Page 97 of Carry On

I fell into the motions of taking care of him without hesitation while I called Alma into the room. Blindfold down, headphones snug, shirt rolled up. I sat next to him, fingers laced with his in a simple gesture of support.

“Is he okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. “It’s just a crappy migraine.”

That was putting it mildly.

“You know,” she began as she set up next to his left arm, “we have a great migraine bag—”

“No,” I cut her off. “Just what we discussed.”

While I appreciated her drive to upsell, I wouldn’t do that to Nash. I wasn’t deviating from what I’d promised him. Having his trust mattered to me.

“He’s lucky to have you,” Alma commented, giving me a small smile when she glanced up from finding a vein.

“No, I’m the lucky one,” I told her without hesitation.

She prattled on about how cute we were together and a list of other things I barely processed. My mind was elsewhere as something uncomfortable blossomed in my chest. Something deeply instinctual.

A red flag of all the things I shouldn’t be feeling.

CHAPTER 65

NASH

Otherthanawickedneed to take a piss, I felt okay. According to the alarm clock, it was early, but I couldn’t stay in bed another minute. The headache was gone, and I was restless. I splashed cold water on my face and combed my fingers through my tangled hair. I looked like hell, but at least I didn’t feel like it thanks to Lincoln.

I wasn’t used to being taken care of like this. I was used to struggling it out wherever I was without knowing what might happen to me in the process. Lincoln wanting to take care of me was… nice.

Obligated to take care of you, the voice commented.

I sighed and closed my eyes, frustrated at how it ebbed its way to the surface. It had been silent when I woke up, and a tiny, optimistic part of me had hoped for a reprieve. To hope was such a stupid thing. I just wasn’t that lucky.

I blew out a long breath and forced myself out of the bedroom. Lincoln hurried around the living room, gathering the files and paperwork he had spread out between the coffee table and the dining table. He looked good in his fancy fucking suit, a little frazzled but good.

Something foreign weaseled its way through my chest. Something akin to fondness. Maybe. I wasn’t used to the feeling.

“Oh. Hi.” He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” I replied with a slight shake of my head. “I don’t think I could sleep any fucking longer.”

“Understandable,” Lincoln said. He went back to packing up his briefcase as he spoke. “I have to go to court today. I can’t push it back. After that, I have to go into the office to catch up on work. I’m hoping that I won’t be too late, but I might be. I’ll have my personal phone on me—I’m sorry.”

He stopped, stood upright, and blew out a slow breath.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“A lot better than you, I think,” I replied. “Do you need any help with… whatever the fuck you’ve got going on here?”

“I was up late working…everywhere,” he told me, waving around the room. Even as he spoke, he gathered the last few pieces of scattered papers.

“Clearly.”

“I had so much shit to catch up on.”

That’s your fault,the voice said.

Yeah, it probably was, considering everything he’d done for me.