33
If anyone had ever told me I would need a man as much as I needed Brody Murphy, I would have called them a liar.
Then I would have to apologize after the week I spent waiting to hear from him. Every day, every time my phone would ring, my heart would stop for a split second.
I worried about him, and Jacks, every single day. I wanted to know they were both okay. That Monica hadn’t succeeded in her evil scheme.
I also wondered what Monica had done when she realized that she no longer had leverage over me. I almost wished I could have seen her face when she heard the news.
I only hoped that my actions hadn’t pushed her to jumpstart her campaign against Brody.
I wrestled the urge to call Brody every single day and tried to keep busy. My house and the store had never been so clean or organized, mostly because I spent every waking minute doingsomething.And there were a lot of waking minutes because I was having trouble sleeping.
Lack of sleep was also directly contributing to my foul disposition and almost daily headaches.
Speaking of, I had a horrific headache at that very moment. It felt as though a ghost had found a non-corporeal ice pick and shoved it into my head via my eye.
Every time I blinked or my heart beat, it hurt.
After the third time I sucked in a sharp breath from the pain, Sierra looked at me and tossed her bar mop towel down on the stainless countertop.
“Go home,” she commanded.
"I'm fine," I shot back.
"You're not. You look like crap and based on your pupils, I'm pretty sure you have a migraine. Go home, take some meds, and rest. It's slow for a Tuesday and if I get desperate I'll call in one of the other girls."
"But the after dinner rush will start—"
Sierra pointed a finger toward the back. "Go. Home. Or I'll call your dad and tell him you have a migraine and you're refusing to take anything for it."
I winced. My father, being a doctor, never hesitated to tell someone to stop being a stubborn ass and take their medicine. He was especially short on patience with adults who refused to treat medical issues that they had. Children, he had more tolerance for because he reasoned that medication was an unknown and they were frightened of it.
I caved. "Fine, I'm leaving."
I untied my apron and carried it back into my office. Within a few minutes, I had my purse over my shoulder and I was headed out the back door.
"Call me if you need me," I yelled to Sierra. Then I hissed and cringed at the pain it caused. Man, I was in worse shape than I thought.
"I won't need you," she yelled back. "I'll check on you when I get home."
I knew when I was beat. I also discovered I'd been had when I got home. My father waited on my covered front porch, his medical bag on the ground next to him.
I parked and climbed out of the car. As soon as I was close enough, I said, "I'm fine, Dad. Nothing a little ibuprofen and some rest won't cure."
"Then you won't mind if I decide that for myself."
I sighed. "What happened to the days you just assumed I was faking it when I told you I didn't feel well?"
My dad chuckled as he grabbed his medical bag and stood. "Those days ended when you graduated high school and I knew that you didn't want to skip class."
I made a face at him and unlocked my door. "Why didn't you let yourself in? Did you lose your key?"
"No. I was enjoying the summer day for a little while. Fall will be here soon enough. Plus your mom has it so cold in the office that it resembles the Arctic."
In this part of Texas, cooler temperatures didn't hit until around Halloween. Sweater weather was usually around Christmas. So fall was a long ways off.
I didn't call him out on it, just let him into the house. He waited patiently as I hung up my keys and my purse. He didn't say anything when I left the light off. Though my windows were covered by blinds, they let enough light in that the house wasn't all that dark. And with this headache, the idea of turning on anything more than a dim lamp made me want to cry.
