Until November (Until, #1)(73)
“November!” Asher yells from inside the house. I can hear the worry in his voice and I know that he wants me in there, but I can’t leave my mom alone until Asher’s dad shows up.
“I'm okay! We’re okay!” I yell back, taking a shaky breath. The sound of a car coming up the drive is music to my ears. I watched Mr. James pull over the hill in his police cruiser, and for the first time since my mom showed up, I can feel that knot in my stomach disappear.
“No, No, No, No,” she starts chanting, her head thrashing back and forth on the ground. I can hear Asher yelling from inside the house and know that I need to go to him.
“Are you okay?” Mr. James asks, running up with his gun drawn and pointed at my mom.
“Yeah,” I say shakily. “Asher’s inside. He’s tied up. She made me tie him up,” I cry. The gun in my hand starts shaking. It feels like it weighs a hundred pounds.
Mr. James’ face is soft and full of worry when he holds out his hand to me. “Give me the gun, darlin’, and go untie my boy,” he says quietly. I hand him the gun and start stumbling my way into the house. My hip is killing me from where I fell on it. I open the door and see Asher on his knees. He has gotten the rope off of one of his ankles. His eyes come to me and he falls backwards onto the floor.
“Fuck,” he roars and I run over to him. I realize it would be easier to untie him if I had a knife, so I stumble into the kitchen then back to him. He rolls to his side and I cut the rope around his wrist. Before I can do anything else, his arms are around me. I didn’t even realize that I’m crying until he starts wiping away the tears running down my face. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers, rocking me back and forth. One hand is on the back of my head, holding me to his chest, and the other is on my stomach where our daughter is.
“I—was—s-s-so scared.” I sob. “Be...Beeasst saved me again.”
“Shhhh, it’s okay. You’re safe.” He repeats those words over and over into my ear.
I take my face out of Asher’s chest as Mr. James walks in with another officer. “We have her in th—” He looks down at us and his face pales. “Call a f*cking ambulance!” he shouts over his shoulder. I look down and see that Asher’s sweats have blood on them.
“Oh my God!” I cry. “You’re bleeding.” I try to get up. Asher’s face is as white as a ghost and he starts shaking his head, pulling me closer. “Let me go. We have to see where you’re hurt.”
“Not me, it’s not me.” His face is etched in worry. He picks me up and I start to squirm. Then I realize I feel wet between my legs.
“No,” I whisper, looking at Asher. “No,” I repeat, begging him to tell me that this is not happening. That I'm not bleeding.
“I'm taking her to the hospital. It will be faster if I drive her,” he says to his dad, but it feels like a dream. This cannot be happening.
“I'm driving. Get her in the cruiser,” Mr. James says quietly. I feel us moving but I'm numb. No tears, nothing. I don’t even know if I'm breathing. All I can think about is our daughter.
I hear the sound of beeping. My eyes flutter open. I can see the white of the hospital ceiling and everything that happened yesterday comes back to me. When I got here, my dad and grandmother arrived ten minutes later. He was ready to go down to the local jail and kill my mother. My cousins and uncle had to physically restrain him so he didn’t get arrested. The police still had to come in to take our statements, but from what I understand from Asher’s dad, my mom had been trying to find a way to get the money my grandparents left for a very long time. My ex-fiancé was her boy toy long before I met him. She said they had been sleeping together for two years when she came up with the plan that he would date me, get me to fall in love with him, ask me to marry him, then something else. She didn’t say what that something was, but it would happen to me. He would get the money and they would start a life together. Unfortunately for her, that plan fell through when I found out they were sleeping together.
Apparently, my grandparents left strict instructions that, if I was to die before I had any heirs, the money was to be donated to different charitable organizations. My mother had been scheming for a long time trying to get me out of the way. I guess she was on a roll during her questioning, and told the police that she set up the attack that happened to me in New York with the hopes that I would be left in a coma when it came time for me to receive my inheritance.
She figured that if I was in a coma, she would automatically be granted power of attorney and would have access to the money when it became available. Then she could transfer it to herself. She also admitted that she sent the flowers to me and paid the kid who dropped them off a few hundred dollars to get my signature on the transfer papers that she took to the lawyer.
I move my head to the side and look over to where Asher is asleep. He always looks peaceful in his sleep. His mom brought him another pair of sweats yesterday when she showed up, so he could get out of the one’s that were covered in my blood. His ankle is crossed over his fleece covered knee. He has on a black thermal that is so tight, I can make out every detail of his chest. His hands are intertwined and laying on his abs. His sleeves are pushed up, the tattoos on his arm on full display. His jaw is darker than normal. He never shaves over the weekends. He worked from home yesterday, so he’s extra scruffy.