Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Weak. You’re so weak. You’re always going to be weak.
Darby’s face swims into view, and her cool hands are on my forehead again, the lightest, softest touch. “Do you want a hot bath? A cold cloth? Something else? I don’t know what to do.”
“F—fine. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine! You need a doctor. Or the hospital.” Her brows bunch together. “That’s it. I’m packing us up, and we’re going.”
I grasp her wrist. Gently, though, never to hurt her. “No.” All the desperation I don’t want to leach out bleeds out into that word anyway. I hate it, but Darby softens.
“You need to talk to me, Leon. I’m scared. Do you take medication?”
“No.”
“What is it then? What’s going on? Will you have some ibuprofen? Something for your stomach? We have a whole medicine cabinet stocked here.”
I feel like if I give her something to do, she’ll stop threatening me with the hospital, which is the last thing I need. “Fine.” The word hurts. My lips feel raw, and my mouth still tastes horrendous.
Darby walks around the kitchen, and I close my eyes. The tap runs above me. She’s back a few seconds later with two pills on her palm and a glass of water. I take them and put them on my tongue. I want to choke immediately, but I swallow them dry in hopes they won’t come back up. I decline the water. She doesn’t like it, but she sets it aside, and a moment later, there’s something cool and wet on my forehead. I keep my eyes closed, but her fingers are pressing at my bottom lip. Not hard. So, so soft. My tongue peeks out despite myself, and the first lick floods my mouth with the taste of heaven. A mint. She’s trying to put a mint in my mouth. I open and let her do it. The taste of mint is so, so much better than anything. Just that small, first suck against it settles down the roiling ache twisting my guts into chaos.
“I can massage your temples if you like.”
“That would make it worse.” Lies. But I can’t stand her touch—soft, fleeting. More painful than all the pain of my life, more soothing than anything I’ve ever known. It’s killing me. She’s not real. Mortification fills me. I’m an embarrassment, and this makes me weak, weak, weak. “Just go for a walk.”
“What do you mean a walk?”
Every word is like death, like a death blow to my skull. “Leave. Now.”
“I’m not leaving. Maybe this room, but not the cabin. If you want me to shut up, you had better tell me what you need, and it’s not nothing.”
“You’re annoying and obnoxious.”
“Isn’t that what all spouses think of each other?” A pause. Then, a swallow louder than a gunshot and breaths louder than the howl of the wind on a storm-wrecked night. Wrecked. I am wrecked. My head is tearing in half. “How long?”
“Hours. Maybe days.” I don’t know why I tell her. That voice doesn’t sound like me. Maybe I’m finally having one of those cheesy out-of-body experiences, minus the cheese. This one hurts too much for cheese. Getting out of my body sounds like a good idea right now.
“Days?”
“It’s not so bad. Probably hours this time.”
“This time?” Darby gasps.
“Please. Leave.”
“When I asked you if you had a medical condition, why did you say no if there were other times?”
“Headaches aren’t a medical condition.” I swallow past the bile rising up in my throat. “Please. Stop. Talking. Or I’ll vomit again.”
“Okay.” Then, Darby lets out the longest sigh. “Can I help you to bed?”
“No.” I can make it. Any longer sitting here, and she’s going to make good on her threats and call for a freaking ambulance just like my sister did.
It takes more strength than I have in me, but I’ve always been good at dipping into that reserve and drawing on it when I need to. That’s how I survived. I force myself up, and even though I waver, I don’t let Darby help me. I wobble down the hallway, lurching and stumbling, but it’s not a big cabin, thank freaking god, and I eventually throw myself down onto the bed. My cheek hits the pillow, and lookee here. I even manage to get myself into it the right way.
Pain like red-hot knives stabs into my skull over and over. Acid crawls up the back of my throat again, and I gag. The bed dips, and Darby’s ready with a fresh, clean trashcan, but I can’t. I won’t. I will not be this weak in front of her again. I swallow hard, convulsively, over and over again, forcing my body to calm the fuck down.
“I don’t know what to do.” She sounds like she’s the one in pain, but that’s all wrong. I hate this. I hate that I’m causing her pain. I only ever wanted to protect her, protect all of them.