Love At First Gear Ch 12

Note: I'm sorry to return with a non-spicy chapter, but the chapter I will upload next week will be spicy! This chapter skips around a little bit. I know some of you really don't like that, so just as a refresher in the last chapter we met the former soldier John and his bar, The Growler. We've also previously met Walker, who has been tracking Mack and Ashleigh and visited their abandoned camp site to recover their phones. Normally I would give these sections chapter numbers instead of having the story "skip", but if I uploaded chapters that short I think we would all be disappointed.

I have finished writing LAFG and started working on the next book, but I am currently facing some pretty serious health struggles and am not sure when I will be uploading the rest of anything.

If you are interested in reading the last chapters of this story and giving feedback, send me feedback through this site!

This chapter is not a sexy-time chapter. If you're looking for that, try chapters 1, 2, 3, 5, 10, and the next chapter (coming soon). - Ava

TWELVE

"I did my best not to mess up your ink."

Mack woke in an unfamiliar clinical setting, a recessed light shining dimly on him from above his bed. Blinking and rubbing his eyes he looked around the room, his eyes falling on a young man in scrubs.

"Did I wreck?"

The doctor twitched one eyebrow upward before rising from his stool and walking toward Mack. "Alright," he said, pulling a flashlight out of his pocket and pointing it in Mack's eyes, first one, then the other. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"I uh," Mack frowned. He'd been pre-tripping a truck, hadn't he? Then...

The events of the day flashed through his head like lightning. "Ashleigh," he gasped, groaning as he rose from the bed. He half expected the doctor to push him down, but instead he put a hand on his back and helped him up. "She's here, right there," the doctor told him, gesturing at a bed a little distance from Mack's.

"Did they shoot her?" Mack's tone was dark.

"No, nothing like that. Took her for a ride, but she got away."

I failed her. I dragged her out into the open and then I fucking failed her.

Mack looked down at his arm now and took in the sling holding up his right arm.

"My shifting hand," he grumbled, "of course."

The doctor chuckled. "I'm Brandon, by the way," he said finally introducing himself. "You had a pretty serious injury but alphas heal quick. You should be able to drive in a week, I'd think."

"I better be," Mack groused. "My new truck gets here next week and I need to get her back out on the road." He tilted his head at Ashleigh to indicate the "her" he meant was not the truck.

I can't stand another week at the compound,

he realized. "What, uh," he started, wondering how the doctor knew he was an alpha in the first place. He hadn't even told Travis what he suspected. Brandon seemed to sense his confusion and hurried to clear it up.

"I'm a lycan, too," he told Mack, smiling when he felt Mack relax a little bit. "I went into plastic surgery so I could start my own surgery center and work on wolves at night."

Mack had never met a lycan in medicine. Half-bloods like Reg, sure, but never anyone like Brandon. He nodded at him. "That's a smart idea." His head had spun a bit when he first sat up but gradually he felt himself return to his usual sturdiness. He couldn't take his eyes off Ashleigh. She was bruised everywhere he could see, dust caked in her hair and blood under her fingernails. Brandon had left her in her street clothes, which were saturated with dried blood.

How much of that is hers?

"What did she do?" He had to figure out what happened after the gunshot.

"I guess she shifted, right? I wasn't there, but Travis and Jana were. That first shift is always rough without having to kill somebody, or a bunch of somebodys, like in her case."

Shifted? It's not even the full moon. Even if she were a lycan she couldn't shift unless...

"Luckily for us Miss Marlow is made of pretty tough stuff. Just a mild concussion..."

Mack didn't hear what else the doctor said.

Marlow. Not that Marlow, right? She doesn't even smell like a lycan. She smells like...

"Oh fuck," Mack blurted out causing the doctor, who had left him to check Ashleigh's vitals again, to turn and look at him inquisitively. "Travis is gonna kill me," he said aloud, unable to stop the panic washing over him.

I can't believe the Marlows are real and not just one of Travis' bullshit stories. Shit! How did I get so lucky to end up with one in my bed? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Brandon misunderstood him and looked relieved. "Oh, no, everyone's going to be okay. I'm sure he understands--"

Mack wasn't listening. He was spiraling.

Jesus Christ, Mack, what have you done? Did you just realize you don't know her last name? You've been fucking her and telling her to have your babies! Your babies, you lovesick dipshit! You moved her into your truck and the compound and you didn't even know--

It doesn't matter, the wolf answered his panic with fierce resolve, as always. If Travis has an issue we'll leave the pack and start our own. Who cares about him? He's not our mate--

"I've just got her lightly sedated, mostly I was worried about her getting a little shocky after the day she had, fluids for the dehydration and gave her a painkiller for all the bumps and bruises. But she should heal fast, that alpha blood is something else." Brandon grinned at Mack as he spoke, completely oblivious to the turmoil boiling over inside the other wolf. "How do you make two alphas in a relationship work, anyway? I've always heard they're just as aggressive."

"She's not," Mack blurted out as he frantically tried to parse everything the doctor was saying and everything going on inside his mind. "She's uh, you can't tell anybody about her. I appreciate your help a lot but if you tell anyone about her--"

"Relax," Brandon told him, holding up his hands. "Travis already let me know how many different counties they'd find my guts in if I ever told anyone about you two. Besides, I'm a doctor. All I do is keep people's secrets."

"Travis knows?"

The eyebrow shot up again. "Did you bring her into the pack without telling Travis she was an alpha?"

"To be honest I just kinda found out myself."

The doctor lifted his head a little, giving Mack a knowing look. "I get it," he said quietly. "I kind of lose it around women, too. I've managed not to bring any home to my parents, though." He chuckled lightly. "What a surprise for you then, I guess."

"Fuck," Mack muttered, rubbing his face with the one hand he could use.

"Come here," Brandon gestured toward a well-lit bathroom attached to the small hospital room. "I want to see what you think. Reg did a quick job, dealt with the nicked artery and got the fragments out, but you were still kind of a mess," Brandon laughed as he explained Mack's injuries to him as if they were someone else's. "Fractured clavicle but that'll heal fast on you. Most people would be looking at six-to-twelve weeks. I can probably take your stitches out in a couple days but you really can't drive for a week. You had some muscle damage and the bone will take a while to heal. Even after a few weeks you might have residual nerve damage, neck pain, we'll see, I guess. Might need physical therapy," the doctor rattled off a bunch of stuff that Mack really didn't want to hear.

I'll be fine,

he told himself,

I'm always fine.

He looked in the mirror at his shoulder, watching Brandon lift the bandage before using his finger to indicate a line he could barely see against the black and gray tattoo beneath. The bullet had hit him in a good spot, as far as the tattoo was concerned. Any lower and instead of being in the stars and clouds that covered his collarbones and shoulders it would have been in the detailed wolves running across his chest beneath them. He couldn't see his bicep inside the sling, where the clouds and silhouettes of trees faded into a complicated array of gears, skulls hidden in the shadows between the gears.

"They didn't hit me anywhere else, I take it?"

Brandon shook his head. "Thankfully, no. You lost a lot of blood but I don't think you lost any ink. Still might need a touch-up, though. If I'd left it how Reg had it you'd end up with a big ugly scar, but once I saw that masterpiece I couldn't leave it like that."

Mack smirked. "Thanks, man." He turned and offered his left hand for an awkward handshake.

"There's a small wound on your shoulder where one of the fragments came through. Maybe you should think about extending that piece eventually. Or come back and I'll help you get rid of the scar."

Mack wasn't really a vain man. A scar wouldn't bother him, especially where he would almost never see it. But it would be a good excuse to splash out a few thousand more on what he called "therapy." Ashleigh had never commented on his tattoos even though they covered his arms to his first knuckles and descended over his abdomen to his thighs. Now he found himself more concerned with whether she would like him to have more tattoos or not than he did with the prospect of having a scar.

She must like them,

he thought as he recalled the first few times he took her in his human form. She'd had no complaints and had run her hands all over him, that is, when he let her have her hands.

"You got really lucky," Brandon said, a little more somber than before. "A little lower and we wouldn't be talking right now, or ever."

"I reckon I owe you a beer or a hundred," Mack said, Brandon laughing and shaking his head. "Nah, you owe Reg though. He got the bleeding stopped a long time before I ever saw you. No drinking while you're on those painkillers, though," he said, suddenly all business again, "I'll get you a prescription--"

With a wave of his hand Mack cut him off. "I don't take that stuff, ever. I'd rather be in pain than not have my mind working right, or get in an accident and have any trace of it in my system." Mack had visions of running into a school bus and being sued for ten million dollars or sitting in jail for the rest of his life anytime the topic of pharmaceuticals came up. For the same reason he rarely ever drank, never touched drugs, and restricted his vices to whatever he could get from women.

From Ashleigh,

he thought. His lifestyle choices ensured he wasn't the most popular pack member by a long shot, an honor probably reserved for River or Everett, both sociable drunks. Brandon nodded. "You can take Tylenol and Ibuprofen together for a few days, then. After that we need to talk if you're still hurting."

The rest of the night passed quietly. Wolves came and went, collecting medicine and receiving minor treatments, meanwhile Mack sat in a chair and watched Ashleigh's chest rise and fall.

What am I going to do with you?

He thought about all the time they'd spent together so far. Had there been any warning signs?

What an interesting turn of events,

he thought.

I was worried she'd be afraid of me and now maybe I'm afraid of her. What will happen if we have kids?

Travis had told him years ago about Marlow and his weird fae-wolf kids.

What if he wasn't full of shit? What if Ashleigh is like that? Can I handle this?

Who else is going to handle her? Let me out, I'll take care of her.

The wolf's tone chilled him and reminded him of why he'd taken off in the first place.

It's not a competition. She submits and doesn't challenge us. You don't get to bite her or abuse her, asshole,

he thought at the wolf as aggressively as he could.

He shook his head to clear it, catching Brandon's eye as the doctor locked the door behind his last lycan customer. "Wolf-brain?" he asked, an eyebrow sliding up his forehead once again. Mack scowled at him. "How'd you know?"

"Oh, I have it, too."

"I only know one other guy that has it, but his is self-destructive--"

"Mine tells me to fuck everything that walks, and kill everything I can't fuck," Brandon interrupted him bluntly.

"It's awful, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but at least you have a mate."

"You're single? How? You're a young good-looking lycan with doctor money, every wolf in town should be throwing his daughters at you."

Brandon just laughed and shook his head before excusing himself. "I'll just be down the hall if you need me. I'm going to get a little rest before the humans start turning up," he told Mack. Mack nodded and waved him away, turning his full attention back to Ashleigh. Now that he'd stopped spiraling over the discovery of what she was, he began spiraling over the fact that he'd let her down in such a colossal fashion.

I can't believe I did this to you,

he thought over and over as he watched her sleep.

I have to get myself together before I get one or both of us killed.

Gradually sleep washed over him again, momentarily taking his shame away with his consciousness.

Slowly Ashleigh realized she was in a truck again.

Again?

It was different, though. Instead of the bunks it had one larger mattress.

Is this the new truck,

she wondered. Where was that man?

The beautiful black-haired one with all the tattoos?

Gradually she realized she was naked, warm, and almost sick to her stomach. The man appeared, offering her ginger ale through a straw and a handful of gingersnap cookies. She took them gratefully, sipping from the cup while he knelt beside the bed holding it up for her. He did this every day, didn't he? His other hand, now empty of cookies, rested on her belly. Her enormous belly. She glanced down and her heart skipped a beat.

My baby,

she thought,

our baby.

The ginger ale was gone, and the man with it.

What was his name?

She couldn't remember. Before she'd rested in the bright white light of a winter morning, but now it was dark, the cab illuminated only by the LED bunk lights. Snowflakes fell in the yellow light of the trailer's marker lights outside the window. She knelt on the floor beside the bed, her head and arms resting on the mattress. Now the man was behind her, rubbing her hips and telling her it would be okay.

"I can't do it," she heard her own voice, "I need help," she sobbed, his rough hands rubbing her back and shoulders. "You can do it," he told her, "just relax." Suddenly her body was pushing whether she wanted to or not. He exclaimed when the head emerged, Ashleigh whimpering in short-lived relief. Another urge to push seized her, another round of burning pain, then more whimpering and relieved sobbing when the pressure was finally gone.

"She's perfect," he was crying when he thrusted the baby against her chest, then lifted them both into the bed. She rubbed the baby's back and it cried, her heart soaring when she heard it. The dream faded into warm nonsense before reforming. Now the truck was in motion, Ashleigh and the baby resting peacefully in the bed, the baby suckling and growing in her arms, her belly swelling again before the dream faded and formed once more, this time arising in a swell of panic.

A man demonstrated something at the front of a classroom. Everyone was staring at him except Ashleigh. She couldn't stop looking for her babies. Where had they gone? They were just there a minute ago. Why couldn't she remember how many?

A girl, two boys, twins? One boy? Where is that man?

Fear roiled inside of her. Why was she back here? She didn't want to be here, she wanted to be in the truck with the blue-eyed trucker. The more frantically she searched the more people turned and laughed at her, bringing her attention to her nudity. The professor turned and yelled something about Freud at her. He just kept yelling it over and over. It didn't make sense, it wasn't something Freud had ever said, she knew that much. Running out of the classroom she spotted the truck and ran to the passenger door.

Thank God I'm home,

she thought as she climbed into the cab. The big man was in the driver's seat waiting for her. Not the beautiful one, but the traitor-wolf she'd dug her hands into.

"Where are my babies?" she screamed at him, but he turned his ruined face to her and laughed. Her belly was swelling again, but now seeing it filled her with a sense of violation and dread. It wasn't the beautiful man's baby now, it was someone else's.

A monster.

I'm a monster,

she thought, gradually waking in the plastic surgery center's dim nighttime lighting. There was the trucker again. He was worried, standing beside her and stroking her hair. "Ashleigh," he said over and over, caressing her cheeks and trying to wake her.

How does he know my name,

she wondered, then gasped as fear surged through her again.

"Where is my baby?" she whimpered at him. "I lost them, where are they?" Her voice rose, becoming more demanding while Mack stood in stunned silence. Despite what the wolf had chanted at him day and night for days on end now, Ashleigh's proclamation that she had babies really freaked him out. Brandon had warned Mack before he left that her sedative would likely wear off soon. If anything was wrong he was supposed to wake Brandon. Mack wondered if phantom baby fell into that category.

"Where is she?" she pleaded. "Jana?" Mack asked, confused. She frowned.

Who the fuck is Jana,

she wondered, and he could read her mind from the look on her face. "I think I need to get the doctor," he told her, but she wailed at him, clawing at his good arm and shrieking, "how could you lose our baby?"

"Our baby,"

he repeated, stunned.

"You caught her in your own hands, don't you remember? In the truck? How could you lose her?"

Mack's eyes darted around the room as he searched for some way to make sense of all this. Brandon, awoken by her wailing, quickly entered the room and went to work trying to calm Ashleigh down.

"Sometimes vivid dreams are a side effect," he calmly explained. That didn't seem to help. She was certain she'd had a baby only moments before and wouldn't let it go.

"It's okay," he kept trying, "tell me, what day is it?"

She froze. "I don't know," she answered quietly.

"That's okay. What year do you think it is?"

Her answer was wrong. Mack began panicking for more reasons than how nervous her statements about the imaginary baby had made him.

"Let's try easier stuff," Brandon offered calmly. "What's your name?"

"Ashleigh Nicole Marlow," she answered, her voice still quiet.

Well, that was easy,

Mack thought.

No idea why I didn't think to just ask her what her fucking name was.

"Good, good. And what's this guy's name?" He jerked a thumb at Mack.

She stared at him.

And stared at him.

She forgot me,

Mack realized, putting a hand up as if he were rubbing his chin when he was really trying to hold back the emotion that threatened to erupt now.

I should just let her go, let her get back to school and get away from me,

he thought.

This is a second chance, I should give it to her.

"Mack," Ashleigh answered, hesitantly. Brandon exhaled sharply.

"Good, that's good. Do you know where you are?"

"New Mexico?" Ashleigh replied, uncertain. He nodded.

"Drug-induced amnesia," he explained to Mack. "Happens to some people on certain sedatives. She might be a little off for a few days while it leaves her system."

Mack nodded, trying to look relieved.

I want off this fucking rollercoaster,

he thought grimly, his guts untwisting and re-twisting as Ashleigh's baby comments played over and over in his head.

I might not want kids after all,

he realized.

Yes you do, pansy,

the wolf snarled at him.

What do you think your job is? Make more alphas and quit whining.

"Now that she's awake I need to get you two out of here," Brandon told him, snapping his thoughts back to the present situation. Mack nodded. "I'll call Jana, see if we can get a ride," Mack told him, excusing himself to use the phone. Outside of the hospital room he stepped into a bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He felt sick to his stomach.

What if she'd had a brain injury,

he thought,

and all you could think was good for her, she gets a second chance? What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you love her or not?

He wanted to punch his own reflection in the mirror but thought better of it, managing to convince himself to find the phone and get out of the kind doctor's way without committing any property damage.