Page 192 of Forgotten Prejudice

So yes, hate me, Kai, because in our case, it’s better than love.

Soren

Today was the third time I’d come to the hospital with the intention of seeing Ashton. However, on the two other occasions, I didn’t manage to get to his room and instead went straight back to my car.

On my first visit, my clothes made me doubt my decision. I know, pathetic, isn’t it? Somehow, I decided to wear a bright blue shirt, hoping it would make Ashton see I’d changed and was a man he was capable of relying on. But once I reached the hospital’s parking lot, I was struck by self-awareness and realized blue made me look like an idiot. Needless to say, I drove straight back home. The second day, I made sure to wear black, so my clothes weren’t an issue. But as I reached his floor, I was shocked by the number of people waiting outside Ashton’s room. It somehow scared me, and I snuck out of there, hoping no one had noticed me.

Now, the halls were clear, and while my shirt was eggshell and not white, it was still good enough to keep my mind at ease. Prepared for my final judgment, I knocked on his room door.

“Come in,” he said, those two words enough to make my heart race.

Not falling into the temptation of counting the seconds passing on my watch, I forced my hand down and pushed the door open. I wasn’t even sure what made me this nervous, but the second Ashton’s brilliant eyes met mine, I felt alive again.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.” He smiled warmly. “Are those for me?”

It took me a second to remember that I’d brought flowers. “Y-Yes,” I stammered, moving to place them on the table, where dozens of other bouquets were placed. “Although, maybe I should have gone for something else.”

“Why? The flowers you picked are beautiful, and besides, I’m just glad you’re here.”

“You are?” I frowned, and he chuckled.

“Why are you this nervous?”

After putting the flowers down, I sat on the chair beside his bed. “I actually don’t know.” I rubbed my knees, annoyed that my pants rose and now my socks were showing.

“Hey,” Ashton whispered, and I gazed up at him. “I like the shirt.” He pinched the fabric.

“It’s eggshell.”

His smile grew. “I know.”

“Weren’t you supposed to go back to NYC?” he questioned, one brow raised with a bratty suspicion.

“As if I could be anywhere else on this planet while you’re here,” I muttered, well aware of how cheesy I sounded.

“You’re cute.”

“Please, Ashton. I’m nearly forty; I doubt calling me cute is appropriate at this age.”

He snorted. “That’s even cuter.”

I side-eyed him and was immediately struck by his glowing beauty. A beauty I was mere seconds away from losing. And the cast on his arm was just another reminder of that.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” I whispered, my voice choking and my body turning cold while remembering those dreadful seconds.

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

“Never do it again.” Adjusting my glasses higher on my nose, I realized I was asking the impossible from him. “Or, at the very least, take me with you the next time.”

He laughed. “You don’t surf.”

“Then teach me,” I urged, leaning closer. “Teach me so I’ll be able to save you in times of need.”

His jaw nearly dropped, and he stared at me for a long moment before he snapped out of it. “O-Okay. I will teach you how to surf. But you know, there’s no waves in NYC.”

“Luckily, there’s plenty in California.”

Now it was his turn to side-eye me. “Does that mean that you’re staying?”