Cinder To Ash (Tainted Hearts Book 3) Read online

  Copyright © 2015 AJ Summer

  All Rights Reserved

  This book may not be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please don’t participate in, or encourage piracy of copyrighted material in violation of the author’s rights. All the characters and storylines are the property of the author, and your support and respect is appreciated.

  All song title and lyrics quoted herein remain the property of the respective copyright holders.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover Design: Designed With Grace

  Cover Photo: Dollar Photo Club © Deviant Ft

  Editing/Proof Reading: Megan Keith

  (Author of the AMAZING Eraser Series)

  Dedication

  Playlist

  MIA – Prologue

  MIA – Day One

  MIA – Day Two

  MIA – Day Three

  MIA – Day Four

  MIA – Day Five

  MIA – Day Six

  JASE – Day One

  JASE – Day Two

  JASE – Day Three

  JASE – Day Four

  JASE – Day Five

  JASE – Day Six

  MIA – Day Seven

  END GAME

  MIDNIGHT

  Acknowledgements

  About the author

  To you, this one was a battle ... one we conquered in the end ... I guess it’s true stars shine the brightest when it’s dark...

  Mom, for loving my books as much as I do. And not giving me grief about all the swearing … and all the other stuff I should not be writing about.

  Waiting for Superman by Daughtry

  Words as Weapons by Seether

  Run by Snow Patrol

  Shit! I wake up with a start. Sweat forms in icy droplets on the nape of my neck. I blink a couple of times before I see Jenna sitting at the foot of my bed. Her blue eyes are wet with unshed tears.

  “Mia,” she sobs. Her whole body is trembling with tiny tremors.

  “Oh God, Aiden,” I sputter as I tumble, sheets and all out, of bed.

  I think of the fight last night. Maybe his head injury was worse than it looked. I look up at Jenna who hasn’t left my bed. I crawl over to her and take her face in my hands. “Jenna it will be okay, let’s go.” I stand up and head for my door, hoping she will follow me. She lifts her eyes to me. The sadness in those big blues promise to rip my heart from my chest.

  “No, Mia. It’s Jase. There was an accident,” she says, shaking her head slowly like she’s too afraid to say anything else. She takes a shallow breath, “I’m sorry Mew, but we have to go to the hospital. It’s bad. Really bad.”

  She finally gets up from my bed. But now I want her to stay away from me. Her and anything else that might come out of her mouth next. Holding my palm out as if some invisible power can stop her from coming closer. Stay away from me! My head is still stuck on her words. Blood rushes like rapids in my ears, threatening to explode my head.

  The hard floor digs into my knees as I collapse onto it. What? How? A million thoughts churn around in my brain. I just got him back. I just fucking got him back! Please don't let me lose him. I can't lose him! That mantra plays over and over in my head until Jenna reaches me. She sits down behind me, wrapping her arms around me. She gently rocks me from side to side. Holding me together in her arms. If she lets go, I will fly apart and splatter my walls with all this bloody fear inside of me.

  Swish-whoof, Swish-whoof - I match my breathing to the ventilator next to Jase's bed. In and out. Nice and slow. It takes a while but eventually my breathing evens out and I no longer feel like I’m about to pop a lung. The threatening panic subsiding with each deep breath filling my suffocating lungs.

  His doctor has been gradually reducing the daily Pentobarbital that's been keeping him in this coma. He should wake up any time now. Any time now just isn’t happening soon enough for me. Once the swelling on his brain had gone down, his doctor started toning it down on the sleepy drugs. They still can't determine if he'll be perfectly fine when he wakes up. But I don’t need perfect. I just need him.

  I smooth my hand over his chest, a body I know better than my own. Now it’s so different. It feels empty to me. I touch his face with my fingertips, terrified that I'll hurt him. Which is insane because Jase is fierce. Fierce damn it! Yet the bandage around his head hides the one tiny scar that caused all this trouble. A scar that proves he is just human. Fragile and so very breakable. Made of flesh and blood and good intentions, like most of us.

  My fingers drift to my lips and I think of our last kiss, four weeks ago. Now it feels like a lifetime has passed. I place my fingers against his pale cheek. His skin is warm and stubbly from the scruff growing on his jaw. What I wouldn't do to have him kiss me right now, to tell me everything is going to be okay. I need him to tell me everything is going to be okay. But the damn tube down his throat won't even allow me close to his lips. I'm impatient; he needs to wake up! I’m also very afraid that he won’t be the same man that left our home that morning. I’m petrified of the dark cloak of the unknown hovering above our heads.

  “Wake up, baby,” I murmur while stroking my fingers down his face. His fingers twitch, making the little web tattoo on his knuckle dance. A split second later, all his digits are calm, unmoving. The ‘Believe’ tattoo on his forefinger, a curse daring me to believe the very word is a lie. The black bird silent. My heart didn't even give the usual little jump it did in the beginning, when his fingers moved this time. After it happened the first time, the doctor deftly, and very clinically, explained that it’s just muscle twitches. Friggin' muscles twitches. Gah! How many of those have I seen already? Too damn many to count. The doctor also explained there's a good chance that Jase won't remember anything when he wakes up. Anything, including me. He’ll remember me. He has too.

  My panic returns full force and my heart hammers wildly in my chest. It’s kicking so hard against my ribs, I swear it’ll tunnel right through the bone. What if he doesn't remember me? What if? What if? NO! I get up from my chair on wobbly knees, reluctant to leave him even for a second. But I know if I stay here, I'm going to pass out from hyperventilation or worse die of a heart attack. It sure feels like I could have both right now. I just need a quick trip to the cafeteria for some coffee. I can be back in ten minutes. I need to clear my head of this oppressive room. With a last glance over my shoulder I slip from his room as quick as my legs will carry me.

  Nurses in blue uniform and doctors in white overcoats greet me as I pass them on my way to the express coffee machine. Four weeks at this hospital and I know most of their faces. I dig the change out of my jeans pocket and drop them into the coffee machine. I hear them clinking down the shoot and press the button for my coffee. Even the whir of the coffee machine working relaxes me slightly. I think listening to the ventilator in Jase’s room, accompanied by the different beeps is working on my nerves.

  The cup is frothy and steamy as I stir in my sugar on the way to the outside garden. Combine the sweet smell of caffeine and my craving for nicotine and I’m rushing to the sliding doors with a little dribble on my chin. Charming I know. I’m human. A human surviving on very little sleep I must add. But it has also been ages since I had a smoke. I slide the door closed and place my coffee on the table. Finally.

  I light my first cigarette since the doctor told me Jase might wake up today due to the lack of drugs in his system. That was twenty-four very long hours ago. I inhale deeply and blow out slowly. The grey smoke twirls gracefully bef
ore it disappears into the silent air around me. Bringing my cup to my lips I blow the steam off my coffee before taking a small sip. The soothing liquid hits my throat and I moan embarrassingly loud. Being cooped up in that room, waiting for him to wake up, worrying if he'll remember me, or if he'll have any other setbacks due to the injury his brain sustained, is driving me nuts! I just need to unwind for a second. My eyes fall closed as I absorb the quiet.

  “Ms Andrews, Ms Andrews,” a nurse calls from behind me.

  The sudden break in quiet scares the crap out of me. The cup slips from my fingers and the warm liquid spills all over the front of my shirt. “Shit!” I pull my wet shirt away from my body, careful not to burn myself with my cigarette. “Yeah?”

  “He's awake.”

  My body must catch on before my brain, because before I know it I’m throwing down my cup and cigarette and chasing after the nurse who is already on her way back to his room. I think half the female staff have a crush on my boy. Not that I blame them.

  Too soon, and not really prepared, I’m standing in front of his door watching his doctor shine a light in his eye. He really is awake. My whole body starts to shake, but refuses to move. There’s a plastic cup filled with ice in Jase's hand. And he looks perfect, so damn perfect that my heart kicks a little harder. All the way from here I can see there’s a smidgen of color back in his cheeks. Let me see your eyes…

  “Do you remember your name?” the doctor asks him. Jase gives a curt nod. “Can you tell me what it is?”

  I take a step into the room, anxious to hear his answer. Willing him to remember by sheer force of my own determination.

  “Mia.”

  I’m well aware that Jase just said my name and Doctor Martins seems equally confused, but then Jase shifts, placing all that intense focus solely on me. His charming smile almost knocks me on my ass. He saw me.

  “Mia, come here.” His arm lifts slowly and a heavy frown descends on his brow.

  Doctor Martins catches his reaction immediately.

  “You’ve been immobile for awhile. It’s expected. Nothing to worry about. Now, your name?”

  “Jase Lyle,” he grunts rudely, without taking his intense gaze off of me. That look would make angels do very wicked things.

  I fidget under his heavy stare, pulling on the oversized t-shirt that I’m wearing. Lewis dropped it off yesterday because I didn’t have any more clean clothes. Laundry isn’t something I’ve been worried about. Lewis keeps insisting I send my dirty clothes home with him, but I can’t do that. So instead they’ve been filling up my backpack in Jase’s hospital bathroom. Right now I feel very self aware with the big coffee stain still wet over my breasts.

  “Come here,” Jase calls again, and I can see it pains him to talk. I don’t hesitate this time and walk to the side of the bed. Jase rattles the ice around in his plastic cup before taking a cube and placing it in his mouth.

  “Your throat should be better by tomorrow. It’s just the after effects of the tube,” the nurse says from the other side of the bed where’s she adjusting the blood pressure cuff. She gives the readings to the doctor and he scribbles a few things down on his clipboard.

  Jase starts moving around on the bed. A heavy look of concentration pinches his face. It immediately turns my blood to ice. Something isn’t right. He pushes up on his arms as I reach for the remote to lift the bed. He looks like he’s trying to sit back, but he shouldn't be struggling like this.

  “My legs won’t move,” he grunts. He pushes up a few more times before pulling on the blanket covering him. “Fuck. What’s going on Doc?”

  Out of nowhere a tsunami of tears form in my eyes, flooding my vision. I guess I knew there might be complications, because let's face it, when it rains, someone always has to dump an extra bucket full over my head. But this, seeing it first hand – nothing could prepare me for the defeated look on his face.

  “Calm down, Mr. Lyle. This is not an uncommon occurrence. You've been in a coma for four weeks. The injury to your brain was quite severe. We’ll run some more tests in the morning and see how that goes. Now just try to get some rest,” the doctor says. Then he writes some more stuff on his clipboard before he calls the nurse to follow him out of the room.

  “I’ve been asleep for four weeks! How much more rest could I possibly fucking need!” he shouts at the retreating doctor.

  Jase starts yanking at the blankets again. Pulling the white comforter this way and that. This time with so much force that his face turns red and that angry vein, that always makes an appearance when he loses his temper, pops out on his forehead. Damn the friggin’ Lyle temper to hell!

  “Babe, lift these blankets off me,” he says, trying to get a look at his feet.

  “Why? You heard the doctor.”

  “I’m trying to move my toes, but I can’t feel anything.”

  My fingers pry helplessly at the white comforter clenched in his hands. More tears form and I shake my head. “Jase, let go of the blanket.”

  There’s definitely nothing wrong with his hands. I continue to pull on the blanket bunched up in his fingers, but it’s useless, it’s not going anywhere. The “believe” tattoo on his finger is squashed under the white comforter. The blackbird next to it, suffocated by the intense grip he has on the blanket. The black web looks ready to pop at the seams. I adore these three tattoos, of all his ink, they are my favorites but he needs to let go of this blanket!

  From this close I can see the little red veins in his eyes, the glossy look he gives me when he realizes I’m not going to help him. He shouldn’t be worried about this. If the doctor isn’t worried then I’m not worried, at least not yet. Because for now I'm holding onto hope. And it might be useless because hope has been so good to me in the past - yeah right. Look at when he held his arm out to me, it was shaky too, but now they seem to move just fine. Maybe his legs just need to wake up? I sniffle and wipe my nose with my hand. I’m a soppy mess.

  Jase leans towards me, wraps his arm as best he can around my waist and pulls me onto the bed. I go willingly because I don’t want him to exert himself anymore. And honestly, who needs more drama tonight? Not this girl. If all goes to shit and he can’t walk then there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than in his arms anyway. Hell I’d carry him up a mountain if I had to, but my boy is strong. He’ll get through this. He has to, because the Lyle temper won’t allow him any other way.

  I must have drifted off because when I wake up, the nurse is busy explaining to Jase how the test procedure will go that he is scheduled for in the morning. His face is resting softly on top of my head and I can feel his racy breath on my face. And by his clenched fists I can tell that he doesn’t want to wait until morning. I’m not sure how long I was asleep for but I don’t want to move either. I was so afraid of all the wires and tubes attached to him while he was under that I didn’t dare get too close to him. Now it’s just the IV still dangling from his hand, leaving more than enough room for cuddling so I’m sticking to him like a magnet. I lift my head and gently run my nose along his jaw, savoring his scent that not even the sterile hospital could strip away. He lifts his hand and runs it down my hair. It’s not missed by me with how much ease those limbs work now. If only his legs could do the same. The nurse leaves after writing whatever it is that they are always writing on that clipboard of theirs.

  “Where’s the remote for the bed? My back is cramping up,” Jase says, while looking around the room.

  “It’s just over here, on the bedside table.” I'm already moving up to get it. It’s not a far stretch, I don’t even have to lose contact with his body.

  “Wait, let me get it. It’s closer to my side anyway,” he says, angling his body away from me.

  I bite my lip, not wanting the blow out if he can’t reach it. I just nod because telling him no won’t help either. Jase isn’t a bad person, right now he feels like he has to prove something to himself. He’s scared, and that ... that scares the crap out of me. He leans over the side of the bed
, toward the remote a few inches away. I detangle my legs from his when I see that he won’t be able to reach it, hoping that will somehow help him make the stretch. The muscles in his lower back ripple and contort into delicious golden brown bumps as he stretches even further until his fingers finally snatch the little black device. He settles back into his pillow on a huge puff of air and immediately brings my head back to his chest. But not before I see the little droplets of sweat on his brow, or the darkness in his eyes. He switches the overhead TV on and reclines the bed until we are almost flat, before laying his hand on the back of my head.

  “I love you, Mew.”

  “I love you, too.”

  He spends the rest of the night peppering tiny kisses on my head while we watch action movies on the small hospital TV.

  I should have known it was just the quiet before the storm.

  No matter how calm the nurse looks bustling about Jase’s bed, it just seems chaotic in the ear-splitting silence of the room. She’s prepping him for his MRI and while I can see she’s perfectly calm on the outside, I can’t help but wonder if the brooding man in the centre of the bed is making her sweat under that blue jacket of hers. Because he is burning me up. My palms are clammy and my jaw hurts from grinding my teeth so hard this whole time. I wish this was all over with already. I want to take him home. Away from everything that is making him so damn despondent!

  His normal bright green eyes are filled with shadows and his face is drawn into a dark impassive mask. I woke up this morning to the sheet dangling messily over the thin hospital mattress. Jase must’ve thrown the comforter off during the night. He was just staring at his legs, at his still unmoving toes. I wisely kept my mouth shut until the nurse arrived. Grateful for the opportunity to move away from the ticking time bomb. I’ve settled myself in this corner and I haven’t moved since. Neither has he. The only sound in the room, that of her moving shoes on the squeaky clean floor. This Jase terrifies me, because he is closed off, unreachable, silent.