Promise Me (Asher Family #1)

Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

SADIE

I hate starting my day with a headache. It hints that the entire day is going to be off-kilter.

This doesn’t bode well for me, considering I’m pretty sure the beating drum inside my head right now is the worst it’s ever been.

People probably won’t want to be around me today. A Sadie headache means a grumpy Sadie.

I flutter my eyes open, and a beep—the kind that reminds me of afternoons in the hospital with my mother—is all I hear.

I must have fallen asleep to another Grey’s Anatomy episode.

The smell hits me before my eyes are fully open.

I didn’t fall asleep to anything. Nope. I’m in an actual hospital.

I try to adjust the way I’m lying—I hate lying on my back—but the movement to my left catches my eye.

I freeze.

What’s Hudson Asher doing here?

Sleeping no less, right next to my hospital bed.

Yep .

Mine.

What the heck happened?

I clear my throat. The dryness causes me to make a rather unnatural noise, which stirs Hudson. When his gaze lands on mine, his shoulders relax, and then he moves to kneel beside me.

“Hey, you’re awake.”

I don’t do anything except nod because, again, what is he doing here? And why is he looking at me with a sleepy smile?

“Do you need anything?” he asks, now standing and looking down at me with … sincerity.

What the hell is happening?

I mean, I know that I planned to make amends with him when he came back to Lovers—if he ever came back to Lovers—but I feel really lost right now.

Shouldn’t he be preparing for his game this weekend?

What would he think if he knew that I enjoy watching his games? He’s a really good hockey player, and watching him is fun.

“Shit, Sadie. Can you even hear me?”

I snap my attention to him.

“Yes, why wouldn’t I?”

“Oh, thank fuck. I thought you couldn’t hear me, so you weren’t speaking.”

I bring my hand to my throat. “Some water would be nice.”

He’s quick, grabbing a cup from the table next to him and handing it to me, holding the straw from it to my mouth like I’m a kid who doesn’t know how to use it.

I let him do it, though, because, I mean, after everything he put me through growing up, damn right he should cater to me, even if I don’t know why he wants to.

“How do you feel?” he asks, grabbing his phone and typing as he talks to me.

“Fine. Shouldn’t you be at a game or something? ”

“What?”

“Sadie!” My brother rushes into the room, takes my hand, and kisses my forehead. “Thank God you’re awake. Are you okay? How do you feel?”

“I’d feel better if I knew what was going on. What could have possibly happened to bring the Hudson Asher all the way back to Lovers? Won’t your supermodel girlfriend miss you if you’re away for too long?”

Hudson clucks his tongue as he watches me. “So, you’re absolutely fine is what you mean,” he snaps.

I glance between him and my brother.

“What happened?” I’m getting a weird vibe here, and I don’t like it.

“What happened was you fell and hit your head. I found you, called an ambulance, and ensured you were cared for before I left. Yet you still act like I’m the devil himself and will take any opportunity to knock me down.”

“Jesus, Hud, she’s in a fucking hospital bed,” Linc says with a scowl. “Can you not right now?”

“That’s it? I fell and hit my head,” I ask, ignoring Hudson's full comment.

Years later and we pick back up right where we left off.

Yay.

I was a fool to think we could be adults and actually be friends one day.

“Yeah, Sadie, but that was two days ago,” Linc adds.

“Two days ago?” I ask, this time with more panic as I try to sit up. “But Mom's funeral is this weekend. What day is it? Did I miss it?”

Linc lets go of my hand and backs up as if I just slapped him. His eyes widen as he slowly looks at Hudson, who looks as white as the sheets in this room.

“What? Did I miss it?” I ask again .

Tears prick at my eyes. I can’t miss my own mother's funeral. I can’t.

It’s enough that her illness took so many moments from us for years, yet now something else is going to take the very last one I will get.

“I can’t breathe,” I say quickly, touching my chest. “I can’t … I can’t ….”

Linc rushes out of the room, screaming for a doctor, while Hudson moves to grab my other hand and hold it to his chest.

“Breathe with me. In. Out. Feel my chest as it moves.”

My eyes lock onto his as his words sink in.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Our gazes never break.

“That’s it. Good. Good. In. Out.”

My breathing falls back to normal just as Linc and a doctor rush into the room.

“I’m fine,” I say, my eyes still on Hudson. “Thank you.”

He nods, letting my hand go, and then slowly backs up to the door.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll give you all some space.”

He turns quickly, passing through the doorway just as my dad comes in.

I hate Hudson. I know I do, but right now, I wish he’d come back.

Whatever that breathing trick was, it instantly calmed me. He calmed it. By the look on my dad's and brother's faces, for the first time in my life, I think I need Hudson Asher.

Dissociate amnesia.

That’s what Dr. Hyde diagnosed me with. Apparently, there is more than one type of amnesia. He spouted off a bunch of mumbo jumbo—because holy heck, medical terminology is insane and completely overwhelming—about each of them, but in the end, memory loss is what they all have in common.

I hit my head hard enough to set myself back three years.

Three years.

Three.

To a time when I’d just lost my mom, when my plans to move out and start my own business went up in flames, and when I took over my mother's bakery.

These are all things that, according to my brother—you know, a total doctor who attended the University of Google—clearly caused stress in my life. Enough stress that my fall decided, “Hey, let’s go back to before it all started.”

The brain works in mysterious ways, and I hope that the sting of forgetting the last three years will go away sooner rather than later.

I curl up on my side in the hospital bed, the lights off as silent tears roll down my cheeks.

My dad showed me pictures of where I was clearly at my mom's funeral, but I don’t remember it.

Did I tell her I loved her one last time? Did I make sure Dad was okay with everything that day? Or did Linc cry? He’s an ugly crier. I hope I brought enough tissues for everyone.

“Hey, sis,” Linc says, slowly pushing the door open. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” I say quietly.

Instead of using the light switch, he opens one curtain a sliver to let in some daylight but not blind me.

“How are you doing?”

“Really. That’s that what you go with? ”

He groans and drops to the chair next to me. “I know. I’m sorry.”

We sit in silence for a moment.

“So, are you dating anyone?” I ask.

He gives a small, pathetic laugh.

“That’s what you pick?”

“Well,”—I toss my hands up—“I don’t want to talk about myself.”

The last time we did, I learned way too much. Three years of information to be exact. And all that did was leave me with questions.

I still live with Dad—okay, but I’m ready to live on my own. Or I was. I don’t know what changed.

I own Mom's bakery. I hate baking, but I love that Mom loved it, so I did it with her. Why would I take over if I don’t like it?

Hudson bought the space I scoped out for Sips and Stories, the name of the bookstore I wanted to open. Mimosas and a romance novel while sitting on a chair that feels like a cloud, yes, please.

Hudson also lives in the apartment above his bar, where I wanted to live.

Lovers Lodge was expanded, along with other places around town. Friends I went to school with are married with kids, and I?—

I choke on my next breath and cover my eyes.

“I hate that I don't remember anything.”

“I know. How can I help?”

“Stop telling me what I missed.”

“Okay.”

“Unless it’s important.”

“Got it.”

More silence .

“What if it’s a funny story I told you about a year ago where you laughed so hard you cried for a good thirty minutes? Would you want to hear it again?” Lincs asks. I can hear the hesitation in the question, but I also recognize that he’s attempting to cheer me up.

Although, in my case, can you?

I raise one brow as I look at him. “I’ll accept the story.”

“Perfect.” He claps and then rubs his hands together. “First, no, I’m not dating anyone, and no, I didn’t date anyone worth introducing to you in the last three years.”

I roll my eyes.

He smiles. “Okay, now, do you remember Mrs. Winters?”

“Oh god.” I cringe. “You mean the only teacher you ever fantasized about. Yes, why?”

“Hey, keep your voice down.” He chuckles nervously and then scoots his chair closer to the bed.

He proceeds to tell me about how she hired him and our dad to sell her house and how, when he went over there to take pictures, he discovered a sex dungeon complete with a swing. A swing that was currently busy holding Mr. Winters. Naked.

I might not start crying with laughter this time, but he does make me smile.

I need it because as soon as I remember again that I’ve forgotten about the last three years, my heart shatters once more.