Page 133 of Should the Sky Fall

Dawson drifts off with a smile on his face, Donut stretched across his thighs and a coil of warmth in his chest.

It’s evening when Dawson wakes up, his headache nothing more than a mild throbbing in his temples. Cal’s hands totally worked some magic on him. When he can’t find him or Donut anywhere, he assumes they’ve gone for a walk.

He uses the time to take a shower and change into his pjs. By the time he emerges from the bathroom, Cal and Donut have come back. Donut makes a beeline for him once he’s off the leash.

“Hello, you. Yes, yes, I’m up.”

“How are you feeling?” Cal asks, looking him over.

Dawson gives him a tired smile. “Much better. The massage definitely helped.”

“That’s good. I wasn’t sure if you’d sleep through the night, so I didn’t order anything. And I didn’t trust myself to cook dinner.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Are you hungry?”

“A little. I’ll just have an avo toast or something. That’s usually my go-to migraine food.”

“Oh, I can make that,” Cal says eagerly. “You rest. I’ll get it ready.”

Dawson shakes his head fondly. It’s not bad to be fussed over, once he’s gotten used to it.

He obediently takes a seat on the sofa, Donut joining him after slurping down half of his water bowl.

“Do you want to watch something?”

“Is that okay for your head?” Cal checks.

“Yeah, that’s all good. Maybe no explosions or singing, but anything else is fine.”

“Sure, why not.”

They eat their toasts on the sofa for a change, while watchingShark Tale. Dawson’s seen it several times, so it doesn’t matter that he’s not really paying attention, too drowsy to be fully awake. It only gets worse after he finishes the food, all the blood rushing to his stomach, and he starts to doze off again.

Cal notices, of course, and keeps bugging him until Dawson relents and returns to the bedroom. He manages to stay awake long enough to brush his teeth, but goes straight to bed afterwards, Donut on his heels.

“Are you coming to bed?” he asks Cal.

“Not yet. I’m not tired.”

“Okay.” He yawns. “Goodnight.” He burrows under the covers, letting his eyes drift shut. He feels Cal’s lips brush his forehead, murmuring ‘goodnight’.

He sleeps like a baby.

The aroma of something sweet and spicy gently pulls Dawson back to reality. He sits up with a grin, his stomach rumbling. God, he’s craving carbs.

He’s surprised to find Donut gone. Hopefully, Cal’s not feeding him whatever he’s making. Dawson refuses to deal with a dog in the throes of indigestion.

Before he can gather the strength to get up and see what’s going on in the kitchen, the door opens and Cal steps in with Donut in tow. Donut barks and jumps on the bed when he sees Dawson is up. Dawson gives him obligatory cuddles, then looks at Cal, who’s smiling as he watches them, a plate of something that isn’t pancakes in his hand.

“Good morning. How are you feeling?”

“Good. But I’ll be better after I eat whateverthatis.” He can feel his mouth watering. Is that cinnamon? “Breakfast in bed. That’s new.”

Cal gives him a bashful smile, color rising to his cheeks. He hesitates before coming to sit on the edge of the bed, and Dawson finally gets a proper look at the plate.

His stomach swoops, causing him to pull in a breath.

“Is that…”

“I can’t guarantee how it’s going to taste, but I scoured every French toast recipe on Pinterest and this one had the best reviews. It probably won’t be the same as your mom used to make, but hopefully it’s edible.”