Page 41 of Guitars and Cages

“You ain’t; I’m taking you to the ER. I’ll call Morgan and tell him to take Rory back to the bar, ’cause I seriously doubt they are gonna release you tonight. But I won’t lie for you, Asher. I’m telling Morgan where you are, and I’m staying with you to make sure you don’t leave town.”

“He’ll come to the hospital,” I mumbled. It was getting harder to speak; I couldn’t even be sure he’d understand me.

“Good. You need someone to look after you; you’ve proven you can’t do it for yourself.”

“I don’t want him to hate me,” I whispered.

“He won’t,” Mark tried to assure me, but it sounded like his voice was coming from a long way off.

“He’ll tell my brothers, and they’ll hate me, too. They’re all I have left, even though I don’t deserve ‘em. I don’t want them to hate me; I’d rather be dead than have them hate me.”

I staggered, felt my legs give out, and then he was half-dragging, half-carrying me. I could hear my boots scraping on the sidewalk, but I couldn’t open my eyes to focus, there was too much spinning and tilting and twisting for that. I gagged, and he held me up as I puked, a riot of pain and bright lights exploding behind my eyes.

“Asher!”

He was yelling at me, but I couldn’t answer. My body shook and I couldn’t stop the darkness from claiming me.

Chapter Sixteen

Iwoke up slowly, strapped to a bed, restraints wrapped around my wrists. It was bright in the room, far brighter than it should have been when the last thing I remembered was the darkness of night. I blinked against the brightness, wishing I could pull a pillow over my eyes, but my arms were held firm. I turned my head and saw the bright sky through breaks between buildings, the city skyline glittering with the light bouncing off all those windows. I quickly looked away; then regretted moving my head so fast. The room spun as I closed my eyes, a wave of darkness surging up to greet me.

I was more careful when I woke again, blinking slow, glad it wasn’t so bright, though I didn’t dare look out the window to see what it was like outside. My wrists were still restrained, and to my left I could hear soft snoring. My first thought was that I’d been paid for some rough trade, but they rarely kept you around after they were done. Besides, the room didn’t look like any hotel or motel room I’d ever seen, and my left arm stung a bit and was harder to move than my right. I looked over carefully, and that’s when I saw three things: my hand in a cast, an IV in my arm, and Morgan passed out asleep in the chair beside the bed.

Great. I was in a hospital and it didn’t look like I was gonna be able to slip away. I rotated my right wrist, trying hard to be quiet, testing the restraints. They were tight, too tight; my wrist chafed as I tried to rotate it within the Velcro. It wouldn’t turn. I hated being held down, hated being confined. I wanted to fight, to struggle against the restraints that held me, but that would wake Morgan, and then there’d be hell to pay. Dammit, where the hell was Mark and why had he left me here when I’d told him what was gonna happen? Fuck my life; how was I gonna get out of this one?

I lifted my head; big mistake, the room spun again and my stomach clenched. I’m sure I would have vomited if there had been anything in my system to vomit. Morgan’s snores got a bit louder, and I rolled my eyes because this was too much. I almost found it funny; hell, it would have been nice to laugh. I wondered how long I’d been here; it had to be dark outside again, that or this place had some really heavy curtains, like the kind I’d been meaning to get for my room. I frowned then, thinking about my apartment, and Rory. If Morgan was here, where the hell was the kid? I knew I shouldn’t worry; Morgan would never have left him with someone untrustworthy, but still, I was worried. I guess I couldn’t help it; that damn kid had grown on me.

What a fuckin’ mess. I’d hoped to prove to Kimber that I could be responsible, that maybe some of those things she’d yelled at me were wrong. Not all of them; I never could erase them all, but some, there was a chance at fixing some, or at least I’d hoped there was. Now look at the mess I’d made. Rory would be fine, though, better than fine with Morgan. I’d always been. Those years when the old man was in jail and Morgan had stepped up around the ranch and house to keep things sane had been the best years of my life. Even Mom had been happy then, and stopped drinking and started paying attention to us again. I wish the old bastard hadn’t gotten out of prison; it’s not like he’d stayed out, anyway. He constantly bounced between jail and the rodeo, but he sure had made life hell when he was home.

I sighed, remembering the smell of leather and hay and horses, the feeling of riding on the back of Storm, my favorite pinto, and the times I’d sneak out to the barn to sleep. I remembered the last time my mother had hugged me. It was Mother’s Day and I’d been twelve and broke as hell, so I’d climbed a fence into a garden in town and picked her four pink roses, pricking my hands all to hell on those thorns. Her face had lit up when I’d brought them to her in the hospital, and she’d worried over my cut-up hands, hugged me, and told me she’d always love me.

I felt tears prick my eyes as I lay there remembering that day, wishing like hell she’d survived, but in the end, I guess she was in a better place. A far better place than here, anyway. Dad didn’t even wait until the funeral was over before fucking off for God knows where with the rodeo, leaving Alex to live with Michael, and me and Cole to live with Chase. I wished Morgan could have taken us, but at least he’d always been close by, always there, still making time for us even though he’d had troubles of his own back then. Troubles that had meant we weren’t able to live with him.

I watched him sleep, still afraid he was gonna yell at me, gonna hate me. I didn’t think I could handle that. I might be a bastard; hell, I made sure most people who met me walked away thinking I was, but deep down I hated how empty my life had become, and another lost friend would leave it emptier. God, this sucked, lying here with nothing but my thoughts and no way to lose myself in a distraction to chase them away.

I started to remember the last time I’d truly been happy, racin’ dirt bikes and working with the horses...and Gage. Gage had been a big part of that happiness, bigger than I’d ever known until I’d run away. We’d go to the movies and split a pizza over at McKay’s, with root-beer floats to wash it down. Then drive up to Wildcat Hills or over to Snake River Falls and camp out for the night, free for a little while to just be ourselves. I missed sitting around the campfire with him, and cooking breakfast over the flames—food always tasted better when it was cooked that way.

I’d had tons of meals cooked over flames like that since leaving home, camped out in campgrounds all over the country, the fees far easier to hustle up than the price of even a cheap motel room. It had never been the same, though, being out there alone, and I’d missed Gage and my brothers more and more with every passing mile and every passing night.

So many nights I’d wanted to run back home, beg forgiveness, tell the truth that was long overdue, but each night I made up excuses, until I finally pushed myself to stop thinking about them all together. Sometimes that worked...many times it failed. I’m such a coward.

Morgan snorted and jerked awake, and I flinched when his eyes landed on me, so I looked away. A little too fast. I had to close my eyes because the spinning started up again, though not nearly as bad as before.

“Asher,” Morgan’s worried voice called out to me, his hand on my shoulder. “Boy, don’t you fuckin’ dare pass out on me again.”

I took a few steadying breaths and waited until the bed stopped feeling like it was gonna slide out from under me; then I opened my eyes again, shocked at the concern in his voice. “I’m awake,” I croaked, voice dry, throat parched.

I felt his hand move, and then I heard water being poured into a plastic cup. I turned my head carefully, slowly, to see him reaching toward me. I flinched again, and he froze, eyes widening in surprise; for a moment, neither one of us moved.

He lifted the cup, gesturing toward me. “Do you want some water?”

“No,” I managed to croak out. Stubborn.

“How are you feeling?”

I lifted my arms a little, pulling at the restraints. “Stuck.”

“Considering what you did to yourself, the docs thought it would be safer to put those on.”

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