Lightning bolts crack through my groin. Needle sharp. White hot.
Inhale. Hold. Don’t scream. It’s not that bad. You’re fine. It could be worse. It’s going away. Don’t move.
“Andrea.”
Breathe out. Slow. Steady your voice so he doesn’t freak out. Because you’re fine. It’s tolerable. Nothing more than you’re used to.
Spasms— not like a climax. Like a charley horse. Violent. Stabbing. Uncontrollable.
Hold your breath and move. Move. Move. MOVE.
I tuck my foot under myself, my heel digging into my crotch. My body sags in relief… but it’s short-lived.
This hurts. Really fucking hurts.
Do something. Take something. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop?—
Firm hands grasp my shoulders.
Seba’s concerned eyes search mine.
“What’s going on, baby girl?”
It takes my brain a second to come back online. Saliva turns to sand in my mouth.
“Nothing… I’m just… flaring up a little.”
“A little?”
Yeah, he’s not buying it.
“I’ll be fine.”
I’m not even remotely close to fine.
He glares at me. “Be so for real.”
I momentarily forget the firestorm raging through my lower half as a surprised laugh escapes. “Please never say that again.”
He struggles to maintain his stern glare. “I won’t as long as you don’t lie to my face again.”
My nature demands me to push him away— to lick my wounds alone in my depressing apartment. But for some reason… I ignore it. His touch is too soothing, his presence so grounding. I’m drawn forward…
“I wasn’t lying.”
Brown eyes dip to my mouth. “Stubborn woman,” he whispers, breath tickling my lips. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to watch you suffer and not be able to do anything about it?”
I fight through the agony, my voice raw as I rasp, “If you could… do something about it… what would you do?”
“I’ve got a few ideas,” he murmurs. Mint and faint cigarette smoke. “But all of them require you to trust me.”
He’s asking me to jump off a cliff with no safety net. I’ve been alone— so completely and utterly alone in this battle. I’m beaten down, bruised and bitter. Fear and doubt have their claws in my mind. They’ve pitted me against my body and convinced me I deserve the pain. That I caused it and I’ll never escape it.
But here is this man— this quiet, immovable force— begging to scoop up my rotting corpse like I don’t reek of despair.
My trembling fingers skim the stubble on his cheek.
“I think I can do that.”
