Prescription for Miss Walker

At it happened, I was the in between stage. My cancer was not benign but certainly couldn't be ruled off as malignant. It could develop into something more at any time, apparently.

Therefore, I had to be careful. And surgery was not off the table, as it was the easiest way of determining how far the disease had spread and what we could do about it.

Doctor Spears gave me the whole of the talk as I tuned in intently. I didn't zone out once, even when we were in his box-sized office and Ash was standing right behind him, sexy as always.

I'd changed back into my own clothes, thankful to have that awful gown off. My skirts made me feel more comfortable than what that piece of cloth did.

Alison had also re-joined us at that point, Theo sleeping soundly in his pram.

"I want you to come back in seven days, alright? So, we can take more MRI's and CAT scans. We're going to do all in our power to help you through this time, Miss Walker." Doctor Spears wrote down in his journal then on a hospital sheet and handed it to me.

I took it with nimble fingers. I hadn't said a word since we'd come to this room.

We bid farewell and I was leaving the premises with Alison when I got a call back. Recognising the voice immediately, I stopped moving and looked around.

Ash had caught up to me, white coat floating behind him, like he'd just stepped out of some cheesy film flick.

I said to Alison I'd get her outside. She pursed her lips but didn't pry, exiting the building quieter than I'd ever heard her be so before.

I smiled at him awkwardly.

"Look, I'm not mad at you," He shrugged his shoulders, all innocent faced when I told him I didn't understand. "I made the choice. It's not going to happen again, but I wanted you to know."

I nodded. I guess this was a gesture of good faith on his part. So, I decided to take it.

"Have a good day, doctor."

"You too, Miss Walker."

Giving him a backhanded wave, I left that disgusting place behind me. As I was rounding the corner, I got a quick glimpse of Dr Spears clapping him on the shoulder and laughing.

I guess Ash did have friends -- yet here I was thinking he was too much of a jerk for people to stand him.
***

When I got inside the apartment complex, I noticed a body sitting on the ground outside my door. It was wide and muscular, dark and familiar, dressed in a simple black and red track suit.

"August?" I called out, startled even more so when his head picked up and revealed that it was indeed him.

"Perfect. You're here." He smiled as he got up. In no time, he became like a pillar to my stature.

"What are you doing here?" I placed my key in the door.

"I figured you might want support." He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, as I took the first step into the studio. "You know... for your cancer."

Mouth dropping open, I went to shut the door in his face, but his arm reached out and stopped it with no bother.

I kept pushing, as it looked like he wasn't even trying.

"I do not have cancer. Go away!"

He rolled his eyes. "My mother had it and she died. I think I know when someone is ill."

I quit pushing, but only for a second. One that was long enough that he could use to barge in. Soon, he was on the other side with me, leaning against it as I took to the wall.

I folded my arms, trying not to cough. Technically, he was trespassing, wasn't he?

"I've never slept with a dying woman before. How does it feel?"

"I feel like that's something you should tell me. " I said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "What are you expecting to do with this?"

He prowled along the lounge area, spreading books along the coffee table to get a better reading of titles and stopped at my bookcase, scrolling through the rest.

He returned his attention back to me, small grin on his face. The same kind children do when they see something they're unfamiliar with, but want to look a little closer at it anyway.

"Oh. Well, I thought you could use the support." He then tapped his temples. "I got the know-how."

"A dead mother from the same incurable disease does not make you an expert."

I immediately wanted to take it back, as he licked his lips thoroughly and refused to look at me any longer. I obviously disgusted him, which wouldn't surprise me, as I knew I spoke before I ever thought.

Giving up, he collapsed atop my sofa, stretching his legs out. I stared at the back of his head, contemplating what to do. I mean, it's not like I could kick him out when he was just offering me a helping hand. Sure, I could be cold, but I wasn't callous.

Shrugging out of my jacket and kicking off my shoes, I left them where they landed, as I rounded the couch and leaned down.

He didn't move to stop me, as I untied the double knots in his sneakers and lifted them up until his feet hung over the arm. Then, I climbed over and to the space between his body and the neck. Softly, gingerly, I placed a hand on his stomach and counted the short breaths and steady heartbeat.

I was strangely comforted when his arm fell and crushed me to his muscled form.

"Thank you." I said, snaking a hand to his and clasping around the knuckles. Our skin colors were in complete contrast but I never felt closer to family than with this man. If all time was collected between us, we only shared a rough ten hours together, but in that time I had learned more about him than I did myself.

His smile returned, and it was dazzling.

"Thank you." I repeated, as I scrunched his shirt in my fist and began to close my eyes -- and I actually meant it for the first time in a while.