She opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Thought so.”
Once we were upstairs, I strode straight to the bed and laid her down as gently as possible. She grimaced as soon as her spine met gravity, and I had to fight the overwhelming urge to punch a wall. I fucking knew I shouldn’t have listened to her all the times she said she was fine and she could handle everything. That she didn’t need my help.
Stubbornness was going to be her—and my—downfall.
“Lincoln—”
“I’ll be right back.”
She started to sit up, but I sent her a look that froze her in place.
“That wasn’t an invitation for you to move, wife. Just sit your sweet ass right there until I come back.”
The scowl she shot me was one for the record books, but, for once, she didn’t argue. That, in itself, screamed volumes.
I stalked downstairs, not bothering to tread lightly. Because yeah—I was pissed and had reached my limits with this entire situation. I wasn’t mad ather—not really. I was mad at the fact that she was obviously in daily agony and still trying to pretend she didn’t need anything from anyone, least of all me. Worse, she acted like I was somehow inconveniencing her by giving a damn about my wife.
While her microwavable heating pad was warming up, I grabbed a water bottle and found her stash of pot gummies she kept in the pantry next to the dried lavender. I wasn’t wasting time with over-the-counter painkillers because they wouldn’t do shit when her back was this bad. She needed the good stuff.
When I made it back upstairs, she was exactly where I’d left her, and that told me everything I needed to know.
She was hurting. Badly.
After setting everything on the nightstand, I got to work. I grabbed some extra pillows from under the bed and adjusted them how she liked—two behind her back, two beneath her knees, and one under each arm…a perfect little cocoon. Once she was situated as comfortably as she could be, I helped her sit up and slid the warmed heating pad between her back and the pillows.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “I can?—”
“Just sit your ass there and let me help.”
She snapped her mouth shut and huffed out an irritated breath but allowed me to do as I’d asked.
I grabbed a gummy and held it out to her. “Take this.”
“You’re overreacting.”
“You’reunderreacting. Now, take it.”
Without a word, she snatched the gummy from my hand, popped it into her mouth, and chewed before washing it down with water.
“I hate this,” she muttered, avoiding my eyes. “Being weak.”
“You’renotweak,” I said, sharper than I should have, considering the amount of pain she was in. Butfuck. “You’re anything but weak, hellcat. You deal with unimaginable pain every day and just go about your life as usual. What youare, though, is so goddamn stubborn that you’d rather crawl across broken glass than admit you need help.”
She snapped her gaze to me, eyes wide and lips parted as she blinked at me and my rising ire in surprise. “Um…where’sthiscoming from?”
“Fuck if I know.” I sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle her, and braced my elbows on my knees. “I’m just…tired, Willa.”
“Of what?” she asked, her expression wary and guarded like she thought I was tired ofher.
“Don’t do that shit—I can see it written across your face that you think my helping you for all of five fucking minutes is reason enough for me to be sick of it. When actually, I’m tired of watching you destroy yourself just to prove some bullshit point no one ever asked you to make. And I’m tired of wanting to help you but getting shut down every fucking time like I’m offering you poison instead of a fucking heating pad.”
My voice grew louder with each word as I finally released this frustration that had been bottling up inside for weeks, months… Years.
She stared at me in shock, her mouth opening and closing several times before she finally cleared her throat. “You’re…mad.”
“Yeah, I’m fucking mad.”
