I could flip a car with the jolt of protective hormones that hit my bloodstream
“Are you serious? You’re getting a cramp, Darcy. You need to take a break.” My voice is so stern I hardly recognize it. I’m about to haul her ass out of here and into the house.
Well. There’s another point in the “maybe I’m a daddy” column.
Darcy waves me off, groaning while she massages her calf. “It’ll pass. I’m fine.”
“Your body is screaming for help, Rossetti,” I bark. “You’re getting delirious. You need to take care of yourself.”
She stiffens and her eyes blaze into mine. “Leave me alone,Daddy,” she spits. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. I’m a fucking adult.”
I throw my hands out to the side. “Fine! Overheat. See if I care.” I turn to head back toward the barn. “I’m going to start loading your truck.”
“Oh, you made Daddy mad,” Caleb adds, and at that, I flip a middle finger over my shoulder.
NINETEEN
DARCY
My head is killing me,and if that knocking noise doesn’t stop, I’ll throw up.
“Darcy? Hey, it’s just me. I’m coming in to check on you.”
It’s a Herculean task to pry my eyes open, and once I do, the room spins.
“I got worried when you didn’t show up to put the horses out. You okay?”
My hazy eyes focus on Jake as he cautiously approaches my bed. I glance at the bedside clock. 7:30. Farm chores are well underway at this point. I mumble out a “shit” and spring out of bed. The room tilts and I fall to my knees, then immediately start dry heaving.
Jake races for the trash can by my dresser, plopping it in front of me. He sits on the floor next to me, his big hands swooping my messy hair out of my face. I usually sleep with it in a high ponytail, but that’s come loose at some point. Tension pulls at the back of my head as he takes out my hair band and reties it.
“I’m here. I’ve got you.”
I want to tell him to go away, to let me be sick in peace. Just yesterday, he was picking on me and trying to boss me around. All that attitude’s gone now, looking into my eyes more like he’s examining them than gazing into my soul. The back of his hand meets my forehead, then his fingers grip my wrist.
“I’m fine,” I cough out between gags. Jake doesn’t respond, eyes on his watch with his fingers still at my pulse point.
“Did you drink anything at the market?” he asks.
I think back, not really sure. The market had been even hotter than working on the farm, with the sun blazing down on a black parking lot. We were under a tent, but the pavement heated us from below. “I think I finished my bottle . . . maybe.”
He shakes his head and chuckles. “Next time you’re giving me shit for trying to take care of you, remember this moment.”
“Huh?” I close my eyes and lean back against the bed behind me.
“I tried to get you to drink something other than water yesterday and you wouldn’t. And you barely even drank water. I think you got overheated.”
Like I could forget him barking at me. Still, I know he’s right. I nod, glancing up at the untouched water glass on my nightstand. “Every time I drank something, my stomach hurt.”
Jake’s warm hand caresses my back, making soothing circles. When he speaks, his voice is stern. “Darlin’, that’s your body telling you something’s wrong. It was screaming for help and you were too stubborn to do anything.”
I know he’s right and I feel like a fool for putting myself—and the farm—in this position. “Don’t be mean to me,” I whimper. “You were mean yesterday.”
He slackens next to me, but keeps his gentle hand moving on my back. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be. I’m trying to help you.”
This can’t happen today. There are peaches to pick and we need to get the farm ready for the barbecue.
“I just need a shower and some coffee—” I move to get up and stumble again. That sets off another gag, this time producing something yellow and foul. Jake peers into the trash can and bobs his head, like looking at my puke is reading tea leaves for him.
