Page 68
“Ah. No. I just—”
“Play nicely,” I mumble, yawning. My head is hurting a little and I freeze. This is a busier day than I normally have. “Mom, do I have any of my emergency meds at the house?”
“Yes, you should. We split them up just in case. Actually, you know what? I’ve got the kids. Zayn’ll be fine. Arran, can you drive her home? She’s going to need complete silence for a while.”
“What’s happening?” Arran asks, his eyes narrowing.
“I’m getting a migraine. I’m about to be really useless for a while. I just need to get to my bed.”
“Okay…”
I keep a smile on my face even as the pain steadily creeps in, give my son a kiss, and tell him I’ll see him in a little bit. He’s easily distracted by Liliana and Arran gets me into his car without a word. Closing my eyes, I struggle to breathe as the pounding begins and heart rate begins to rise and fall.
I feel the engine being pushed to its limits and I whimper softly.
“Isla, talk to me.”
“Head. Hurts. Need meds.”
“I don’t know where you live, baby. I’m almost at the spot where we part ways. Can you help?”
“Mm. Twenty-two Royal Street,” I mumble. It’s a big fucking deal that Rachelle suggested that Arran drive me home. I don’t know if he’s realized this yet, and I don’t know if any of my other family members will have anything to say about it later.
“Got it. Thanks, baby.”
He slows down as he continues, as if realizing that he was speeding. My eye barely opens as I find myself in front of my house, and he gets out and comes around to pick me up.
“Go through the gate.” I drop my head on his shoulder, and he puts my purse on without a thought as he locks his car. His long legs eat up the distance to the gate, and I press the code to allow him in. I’ll change it later.
Arran kisses my forehead, not asking any unnecessary questions as he walks.
“Stairs,” I whisper.
“Fancy,” he teases me, climbing them as I smile weakly. They lead straight up to my bedroom, and he uses my keys while holding me to let us in. I don’t worry about turning off the alarm because I know Theo will do that for me. He’s going to be watching the cameras while I’m home.
He doesn’t do it all of the time, but these aren’t normal circumstances. Arran lays me on the bed, pulls down all of the shades and asks me where my meds are. I know he’s going to see my arsenal of medication, but tell him what it’s called and where it is.
He doesn’t ask any questions, gives me the medication and my water, pulls off my shoes, helps me change into comfortable clothing, and then climbs into bed with me.
“What else do you need?”
“You don’t need to cater to me,” I mumble, snuggling against him, even as I shudder against the pain. I can smell something fucking burning and refuse to ask if he can smell it because I know it’s in my head.
God fucking dammit.
“Try again. What else do you need?”
“Face mask in the freezer and migraine patch in the bathroom please.”
I bury my face into the cooling pillow when he leaves, wondering if the pain will end if I hit myself in the face with a hammer. Dramatic? Not if you’re me.
I yelp when Arran’s hand touches my back, not paying attention to my surroundings as I drifted in the pain.
“Sorry, baby. I’m putting the mask on.” His hands are gentle as he pulls it on, and then he rubs the patch onto the back of my neck. The eye gel in the face mask helps as I moan pathetically, and he gets into bed with me to massage the back of my head.
“I have a barf bucket in case you need it,” he whispers. Maybe it’s just because I feel like shit, but that’s the sexiest thing he could ever say to me.
My eyes close as I drift in the rise and fall of my heart beat, a never ending adrenaline dump that mirrors a rollercoaster. It feels awful, and my body flinches even as I enter a semi conscious sleep state.
