The next morning, I woke only slightly groggy. The doctor at the urgent care didn’t suspect a concussion, but Asher continued to wake me every few hours through the night just to be sure.
My head did ache something fierce though, and a look in the mirror showed a nasty bruise on my forehead.
Asher stirred from where he’d piled a pillow and blanket on the floor. I’d offered to share the bed but ever since the diagnosis he had been treating me like I was made of glass.
I ignored him, just as I ignored the many unread messages on my phone. Everyone had checked in overnight: Aimee, Nicole, Nancy, even Irene. I didn’t want to talk to anyone until this was over.
I grabbed some clothes from my drawers and went to the communal bathroom down the hall to shower and change. When I returned, I
