Dr. Payton nods. “How long have you had migraines?”
She takes several breaths, her eyes closed. “For the past year. I had a severe concussion when I was in a car accident.”
Jesus Christ.
As they talk about the pain she’s experiencing and what kind of medication she normally takes when she has a migraine, something deep within me aches with the need to protect Ace. Because I’m pretty fucking sure no one ever has before.
This wasn’t supposed to be complicated.
“I’m going to give you the same type of medication you take, but a stronger dose. It’s going to make you drowsy, so the best thing to do is sleep,” Dr. Payton tells her as he draws liquid from a vial.
“I’ll put her to bed. What else will help her?”
“Everyone is different. What she has is an ocular migraine. It sits around her left eye, and it’s a horrible stabbing pain. It can make patients nauseous and off balance. Light often makes it worse. The best thing you can do is make sure she’s comfortable until the medication kicks in.”
“That’s it?” I scoff, rising to my full height, not giving a fuck that I’m only in my underwear right now. Balling my hands into fists, I glare at him. “Doc, that’s not good enough. Her being in pain isn’t good enough. Give her something else. Something that will help right now.”
“Kian, the medication I gave her is very strong. You just need to give it time. Until then, get her comfortable and try to hydrate her.”
My stomach burns when I glance at my poor girl again, balled up next to the toilet, her eyes closed as she holds the now-melting ice pack to her forehead. Is she falling asleep?
“Fine. Get out,” I snap at him.
Dr. Payton sighs and nods. “Call me if she hasn’t improved in the next couple of hours. I can give her a second dose, but we have to wait at least that long.”
Without waiting for any more from me, he picks up his bag and looks at Ace, but she doesn’t move or open her eyes, so he walks out, leaving us alone again.
I scoop her into my arms and carry her into my bedroom, then lower her onto the bed, pulling the covers around her.
From the bathroom, I grab the empty trash can and set it on the floor next to her.
“Baby girl, take a drink of water for me,” I tell her as I hold the bottle out.
Her eyes flutter open, and she looks at me, then sighs and closes them again.
In this moment, I can’t help but smile at her. She’s even a brat when she’s sick.
“Angel, be a good girl for Daddy and take some sips,” I repeat a little more firmly.
A small noise escapes her as she opens her eyes again, and I swear, her bottom lip pops out in the tiniest pout. It’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. But then she scoots against theheadboard, so she’s propped up. When I hold the water bottle to her mouth, she tries to take it, but I capture her wrist with my free hand.
“Let me take care of you.”
As she takes several sips, her eyes droop closed. “No more,” she finally whispers.
She didn’t drink as much as I’d like, but I’m not going to push her yet. I set the bottle on the nightstand, and before I turn back toward her, she’s snoring softly.
I suppose I owe the doctor an apology for being such an asshole. Whatever he gave her seems to have done the trick because she’s out like a light. For the first time since I woke up to the sound of her getting sick, I can actually take a full breath.
I’ve been watchingher sleep for eight hours and thirty-four minutes. The first hour, I watched every rise and fall of her chest to make sure she was still breathing.
Then I thought of all the reasons why I can’t get into a relationship right now. The main one that kept coming to mind was work. I don’t have time. I can’t offer Ace the time she deserves. If she’s even interested in anything more. She made it clear the first night we met that she only wanted something physical.
So why do I want to keep her? Why do I want to lock her up in my house, where I can look after her and make sure she’s taking care of herself? It’s been a year since her accident. Why the fuck is she still in pain? Why is she getting migraines?
I spent the next several hours researching every single thing I could about ocular migraines. Then I tried searching for news articles about her car accident, but nothing came up with her name, and I have no idea where she moved from. There’s very little I know about Ace, other than her soul talks to me when my cock is buried deep inside her pussy.
In my contacts, I hover over a name in my phone for a long moment before I open a message thread.
