After a few seconds, she gets into the same position she was in, except her head is now on my thigh. I pull the covers that have fallen back up and carefully brush her hair away from her face and neck.
“Tell me if this doesn’t feel good, and I’ll try something else, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispers.
With a featherlight touch, I gently move the washcloth out of the way and then start to massage her face and head. Much like I’d done last night when I’d first slid into her, I pay attention to every noise she makes, every micro-expression, letting her guide me without her having to say a word. When her brows furrow, I quickly change direction, and when I feel her body relax and the tension leave her face, I repeat the movement until she relaxes even more. She lets out a sigh of relief when I hit the base of her neck.
It feels good to be able to do this for her, even if it isn’t as much as I wish I could do, and when I hear the change in her breathing and feel the way her body completely relaxes, I feel a surge of pride at having eased her pain enough so she could fall asleep. I keep softly rubbing her neck for a few more minutes, and then stop so I don’t wake her. I’m not about to risk moving, so I grab one of the iPads I always keep on my nightstand and check on a few things while Savanna sleeps.
After a couple of hours, my bladder is screaming at me, and when she rolls off me and onto the pillow, I take advantage of it and use the bathroom. She’s still in a heavy sleep when I get out, and I take a few seconds to admire the sight of her in my bed. The covers slid down enough to bare one of her shoulders, and just the sight of those few inches of skin is enough to make my dick twitch. Yeah, I’ve got it bad, and I couldn’t be happier about it.
Keeping the door open so I’ll hear her if she needs me, I head to the kitchen and make myself a coffee and then heat up some leftover pizza. I eat it standing at the counter and then do a quick sweep of my cupboards just in case there’s a can of soup I’ve somehow forgotten about. My kitchen is embarrassingly bare, so I grab my phone and start placing a grocery order. I get a bunch of staples that most people always keep on hand, and then I add in some easy things I can cook for supper. To top it all off, I add in all the usualI feel like shitfoods like chicken noodle soup, bananas, rice, ginger ale, and peppermint tea. I throw in some cookie dough ice cream in case she’s feeling better later and wants a treat.
While I wait for it to be delivered, I send a text to Sasha.
ME:
Van has a migraine. Can you ask Cindy how long they usually last or if there’s anything I can do to help her?
Sasha:
Hang on. I’m giving the phone to Cyn. It’ll be easier that way.
Sasha:
Hey, Niki! This is Cindy. What’s going on?
ME:
Van has a migraine. She’s sleeping now, but she woke up feeling like shit. What can I do to make it go away?
She doesn’t send another text. Instead, she FaceTimes me. When I accept the call, the first thing I see is Cindy’s smiling face and Sasha’s unreadable one.
“Hey,” I tell them. “So what should I do?”
It’s Cindy who answers, but she ignores my question and instead asks, “So Sav’s over there? She woke up with you?”
The excitement in her voice is impossible to miss, so is the sparkle in her eyes and the way she’s not-discreetly-at-all elbowing Sasha.
“She is and she did,” I say. “And she woke up with a horrible migraine,” I remind her, trying to get back to the reason for the call.
Cindy nods, some of the excitement dying at knowing her best friend is in pain. “She usually sleeps through them. Nothing really helps. She doesn’t want to take the really strong drugs forthem because of all the awful side effects. Usually she turns out the lights, puts a cold washcloth on her head and sleeps.”
“I’ve done all that. She’s sleeping now. I ordered her some groceries in case she still feels nauseous later,” I tell her. “I was hoping there was more I could do.”
“That’s really sweet,” Cindy says, getting that dreamy tone to her voice again. She turns her head to Sasha. “Isn’t that sweet?”
Sasha doesn’t miss a beat. “Niki’s a sweetheart.”
I roll my eyes at the grin he’s fighting. “She’s agreed to move in with me,” I say, making Cindy squeal and clap her hands.
“I knew it. I knew we were gonna be sisters one day,” she says, and Sasha gives her a genuine smile when she looks up at him again.
I tell them I need to go when I get a text that the groceries are here. Cindy makes me promise to have Savanna call her when she’s feeling up to it, and then Sasha asks me in Russian if I can disable some CCTV cameras from midnight to one tonight. When I tell him it won’t be a problem, he gives me the address. With one arm wrapped around his wife, he strokes her pregnant belly and tells me all about the men he’s planning on killing later. Cindy’s learning Russian, but her murder vocabulary is still weak, so she’s happily oblivious. She knows who she married, though, so maybe not quite as in the dark as she’s letting on.
Once we’ve said our goodbyes, I grab the food and put it away. Bringing some water and a Gatorade with me, I go back to check on Savanna. She’s still sleeping. I want to curl up next to her, but I’m afraid I’ll wake her, so I sit at my desk instead. Keeping my fingers light on the keyboard, I type in my password with hardly a sound. Angling my monitor so I can see Savanna’s still form on the bed and she can’t see my screen if she wakes, I quickly hack into the CCTV cameras Sasha needs me to disableand set up a bug that loops footage from 11:45 to 1:15, giving my cousin a few extra minutes in case he needs it.
Then I spend the next few hours going through my Alpha files. One of these fuckers has to be Cupid. So far I’ve gone back five years, and every name has been a dead end. It’s time consuming because I can’t make assumptions. I can’t assume that Henry Peterson isn’t our guy just because he’s the manager of his local grocery store that’s three hours away. I have to dig around in his life, hack into his emails, convince myself that a man who doesn’t know how to properly CC someone can’t be the mastermind I’m looking for. It’s a slow, frustrating process, and I’m starting to feel my own headache starting up when I hear Savanna call my name.
