Page 105 of These Pucking Boys

“Okay.”

The idea of being in my apartment alone and in misery doesn’t appeal to me though. I hate feeling weak and needy, but he offered.

“I’ll come to your place. But I need to check on the pets first. Also, the cupcakes are in your fridge, and we need to decorate them.”

“Don’t worry about the pets or the cupcakes. I’ll take care of them.” Ryan puts all my things back in my purse, then helps me to my feet. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah. Why? Did you want to carry me?” I smirk, trying to distract myself from how awful I feel.

“It wouldn’t be a chore if it weren’t for my shoulder.” He smiles back, keeping my hand firmly clasped in his.

I shake my head. “You’re sweet, Ryan.”

He chuckles. “That’s new.”

“What is?”

“I’ve never been called sweet before.”

I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes. “Never?”

He shrugs with his good shoulder. “No. Maybe because I’m an ass to most people.”

“I don’t believe that.”

He toys with a strand of my hair. “Believe me, Peaches. I’m only sweet with you.”

Be still my heart. Not even my current wretched state can prevent me from feeling all warm and fuzzy inside.

“Why?” I look into his eyes. I’m not looking for a declaration of eternal love. I’m not insane enough to expect that from any of them. But I’m curious.

He holds my stare for a moment, then grins. “You bring out the best in me, I guess.”

I don’t know how to respond to that. I always believed the core of every successful relationship was the ability to bring out the best in the other person. Ryan might not realize how romantic he sounds.

I’m still tongue tied when we arrive at his apartment, but now it has more to do with excruciating cramps than anything else. I make a beeline for the couch and collapse there as if this were my place. I suppose I’ve achieved a new level of intimacy with him, now that I’ve fucked his brains out a few times.

“How are you feeling?” He walks over.

“Lousy. I’m in a lot of pain.”

“Do you take anything?”

“I already did, but it barely makes a difference. I’m used to suffering through.”

“I don’t accept that. Hold on.”

I watch him leave until I can’t see him anymore. I’d have to lean up on my elbows to find out where he’s going, but I don’t have the strength. I just close my eyes and try to think of something nice.

A few minutes later, I sense Ryan’s return and open my eyes again. He has a hot water bottle and a steamy mug in his hands.

“What’s in the mug?”

“Chamomile tea. I read online that it can help. This too.” He lifts the bottle.

Maybe it’s the hormones screwing with my emotions, but tears fill my eyes. “Thank you.”

“Can I?” He motions to help me with the bottle.

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