[Insider Exclusive] Newlywed's New Desires Ch. 22 Sneak Peek (Patreon)

Hey friends! Making a ton of progress on Newlyweds so I thought I'd have some fun and publish the first half of the chapter now. Full warning, there's no sex yet so don't get too excited :)

I have some travel plans this weekend so not sure how much more I'll get done before Monday. The hope is to have the rest of the chapter ready for you all by the end of next week at the latest. Enjoy!

"This entire thing is a shitshow," Clayton's dad raged from the other end of the line.

After Chris's visit earlier in the week Clayton had no choice but to tell his father. They'd talked nearly every day since, always the same argument. Clayton would accuse Tom of being a neanderthal who was risking the operation. His dad saying it was Clayton that was the problem.

Clayton swept the living room for what felt like the tenth time with an RF detector, barely listening as his father listed why he was a failure.

"If you paid half as much attention to the job instead of chasing that whore around."

Clayton's jaw clenched as he blocked out his dad's veiled threats. The call should have happened in the office where he could record it. Instead, he flipped the cushion on his leather sofa and scanned for bugs. Clean, just like every other time he'd checked.

"Tom's a liability," Clayton said once his father took a breath from cursing at him. "He's the one who got shitfaced in Seattle and basically laid the entire plan out to Chris. If he'd—"

"You should have been there! But instead you were here playing house with another man's wife. I swear this woman is more expensive than the whore I bought to take your virginity and that was..."

Clayton stopped listening again, moving into the kitchen to do another scan. If Chris wasn't there to plant a bug, then why did he show up? There was no way he actually wanted to be a part of this, which meant he needed access to something. But he hadn't been anywhere else in the house.

Pain spiked behind Clayton's eyes. He poured himself a shot, knocked it back. Poured another. His father's voice continued to boom through the speaker, something about being a disappointment. The same speech he'd heard since he was twelve.

If Chris had been wearing a wire, the feds would have moved already. Clayton had been careful that night, he didn't remember saying anything incriminating. So why the visit? What was Chris actually after?

The question gnawed at him, unanswered.

"And that's why we've accelerated the timeline. Your feelings for her have complicated everything."

Clayton froze mid-sweep, the RF detector humming uselessly in his hand. "Wait, what?"

He grabbed the phone off the counter. The whiskey burned in his chest, heat spreading through him.

"You heard me," his father said, more condescending than ever. "This little game of house you're playing ends. Tom will be there in two days. See to it that you and your little whore are on a plane back to Seattle with him when he leaves."

The walls of his kitchen pressed closer. Two days wasn't enough time. He still had so much he wanted to do. He closed his eyes, remembering the last time Ashley was there. He'd nearly convinced her to stay the night.

"But the board vote isn't for another—"

"Jesus Christ, son. Have you been listening to anything I've said?" His father's voice cracked with frustration. "The FBI is planning arrests. You need to see to it that it's not you."

The line went dead before Clayton could respond.

He stood in his kitchen, RF detector still in hand, staring at the phone. The silence his father left behind felt heavier than the shouting.

Two days.

The detector's hum filled the kitchen. His breath came faster, his grip on the device tight enough the plastic creaked. When had he lost control? After all he'd done, why didn't his own father trust him to make the call on when this should happen? Instead he sided with Tom, always. Tom had grown from being a thorn in his side to an outright liability, and still his father took the man's side.

Fine. They wanted to accelerate the timeline? He'd accelerate.

He scrolled through his contacts, looking for Ashley's name. His thumb pausing on her name, before scrolling past to Katie's, a plan starting to develop.

The last time they'd spoken Katie had said she knew Chris hadn't actually set her up. Yet, he watched their interactions in the office, she was still icing him out. He could use that. He and Katie had always had an... understanding when it came to one another. He'd made her the successful saleswoman she was. Trained her to be just as ruthless as he was, and the sex... Other than Ashley, Katie was in a class all her own.

He stared at the screen, the blinking cursor taunting him. If he reached out, she'd know it was just a booty call. Maybe that was okay, after all she never seemed to mind before. But after what happened in Seattle he needed to be a little less obvious about his intensions.

He'd just promoted her to VP. Technically it was Chris who pushed for it, but she didn't need to know the details. Maybe he'd have her come over for dinner to celebrate? No, that was too obvious.

Katie was smart enough to read between the lines. Maybe he'd be direct. She knew what this relation was, there was no reason for him to beat around the bush. As he pondered his options, he moved back into the living room. What if he was right, and Chris was anxious because he knew he was losing Ashley. A smile formed on his lips as he typed out his message to Katie and pressed send.

***

The bath water had gone from scalding to tepid in the hour Katie had been lying there. She topped off her wine glass without sitting up, red liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim as she settled back against the porcelain. Her third glass. Or fourth. She'd stopped counting around the same time she'd stopped pretending the heat in her chest was just from the alcohol.

Her phone sat on the folded towel beside the tub, screen facing up. Taunting her.

Since returning from Seattle a few days ago, Tom had made it a habit of texting her through out the day. She tried to blow it off at first, he was just a needy client who wanted to know every detail of every decision being made. But the professional nature of his messages would go out the window the later the day got, and it wasn't long before she had gotten her first unsolicited dick pic.

The first time it happened, she was still sitting in the office, Chris just a few feet from her. She audibly gasped when the picture came in, her cheeks must have turned ten different shades of red. Chris had asked her if she was alright, but they still weren't on speaking terms, not really. So she'd just stuffed her phone into her bag and rushed out the door.

The next day, Tom had acted like it never happened, but the messages continued. Then, on her drive home, she'd gotten another pic. That time, she'd typed out an angry message telling him how inappropriate it was and that he needed to stop. But by the time she'd gotten home and read it again, she'd deleted the message. Not wanting to cause a stir with such an influence client so quickly.

Her phone chimed on the folded towel. She didn't need to look at the screen to know it was from Tom. His pattern had become predictable. Her fingers tightened around the stem of the wine glass as her phone chimed again. For a second, she let herself wonder what would happen if she brought the complaint to Chris or Clayton. Would they even care? Clayton certainly wouldn't. He would tell her to play the game. Lean into it and find a way to turn it into a bigger sell.

She reached for the phone with her free hand, dripping water onto the screen from her wrist. As expected, there was a picture message waiting for her. Her pulse quickened as she stared at the preview on her screen, her fingers shaking as she contemplated opening the message.

Images from her night with Tom flooded her mind, a warm tingle settling between her thighs. She blamed the wine. It was easier than admitting to herself that she didn't completely hate her time with Tom.

She chewed on her bottom lip as she enlarged the picture. Tom's hand was wrapped around the base of his shaft. It was thick, menacing in a way that made her mouth water.

Heat crawled up her neck as she remembered what it felt like the first time it was inside her. The way Tom had made her guide it in herself. She set the wine glass on the tub's edge before she could drop it, and moved that hand into the warm water, her fingertips brushing her inner thigh.

This was a bad idea, she knew that. Not only was Tom a client, he was a predator who wouldn't take no for an answer once she let this game begin. But that didn't matter to her right now. Her stomach coiled in anticipation as her fingers drifted closer to her lips, her eyes began to flutter closed when her phone dinged again in her hand.

Tom: You can't tell me you haven't thought about it. I certainly have. Once you finally learned to address me properly your body came alive. You were soaked and I hadn't even touched you yet.

Her thighs clenched, the water was suddenly scalding again. She hated how right he was. She couldn't remember a time she was so turned on without any type of foreplay.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she started to thumb out a reply. Her free hand digging into her upper thigh, denying herself the pleasure of sliding it over her clit, just like Tom had done that night.

Katie: This is a very inappropriate thing to be texting someone who works on your account... sir.

The moment she sent it, she wished she didn't. She held her breath waiting for his reply. Her nails threatening to break the skin on her thigh as she desperately tried to maintain the self-control to not touch herself. She didn't have to wait long.

Tom: Such a good girl remembering how to properly address me. I think you deserve a reward. Don't you?

The phrase sent electricity through her. Her face flushed hot. Her nipples taut diamonds peaking out of the surface of the water. Her hips jerked up in the water, desperately seeking contact with her fingers.

Katie: And what do I get for being...

A new message appeared while she was typing. This one from Clayton. Her brow furrowed. He never messaged her this late, unless...

A new wave of endorphins rushed through her. Clayton was the safer option... the better option. She swallowed the lump in her throat, and swiped away from Tom's message, pulling up Clayton's instead.

Clayton: I never got a chance to formally congratulate you on the promotion.

The fingers digging into her thigh loosened, briefly. Her mind was still on sex, and it was easy to read more into this message than intended. She took a deep breath, grounding herself before responding.

Katie: Thanks. Still processing it all.

Clayton: I'd say you more than earned it. Let's do dinner at my house tomorrow. I have something special planned.

Katie chewed on her bottom lip, trying to interpret the meaning of his words. Her fingers ran in a circular pattern along her thigh, not allowing her arousal to die down completely.

Katie: Special?

Clayton: Let's just say I want to see first hand exactly how you graduated with honors.

Her eyes went wide as she read the message twice. Her finger drifted to her already swollen clit, applying just enough pressure to take the edge off as she let out a soft moan.

Katie: Clayton...

Clayton: Tomorrow, 8pm. Bring your appetite.

A second finger joined the first, circling her clit with greater speed. He couldn't be serious. She needed to ask more questions, to tell him this was crazy. But her body was in control now. She'd denied her release for too long.

A moan escaped her lips as her finger parted her lips. Her hand trembled as she typed out her next message.

Katie: What should I wear?

Her hips jerked in time with her hand, a second finger joining the first inside her fiery depths.

_Clayton: Something that's easy to take off.

Katie rolled her eyes even as heat spread through her chest. She tossed the phone back onto the towel, her hand going to her chest and pinching her nipple as her eyes closed envisioning the scene tomorrow night. Her moans echoed off the tiled walls as she brought herself to the climax she'd been denying.

As her breathing returned to normal, a smile formed on her lips, her body still buzzing from the aftershocks of her orgasm. She knew going to see Clayton tomorrow was stupid, but not as stupid as whatever she was about to initiate with Tom. She picked her phone back up, pulling up his thread to see that he had texted another 4 times.

Katie: I think we should keep our communication focused on the Larken account. Let me know if you need anything work-related.

She hit send before she could second-guess it and sank back into the cooling water.

***

Ashley sat in the parking lot of the hospital as the sun began to set, her eyes red and puffy.

"There's nothing else we can do." Chris's voice filled the car through the speaker. He sounded tired, and slightly drunk.

It had been this way since he got back from Seattle, the last night they made love.

"But there is. Let me go over there I can talk him and—"

"You mean fuck him."

The accusation tore a hole through her chest, and she sniffled into the phone. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe, couldn't get air past the constriction in her throat.

"I told you already. This is my cross to bear, not yours. I don't want you getting any more involved."

"I'm already involved, Chris. Why can't you accept that?"

Her jaw clenched. They'd had this same argument three times already. Every night since he'd been back. He was pulling away. Not just from the reality of the situation, but from Ashley. Her hands shook as they gripped the steering wheel. Her ring catching the reflection of the fading sun and sparkling with faded dreams.

"I think I've accepted a whole hell of a lot, Ashley. But when you go behind my back while I'm out of town to fuck my boss it becomes a whole lot harder to accept."

"It's not that simple." She kept her voice level, she didn't want him to know she was crying. "I didn't do anything we hadn't already done."

Chris laughed on the other end of the phone. It was a bitter laugh, one she'd never heard before and it made her stomach knot.

"The voicemail that plays on an endless loop in my head suggest otherwise."

"I told you, I didn't know he was going to send that."

"Yet, you said it anyway." There was a pause. "You told another man he owned your pussy."

Heat flooded Ashley's face, resting her forehead on the wheel to hide her embarrassment. "It was just sex talk. I didn't mean it." She took a breath, she hadn't expected this conversation to be so difficult. Her shift started in 10 minutes, she needed to wrap it up so she'd have time to look presentable before going in.

"None of that matters right now," she said, determined. "What matters is that I go back there and—"

"It always comes back to that, doesn't it? You finding an excuse to go back and see him."

Her stomach twisted. "That's not fair."

"On that we agree."

"Chris, I just want—"

"Why are we even talking about this? You made it pretty clear when I was in Seattle my opinion on this didn't really matter."

"It's not like that and you know it." She was screaming now, tears streaking down her face as she fought to contain her emotions. "It's just... complicated."

Another pause. Longer this time. When he spoke again, his voice had gone cold.

"Because you told him you loved him."

The color in Ashley's face drained and the world stopped. A bomb detonated in her chest as she closed her eyes and replayed the night at Clayton's. Everything had happened so fast. One minute she was in his office, performing for Tom. The next, she was in his bedroom, her nails digging into his chest, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust up into her. The feeling of him stretching her, filling her, hitting places that made her vision white out. He'd said so many things to her in that moment. Asked her how his cock felt buried inside her, if she loved the way he was able to hit places Chris couldn't. Telling her to say it, to admit it, to worship him with her words the way her body already did.

"Chris, I didn't—" she started, but Chris cut her off.

"Don't, Ash. Just... save it." The fire in his voice had gone. Replaced with an emptiness that made Ashley want to race home and hold him in her arms. "I'm going to get a hotel and crash there tonight. I can't be alone in the house right now."

Her throat closed up. She wanted to scream that he had it all wrong, that they were stronger than this and they could still fix it. But the words wouldn't come. Chris was giving up, and no matter what she said to him, it wouldn't be enough. She needed to find another way.

"Chris, please. Let's just—"

"I have to," he said, adding a quick "I love you," and ending the call before she could say it back.

"I—" but the line was already dead.

Ashley slammed her hands into the dash, letting out a strangling cry. She pulled down the visor mirror and stared at her reflection. Red-rimmed eyes. Mascara streaked down both cheeks. Her face blotchy and swollen. Her shift started in three minutes, and she had no idea where to start.

***

The elevator doors parted with a gentle ding, and Ashley stepped into the familiar chaos of the evening shift change on her floor. She scanned the faces of the nurses sitting around the station hoping that she could get through shift change without anyone she was too familiar with seeing her. Monitors beeped from somewhere down the hall, as each step drew her closer to the circle of women already whispering amongst themselves.

She'd managed to fix her makeup in the car. It was far from perfect but she looked presentable. Foundation covered the worst of the blotchiness, fresh mascara hid the evidence of tears. From a distance she doubted anyone would notice. Up close, anyone paying would be able to see her failed attempt.

"Jesus, Ash." Jen had spotted her before she'd made it ten feet inside the door. Ashley's stomach dropped, not prepared to have this conversation. They hadn't even had time to talk about what transpired at with Ashley and Dave. This was only going to make things more awkward.

"Hey." Ashley's voice came out rough. She cleared her throat. "Didn't know you were working tonight."

"Picked up an extra shift." Jen closed the distance between them, locking their arms together. "You look like hell."

"Thanks." Ashley tried for a smile that probably looked as fake as it felt. "Rough day."

"That may be the understatement of the century. Do you want to talk about it?"

"I..." tears welled in her eyes. "Let's make it through shift change. I'm barely holding it together."

Jen nodded, running her fingers through her friend's hair as they stopped in front of the nurse's station together.

Shift change dragged on forever. The only silver lining to any of it was that Mrs. Johnson was here. She hadn't spoken to the old lady since they had their fallout several weeks ago about the path Ashley was going down. She hated how she left things with her. She couldn't see her favorite patient like this though. First, she had to talk to Jen, get her emotions in check and then she'd go up.

As the circle of nurses broke apart, Jen grabbed Ashley's arm, pulling her toward the empty stairwell.

"Spill it," Jen said as the heavy door thudded shut and a cool breeze whipped over them.

Ashley forced a smile, she was glad she had a friend like Jen. Someone who she could talk to no matter what. She was mad at herself for not reaching out sooner. For thinking that their night together would have affected their friendship. Of course it wouldn't. It was stronger than that. Just like her marriage was... Ashley's composure shattered, she threw herself at Jen and smothering herself in the scent of her perfume and detergent that clung to her scrub top.

"Hey, I got you," Jen whispered as she caught her in her arms. Her hands clutched around Ashley's shoulder blades, stroking her hair softly. She didn't say anything, just continued to comfort her friend until her sobs disappeared into soft whimpers.

After what felt like hours, but was probably no more than five minutes, Jen pulled back to look her friend in the eye. "What's going on?"

"Chris and I had a fight this morning." Ashley's voice came out raw. "He's staying at a hotel tonight."

"Oh, Ash, I'm so sorry." She dropped her hands to Ashley's squeezing them. "It.. it wasn't about what happened with me and Dave, was it?"

"No... no, of course not." Ashley wiped the remaining tears from her eyes. "He enjoyed that night." She tried her best to smile. "We both did."

A look of relief washed of Jen's face. "Does it have something to do with the thumb drive Chris borrowed from Dave?"

On instinct, Ashley's eyes snapped to the front pockets of Jen's scrubs. She let out a breath when she didn't see the outline of a phone. "Kinda..." She wasn't sure how much she could tell Jen. She didn't want to implement her in anything. "There's this guy I've been seeing. Chris's boss."

Heat crept up her neck as she saw the smirk Jen was giving her, but she powered through it. "It started out fun, casual. But now..." Ashley closed her eyes trying to fight back the tears from starting again. "Chris thinks I'm in love with him."

"Are you?"

Ashley took a step back. "Why would you ask me that?"

Jen sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "A couple years ago, when Dave and I just started opening our marriage, I hooked up with Dr. Franklin. You remember him? He transferred about a year ago, used to work in radiology. Had this tribal looking tattoo on his arm."

Ashley nodded. He was easy on the eyes and knew it. Every interaction she had with him felt flirty.

"Anyway, the sex was out of this world. I mean the things that man could do with his tongue." Jen realized the way Ashley was looking at her and laughed embarrassedly. "Anyway, I convinced myself I was in love with him. That Dave and I would never have chemistry like that and I had been missing out my entire life."

Ashley's eyes went wide. "Oh my God. I had no idea."

"Nobody did, except Dave. You know what he said when I told him."

"What?"

Jen laughed, and shook her head. "He said, it's just sex, Jen. You're putting too much stock into it." She smiled. "And he was right. I was. But that's when I realized just how simple of creatures men are."

Ashley raised her eyebrow, confused.

"Men compartmentalize. When Dave sleeps with another woman, it literally means nothing more to him than jerking off in the shower." She saw a look of shock on Ashley's face. "No offense," she quickly added. "His heart just never gets involved unless he lets it."

"But us? We can't separate it that cleanly. The same hormones that make sex feel good also make us bond. Make us attach. Make us confuse physical pleasure with emotional connection." She gripped Ashley's shoulders. "After I broke things off with Dr. Franklin I was devastated for weeks. I blamed Dave, I blamed my parents for insisting I marry so young. But then, I got over it and I realized Dave was right. I didn't love Benji. Hell, I didn't know anything about him other than he'd given me the best orgasms of my life, but I couldn't separate the two. We never had to do the hard stuff together. Would he comfort me if I was sad, or sick? The only time we'd spent together neither of us has clothes on."

There was a long pause in the conversation where neither woman spoke, they just looked at each other with quiet understanding.

"So what happened? You and Dave obviously still..."

Jen laughed. "Dave still has his fun from time to time. I just... watch. It's less complicated that way."

"I don't know what to do, Jen."

"You need to figure out what you want, and then fight for it."

Ashley opened her mouth to respond, but stopped. She needed time to process what Jen had said, what she was feeling.

"Do you need a place to stay? I'm sure Dave would love having you over again." A playful smile tugged on Jen's lips.

"You're such a perv," Ashley responded with a smallest hint of a smile. "I appreciate the gesture. Really I do, but that would probably only make things worse."

"I understand," Jen said, touching her arm. "But if you change your mind I can make him sleep on the sofa and we can have a girls night."

"Thanks," Ashley said, letting her fingers slide across Jen's arms as her collogue made her way to the door. "I'm going to stay here a minute then start to make my rounds."

"Take all the time you need."

***

The next few hours passed on autopilot as Ashley made her rounds. She sent another text to Chris making sure he'd gotten to the hotel alright, but all she got back was a thumbs up emoji. She thought about what Jen said, how so much of what she said mirrored Mrs. Johnson's own advice. Her stomach knotted. She'd been avoiding Mrs. Johnson, too ashamed to face her again. But she was out of excuses, she needed to see her.

As she made her way to the end of the hall where Mrs. Johnson's room was, the supply closet door opened, a hand darting out and pulling her in making her gasp.

The door clicked shut as Ashley's back slammed against it, and The Janitor pressed into her, his yellow teeth shining in the dim light.

"Hey there, princess." His gravelly voice filled the small space. "Been a while."

Heat crawled up Ashley's neck, as a familiar tingle spread between her legs. Memories of their last encounter flooding her mind, the way she'd used him to prove to herself she was in control.

"It has." She kept her voice steady, even as her body betrayed her with flushed cheeks.

He pressed into her, the rigid shape of his cock resting on her thigh. She could smell the cigarette smoke on his coveralls. "I believe you and me have some... unfinished business together." His eyes traveled her body, his thumb sliding under her scrub top and touching her bare skin.

"Not tonight, cowboy," she tried to keep her voice playfully.

"Still doing this little song and dance?" His hand crept higher of her torso brushing the underside of her breast and causing her breath to catch.

"I'm serious," she said, more sternly, as she pushed his hand away. "My life's a mess right now. I need to figure some shit out."

"How bout you let Ol' Charles here, help you with that." He reached up, unfashioning the buckle over his coverall.

Ashley couldn't help but laugh, she'd finally learned his name.

"Sorry to disappoint, big boy. But you're gonna have to fly solo tonight." She stood up straight, and fixed her scrub top.

He took a step back, studying her face, as if he was trying to gauge how serious she was.

"So what, your husband got in your head?" He cocked his head. "Told you to stop having fun?"

"I think I made it pretty clear last time we met, I make my own rules." She stepped toward him now, making him crowd the back wall. "We had a lot of fun... Charles." She placed her hand on his thigh and felt his cock twitch. "That's a real nice toy you got there, but I won't be needing your... services anymore."

He studied her, jaw tight. "So that's it? You're done?"

"I am," she said with a smile, and turning to face the door.

"Have it your way then," he said. She could hear the irritation in his voice. "But if you change your mind—"

"I won't."

Ashley stepped into the hallway, leaving him in the dim supply room. As she closed the door, she let out a long breath, her heart racing.

She'd done it. She'd ended it. On her terms. It wasn't much, but it was a small victory. She hurried down the hall, excited to tell Mrs. Johnson all about it.

The first sign something was wrong came from the cluster of people outside room 408. Then she heard it—the shrill alarm, rapid footsteps, Dr. Patel's voice cutting through the chaos: "Starting compressions!"

Ashley's excitement evaporated. Her legs carried her forward, faster, but everything felt like it was moving in slow motion.

She reached the doorway as the crash cart slammed against the wall. Dr. Patel's hands pressed rhythmically into Mrs. Johnson's chest. The old woman's body jerked with each compression, her head lolling to the side, eyes closed.

"Come on," Dr. Patel muttered. "Come on."

Ashley's hand found the doorframe, barely able to keep her legs from giving way. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not when she'd finally—

"Charge to 200," Dr. Patel ordered.

The paddles pressed against Mrs. Johnson's chest. Her frail body arched off the bed, then fell back. The monitor showed the same flat line.

"300. Clear!" Another jolt. Another flat line.

Ashley's throat constricted. She'd wasted so much time. Days avoiding this room, too proud to face the woman who'd told her the truth she needed to hear. And now—

"Time of death, 12:17 AM."

Her knees buckled, and she slid down the frame of the door. The noise of the hospital faded away as Ashley watched the doctor cover Mrs. Johnson's face with the sheet. Tears streaked her face before she even realized she'd been crying. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be real.

She brought her knees to her chest, wrapping herself in a tight hug. She'd just been laughing, flirting, wasting time in the supply closet with a man whose name she hadn't even known, while Mrs. Johnson—

I was going to tell her. The thought screamed through Ashley's mind. I was going to tell her she was right. That I should have listened.

But Mrs. Johnson would never know. The last thing Mrs. Johnson had seen was Ashley storming out, defensive and angry, choosing to run rather than face the truth.

Arms wrapped around her, pulling her head to Jen's familiar scent.

"Oh, Ash. I'm so sorry." Jen whispered, pulling her close. "I know how much she meant to you."

Ashley buried her face in Jen's shoulder, her body shaking. "I didn't—I never got to—"

"I know. I know."

They sat in the doorway, nurses and doctors moving hurriedly around them. They unhooked machines, whispered their condolences. All moving about their night like it was any other. Ashley couldn't stop seeing Mrs. Johnson's face during their last conversation. The disappointment. The concern.

"Go home," Jen said softly, stroking Ashley's hair. "I'll cover your patients. Take the rest of the night."

"I can't just—"

"Yes, you can." Jen pulled back, looking her in the eyes. "You need to go home, Ash. Be with your husband. Process this. I'll cover your other patients."

Ashley nodded numbly, walking back to retrieve her belongings in a haze. She grabbed her phone, pulling up her messages with glassy eyes and shaky hands.

I need you