Page 98 of Hard Rock Deceit

"Every time I start to think I'm feeling better, something even worse comesalong."

"It's been about a week and a half," I said. "The worst of it should be overbynow."

He rolled from his side ontohisback.

"I'm not as nauseous as before," he admitted. "And I don't acheeverywhere."

"That'sgood!"

I tried to keep my voice chipper and encouraging through this whole ordeal. August didn't need to deal with my anxiety and stress on top of what he was goingthrough.

He lifted himself into a seatedposition.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be a dick. I'll trythesoup."

With my heart lighter, I handed him the bowl and a spoon, and settled a portable laptop desk tray on his knees. It worked well enough as a table while he'd been stuckinbed.

"Damon said the guys are anxious toseeyou."

August paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth. His shoulders tensed, lookinguncomfortable.

"I told him to give you a few days and you'll probably be up toseeingthem."

He noddedthankfully.

When I first told him how frantic the guys were to find him, he'd looked pointedly at the broken glass in his foyer and simply raised an eyebrow as if to say,Iknow.

"I don't want them seeing me like this," he'd said. "They're used to me being a strong leader, being the responsible one who takes care of everything. Ican't—"

"I get it," I had soothed him before he could get agitated again. "But I need to at least tell them I'm with you andyou'resafe."

Damon relayed that Cameron nearly threw a fit when he learned August didn't want to see them yet. They convinced Cameron to give August time to rest and heal before the entire circus that was Darkest Days and their closest friends descendedonhim.

I didn’t tell August that when I messaged Damon, the two of us conspired against him. Damon called a doctor, a discrete one who made house calls. When the woman showed up, August almost threw her out, until I begged him to let her take a lookathim.

Luckily, she was no-nonsense. She checked up on him daily, until she finally pronounced him well enough to finish recovering on his own – as long as he had someone byhisside.

After finishing the soup, August set the empty bowl on thenightstand.

"I'm feeling a lot better now." The color returned to his cheeks as he sat up straighter. "Was thatmagicsoup?"

"It was my great-great grandmother's secret recipe passed on forgenerations."

"Really?" he asked,intrigued.

"No, not really. It's fromacan."

August must have been feeling better because he laughed, eyes sparkling with goodhumor.

"It must be your magic touch, then," he said. "I actually feel like a human beingagain."

Relief blossomed in my chest. We'd made it through theworst.

August felt well enough to get out of bed without my help. I left him when he told me he thought he could get showered and dressed byhimself.

Now that I didn't have to give August my full attention, I took in the messy state of his bedroom and blanched. Cleaning had fallen by the wayside while we'd focused on getting himthrough.

I pulled the sheets off the bed and threw them in the laundry hamper. With the hamper perched on my hip, I explored his house trying to find a laundry machine. For all I knew, August might not have even owned one, preferring instead to send out all his clothes to a cleaning service. It wouldn't have surprised me. Rich people paid for all sorts of crazy things regular people would neverdreamof.