The last thing I’m expecting is to wake up to a blinding pain in my head.
Chapter 15
Nikita
As soon as I feel Savanna start to move, I wrap my arms around her, wanting to keep her as close to me as possible. I’m still half-asleep, exhausted after our night, and when I hear her moan, it takes me a couple of seconds to realize it’s not the one I’m used to. It’s not her sexyI’m about to comewhimper. This is a sound that immediately makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and instantly makes the hard-on I was getting disappear with a quickness I hadn’t thought possible.
“Van, what’s wrong?” I lift up so I can see her, but she’s already burrowed under the pillow. Her hand rests on top of it, keeping it in place and making sure no light can get in. When she gives another pained moan, I throw the covers off, terrified that she’s bleeding or injured somewhere that I can’t see. My first thought is that I hurt her. I was too fucking aggressive last night, and I’m so pissed at myself I can barely think.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell her, running my hands over her body to try and find where the pain is coming from. “Did I do this? Was I too rough?”
She lifts the pillow just enough to say, “No, it’s not that.” Then after a second, she adds, “Migraine. I’m so sorry.”
A relieved breath spills from my lungs before I run a shaky hand through my messy hair. “What can I do?”
“Nothing.” Her voice is muffled from the pillow, but I can hear her easily enough. “Nothing ever helps. I just have to lay here and try to sleep it off.” I watch as she curls into the fetal position with her head still buried in darkness. Her voice is thick with emotion when she says, “I’m so sorry.”
My heart breaks with those three words, and when I lay down next to her and wrap my arm around her, she grabs my hand and hugs it against her chest. I feel her body softly shake, and I know she’s crying, and I feel completely and utterly useless. I can’t take the pain from her. I can’t make it go away. I want to protect her, but there’s nothing I can do.
I hold her while she cries, keeping my face pressed against her shoulder so I don’t disturb the little nest she’s made for her head.
“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” I kiss her shoulder while she clutches my hand and wraps her fingers around mine. “I’m sorry you’re in so much pain.”
“I ruined our day,” she says, and I shake my head, knowing she’ll feel the movement against her skin.
“You didn’t. I just want to spend time with you. That’s all I want and all I need. I’m sorry you’re in pain, but you’re not ruining anything, Van.”
Her body seems to calm at my words, and when I’m pretty sure she’s no longer crying, I kiss her shoulder again, and say, “I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Okay.”
She sounds so pitiful, and I have to force myself to get up and leave her alone on the bed. Before I go, I pull the sheet up, covering her naked body so she won’t get cold, and then I shut all the curtains and keep the lights off while I grab my phone and head for the bathroom. I quickly Google what to do for amigraine and grab a washcloth so I can wet it with cold water. When I’ve read enough to get me started, I throw on a pair of sweats and walk back out, keeping the door cracked so there’s enough light for me to see. I’m careful to not make any noise in case she’s fallen asleep. She curls into an even tighter ball, and when she moves the pillow so she can cup her head, I sit down next to her.
“Here, try this.” I very gently put the cold cloth on her forehead, and the first thing she does is pull it lower so it’s also covering her eyes. “Do you have any nausea?” I ask.
“So much,” she mutters, and I can tell she’s regretting all that pizza we ate last night, and the seconds we ate at around three in the morning.
“Let me know if you’re going to be sick. I’ll help you to the bathroom.” She groans in embarrassment, but helping her isn’t gross to me. She could literally do anything in front of me and it wouldn’t change a thing about how I feel about her.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell her again, and then I run out to the kitchen to get some bottles of water and a sleeve of crackers just in case she decides she can stomach something. I also grab the extra strength Tylenol in case it’ll help. When I come back, she refuses the crackers with a grimace, but I do convince her to drink a little bit of the water and take the Tylenol.
“You don’t have to waste your day like this,” she tries to tell me, but I quickly put a stop to that nonsense.
“I love you, and I want to take care of you. This isn’t a waste of my day. I’m just glad you’re here so I can help. Yet another reason for you to move in. I hate to think about you alone like this.”
“I’ve just learned to sleep through them. I get them on and off, usually every few months.”
She talks to me slowly and with a soft voice while her hand rests on her head, keeping the washcloth in place as she stayscurled up on her side. I pull up another cover and brush her hair out of the way.
“Do you think you could comfortably rest your head on my thigh?” I ask her. “I want to try something.”
“Maybe, but I can’t move around a lot, and I’m gonna try really hard to not be sick on you.”
“I appreciate that.”
She can tell I’m joking because when I sit down next to her, she says, “Can’t laugh. Too sick.”
“Come here, baby.” I rest an arm on her shoulder, letting her know I’m ready when she is. Her movements are slow, and every second highlights the amount of pain she’s in. She might be talking to me and keeping up the illusion that she’s okay, but it’s obvious she’s not. When she’s almost in position, she pauses, taking a few calming breaths while I very gently keep the washcloth against her forehead.
