurney with his face twisted in pain, and the next the medics wheeled him around the corner, leaving me standing in the corridor with my heart hammering against my ribs like it wanted out.
What the hell did I just do?
I stared at the space where he’d been, trying to make sense of the last ten minutes. The fight. The chase. The sickening sound of Jude hitting the ground and the way he’d crumpled like someone had cut his strings.
The look on his face when I’d tried to help him.
Don’t. Just fucking don’t.
But I had anyway, because what else was I supposed to do? Watch him writhe on the concrete while guests filmed it for their Instagram stories?
My hands were still shaking. I flexed them, trying to steady the tremor, but it wouldn’t quit. I was running high on adrenaline, or maybe even guilt.
