After a long pause, Alec leaves. The door clicks shut behind him, and I fumble for my phone. I open my email, go to my drafts, and hit send on every one of the job applications I have lined up. I’ve written one to just about every farm in Scotland, but I’ve never been pissed enough to send them. Until now.
When the last email is gone, I toss my phone and collapse back onto my pillows.
Today is a wash.
I don’t know how much time passes as I slip in and out of sleep. I’m annoyed and bored and restless. Eventually, there’s another knock on the door.
I fight the urge to yell for whoever it is to go away. “What?”
The door cracks open, and Summer peeks inside. She looks lovely. She’s wearing a blue dress with puffy sleeves she must have made herself, her hair knotted up in a bun.
“Hey,” she says brightly, “are you okay? I thought you’d want some food. It’s getting late and—” She steps inside holding a plate and stops when she sees me properly. “Oh, is it hurting really bad?” Her face is sympathetic. “Do you need anything? A heat pack? Chocolate? Hug?”
An ugly feeling crackles inside me.
I’m not ashamed that this happens to me. I got over that a long time ago. But I do have some goddamn pride. I want this woman flushed and writhing over me, not looking at me laid up in bed withpity.
“No,” I bark. “I don’t want dinner, and I don’t want ahug.Can you please leave me the fuck alone?”
I regret the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth.
FORTY-EIGHT
CAMERON
“Oh. Right! Sorry!” She plasters on that fake smile I hate as she backs up.
I wipe a hand over my face, self-hatred burning in me.
I’m a bellend. She was just trying to help. “Summer,” I call. “Come back.”
“No, no, it’s fine, I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone?—”
“Summer.” Oh, for God’s sake. I close my eyes. “Summer, I want a hug.”
She pauses in the doorway. “What?”
“I’ve changed my mind. I want a hug. Please.”
Her eyes narrow. “No, you don’t.”
I just open my arms and wait. She hangs back. “Well?” I prompt. “I can’t cross the room and get you.”
After a few moments, she perches on the edge of the mattress. I grab her waist and haul her into my arms.
And…
Well. Shit.
There’s a reason I’ve been keeping her at arm’s length. Feels too good to hold her.
“I’m sorry,” I say into her hair. “My leg is killing me. I can be a twat when I’m like this.”
Unsurprisingly, she immediately forgives me. “That’s okay,” she says. “I can besucha bitch when I have period cramps.”
I do not believe that at all.
She tentatively lays her head on my chest. “Are you okay? Is it…bad?”
