Awaken Me (The Jaded Series Book 4) (35 page)

“Chris—” Bailey starts what looks like a protest.

“I’m going to tell him. I just need some time first. Please,” I plead.

Karyn nods, and after several seconds, so does Bailey.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

They leave on silent feet. I close my eyes and try to drift off, but the image of an enraged Nick won’t let me.

Nick

I slip the key Jaxon gave me earlier into the lock and give the knob a twist. Quietly opening the door, I step across the threshold to Chris’s apartment and close it behind me. It’s dark and quiet, just like I figured it would be.

After locking the door, I flip the light on in the living room and make my way down the narrow hall to Chris’s room.

Fifteen minutes ago, I was sitting in Jaxon’s Pub waiting for Chris to start her shift. When she was ten minutes late, I asked Jaxon if he knew why Chris wasn’t there yet. He told me she wouldn’t be in because she was stuck in bed with a migraine. I got a key to her apartment and immediately decided to check on her.

When I pull open the door, the light from the hallway shines in. My brows pull down into a frown when I see the bed is empty. A moan from the other side of the bed has me quickly moving that way. My heart drops into my stomach when I see Chris huddled on the floor, rocking.

I rush to her side and get down on my haunches.

“Sugar, what are you doing down there?” I ask, and gather her sweaty body in my arms.

Instead of answering, she moans, “Bathroom,” and puts her hand to her mouth.

“Okay, baby. We’re going.”

She clutches my shirt as I lift her easily and walk briskly to the bathroom. I know what she needs. From the light in the living room I can practically see the green on her face.

I set her down in front of the toilet and she immediately bends over the basin and releases the contents of her stomach. I gather her hair in my hand to make sure she doesn’t get any in it. Each retching sound she makes knots my stomach. Not because of the sounds or smell, but because I know she’s in pain. Seeing her like this tears me up inside.

Once she’s finished, she lays her arms across the toilet and rests her head on top of them. I find a washcloth in the linen closet in the hallway, wet it, and place it across her neck. Next, I go to the kitchen for a cup of water. When I make it back to the bathroom, she has her back resting against wall, her knees drawn up to her chest, with her head resting against them.

I squat down in front of her. “Chris, baby, I’ve got you some water.”

At first I don’t think she hears me, but after several seconds, she lifts her head and peers at me through tiny slits. I blanch at the color of her face. She’s as pale as a fucking ghost. Her face is also drenched in sweat and she has dark rings around her eyes.

“Lights,” she whispers.

I stretch back and flip the switch.

Once the bathroom is mostly in darkness, she reaches out with shaky hands for the cup of water. I help bring it to her lips and she swallows several mouthfuls.

“Thanks,” she croaks, I’m sure with a sore throat.

“Do you need more pain pills?” At her nod, I open the medicine cabinet and pull out a bottle and shake two in my palm. She downs them with the glass of water. “Are you good or do you think you’ll have to go again?”

It takes her a moment before she mutters, “Mouthwash.”

I nod and help her up. She leans against the counter and grabs the bottle of mouthwash on the small shelf by the sink. I take it from her and pour a small amount in the cap, before handing it to her. She tips it back and swirls it around her mouth for a good thirty seconds, then spits it out and rinses with water.

When she’s done, I bend and pick her up. She settles her head against my neck and releases a sigh. I place her on the bed and go back for the rag. I rewet it with cold water before walking back to Chris’s room. She’s on her side with her eyes closed. When I place it on her forehead, her eyes crack open.

“Thank you,” she whispers, barely loud enough for me to hear.

I sit on the bed beside her. “How often do you get these?”

“Up until recently, very rarely.”

“Do you know what’s causing them now?” I ask.

She shifts her eyes away from mine and to the wall across from her. The move shouldn’t have looked anything but innocent, but I saw the flash of apprehension in her eyes before she could hide it.

“What? What is it?” I reach out and push away the sticky hair on her neck.

“Nothing,” she mumbles, still not meeting my eyes. “It’s probably just stress from work.”

For some reason I don’t think that’s it, but I leave it for now. I’ll ask her about it once she’s feeling better.

“Do you need anything?”

“Yes,” she answers, bringing her pain-filled gaze back to mine. “Will you lie with me?”

It never even crosses my mind to deny her. I’d do anything to bring her comfort. Watching her suffer does something to my insides. If lying with her helps ease the pain, nothing would keep me away.

I bend and remove my boots and socks. Next, I stand and take my jacket and shirt off, then my jeans, leaving me in just my boxers. She watches through slit eyes while I undress. I walk around to the other side of the bed and gently climb in behind her, so as not to jar her. I wrap my arms around her waist and flatten my body against her warm one. She releases a sigh and relaxes against me.

We lie in the dark without speaking for a while. I think she’s fallen asleep, until she speaks.

“How did you know?” she asks the room.

“Jaxon.” I use my bristled chin to move some of her hair away from the crook of her neck and plant my face there. “I was in the bar waiting on you to start your shift. When you didn’t show, I asked Jaxon. He said you called off.”

“Hmm.” she hums. “How did you get in?”

“He gave me a key.” I tell her cautiously, not sure how she’ll take me having a key to her place.

I get another hum in reply. She either doesn’t care or is in too much pain to care at the moment.

“Are the headaches why you didn’t want me coming over those couple days last week?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you talked with your doctor about them?” I flatten my palm against her stomach and rub soft circles there.

She stiffens in my arms for a moment, but then relaxes again. Before I get a chance to ask her if she’s going to be sick again, she answers my question.

“No. I used to get them a lot as a kid, but the older I got, the farther apart they came. As an adult I only got them maybe once or twice a year. I used to get prescriptions for them but didn’t see the point anymore, because the chance of it expiring was more likely than me actually needing it.”

“Well, you’re getting them more now. I think you should make an appointment. There’s no sense suffering like this if you don’t have to.”

“Yeah.”

She’s quiet for a few minutes, then asks, “Why do you call me Sugar?”

With my nose in her neck, I pull in a deep lungful of air. Even now, all sweaty, she smells like sugar cookies, with a hint of vanilla.

“Did you just smell me?” she asks, yawning. I can hear the smile in her voice.

“Mmmhmm… You smell like sugar cookies. I like the smell.”

“There is no way I smell like sugar cookies right now,” she says with a chuckle. “I’m icky.”

“But you do.” I kiss the back of her neck. It’s nothing sexual. I’m just glad she seems to be feeling better. Seeing her on the floor when I first walked in is something I don’t ever want to experience again.

“Whatever,” she mumbles tiredly and digs deeper into the bed.

“Go to sleep, Sugar.” I smile into her neck.

“Hmm.”

I feel her relax even more against me. I tighten my arms around her and bury my face back in her neck. It’s not long before I hear her breaths even out. A few minutes later, I drift off as well.

The next morning I’m in the kitchen finishing up frying bacon and eggs when I hear a noise behind me. I look over my shoulder and see Chris standing in the doorway. She looks better than she did last night, but she still has rings around her eyes. I heard her go into the bathroom about fifteen minutes ago. She must have gotten in the shower because her hair is wet and she has on fresh clothes.

“How are you feeling?” I turn back to take the finished bacon and eggs off the burners before placing the tongs on the counter.

“Much better,” she says, her voice low.

When I walk over to her and put my arms around her waist, I feel her tense. Pulling back, I look down at her. Her eyes are downcast, avoiding mine.

I tip her face up with a knuckle. “What’s wrong?”

Reluctantly she brings her eyes to mine. Something’s off. She seems troubled and withdrawn. She has her hands on my waist, but any other time she would have them wrapped around me. She’s leaning against me, but she’s stiff and there’s still distance between us. Normally she would be flush against me, like she can’t get close enough.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just still have a bit of a headache, that’s all.”

I can tell she’s not telling the truth by the way her eyes shift from mine when she talks.

What the hell?

“You’re lying,” I state. I see the grimace before she can wipe it away.

“I promise, Nick. My head still hurts a bit and my stomach hasn’t quite settled yet. And I’m worried about Noah from school.”

I’m still not sure if I believe her. I know she’s got to still be feeling the effects of her migraine and the green hasn’t completely left her face, but she hasn’t held my gaze for more than a couple seconds since she’s walked into the kitchen. However, this is the second time she’s brought up the kid from school. Maybe she’s telling the truth, but I think there’s more to it.

“You still haven’t been able to get in touch with the mom?”

“No,” she says with a sigh and fiddles with the shirt over my abs. “I’ve tried a couple more times with no luck. I was going to ask you if you could go with me next week sometime to his house.”

She peeks up at me through her lashes. I still see something hidden in their depths, but again I don’t call her out on it. If she has something going on and she wants me to know about it, she’ll tell me. Our relationship doesn’t really scream “tell me all your secrets.” Although, at this moment, I want to demand just that. It both irritates and scares me that I feel that way. I’m not supposed to have those types of feelings toward her.

“I told you I would,” I tell her, my voice harsher than I wanted. Her eyes flash with hurt, and I want to knock myself upside the head. My attitude is the last thing she needs right now. I can’t help but feel slighted by the way she’s acting though. “Just tell me the day and time.”

I let her go and walk over to the cabinet with the plates and get a couple out. Her rigid voice stops me.

“I told you, you don’t have to go with me. I can go by myself or find someone else.”

I whip around to face her, not hiding the scowl on my face. Her eyes are narrowed as she rests one hand on the counter and the other on her hip.

“And I told you I would. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to go.” I turn back around, ending the discussion there.

“Could have fooled me,” she mutters irritably.

I throw some bacon and eggs on a plate and drop it in front of her. I plant my hands on the counter and lean toward her. “Want to tell me what your problem is? And don’t give me the same bullshit about not feeling well and that kid at school. I know it’s something more.”

All of a sudden her face goes ghostly white. Her eyes widen and sweat pops up on her forehead. She throws a hand to her mouth and dashes off toward the bathroom. I race after her and make it to the bathroom just as she starts puking her brains out again. Gathering her hair in one hand, I use the other to rub her back. My gut twists right along with hers.

Once she’s finished, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and leans back against the wall with a moan. I refill the glass from last night and give it to her.

“Guess breakfast is out,” I say with a quirk of my lips and squat down in front of her.

“Sorry.” She tries for a smile but doesn’t quite make it.