“One like this, maybe three or four a year.”
“What brings them on?”
His mouth tightened a little and Leah had to smooth out the knot that reappeared between his eyebrows. “Stress, usually.”
“Could you manage a drink?” she asked him, eyeing the glass of water on the nightstand and wondering if she could reach it without disturbing him.
Jackson said nothing for a few minutes. When he finally spoke, her heart flip-flopped in her chest. “Please don’t make me move. I’ll drink later.”
Face still pressed to her leg, lips resting against her jeans, he fell silent again. Peace was a fragile, tangible presence in the Bed of Truth. Leah continued to stroke his hair until exhaustion pulled him under once more and he slept.
Chapter 18
Jackson
He was on his back when he woke. The vise of pain around his head had dialed back to a tender thump, while his stomach rolled queasily, empty and protesting. Jackson opened his eyes tentatively but the flashing lights from the peak of his migraine were gone.
Leah hadn’t left; he could smell her even before he saw her. Fruit and flowers, sharp and sweet, but so subtle it didn’t overwhelm his jangling senses. Her presence was pure comfort, which was both confusing and disturbing.
She was reading, her delicate face bathed in the low light of a Kindle screen. Legs curled to one side, her body angled toward him, drowning as usual beneath the soft folds of an old sweatshirt. Leah twisted a midnight curl around her fingers and Jackson was instantly, achingly jealous.
His throat prickled and tightened. “What are you reading?” The question sounded rough from his dry lips.
Leah immediately lowered her Kindle to her lap. “It’s a fantasy romance. Love with swords and wings—that kind of thing.”
Jackson watched her mouth form the words. “Swords and wings,” he repeated.
“Uh-huh. Love should always come with swords and wings.” Leah’s smile grew.
“I feel as though that’s more meaningful than I can get my head around right now,” he admitted.
Even the dark was no match for the sparkle in her eyes. “I’m not sure it means anything at all, but it would look good on a t-shirt.”
“That’s you sorted for Christmas, then.”
There was a sour taste in his mouth, a layer of stale sweat clung to his skin, and he would bet good money he stank. Moving was a hideous prospect and a shower was out of the question, but a trip to the bathroom was non-negotiable. He pushed himself up on shaky arms and grimaced as his stomach clenched.
“Hold on—” Leah knelt on the bed. “Can I help?”
“I think I’ve got it,” Jackson muttered through gritted teeth. “I need the bathroom.”
He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and stood, weaving slightly, eyes closed momentarily as the pain pulsed in his head again. When it dulled a little, he opened them and headed slowly for the door.
The bathroom, thank God, was close by. Jackson took a piss and then leaned on the front edge of the sink, eyeing the wreck of himself in the mirror. Coming off the back of a migraine was not the time for an ego boost. He looked like hell and felt worse. With no strength for a major overhaul, he washed his face, attempted to smooth down his hair, and scowled at his reflection. He took a tiny swig of mouthwash, which made him heave and admit defeat.
In the bedroom, he found the bed empty and no Leah.
“Hardly fucking surprising.” He cursed, low and bitter, unsure if he was angry at her, himself, or the fact that he wished she was still on his bed. He pulled yet another fresh tee from the dresser and stripped off the one he wore.
“What is?” Leah answered, curiosity in her voice as she stepped back into the room.
Jackson felt her eyes on his bare chest like tiny defibrillator paddles pressed against his skin. It gave him a whole-body shock; all his nerve endings leaped in response. They both froze in a tableau of coupledom interrupted, false though it was, as Leah’s face showed a thousand different expressions in the space of a few seconds.
“Nothing. Ignore me.” He dragged the new t-shirt over his head, breaking their eye contact, self-conscious and utterly unsettled.
What the fuck must she think? And why do I care?
Jackson crawled back into bed, desperate to be horizontal again. He sighed as his head touched the pillow and the tight band around his temples eased a little.
