Page 35 of Dark Love

Dahlia

Why can’t I hear the fan? I always need it on in order to sleep…

My eyes pop open. “It wasn’t a dream.”

“No Dahlia. It wasn’t a dream.” Vex is still sitting in the chair next to the bed, only instead of a baseball game, there’s football on.

“How long have you been sitting there?” The bowl of popcorn is empty and so is his glass.

“A couple of hours.”

Hours. I fell asleep for hours! And he’s been there the entire time, watching over me.

“Are you ready to eat a little something?”

Am I? My mind feels a bit more stable than before, even if last night is still missing. The nausea has abated, but there’s a vast crater in my stomach. “I think so.” But an urgent need makes itself known.

What am I going to do? Will my legs even hold me up as I walk over there? The blanket has thwarted me every time I’ve tried to move it.

What am I going to do? Ask for help. Every part of my body blushes. There’s no way I’m asking the sexiest and scariest man I’ve ever met to help me to the bathroom. Nope. I’ll die first.

That sentiment doesn’t have quite the same effect now that it almost happened to me.

What am I going to do?

“Are you feeling worse? Your face is all flushed.”

You could say that, but it’s not what you think.

“I should check your temperature, but Barb didn’t leave a thermometer.”

He’s going to make me say it. Seriously. Out loud.

Vex reaches into his pocket.

“No.”

He freezes.

“Ijustneedtogotothebathroom,” I mutter as quietly as humanly possible.

The phone slips back into his pocket.

Shouldn’t he be almost deaf from working at a club and listening to insanely loud music all the time?

“The bathroom is through there.” He points to a door a few feet from where the bed is.

Those few feet could be a dozen miles as tired as I am. Can I do it? What do I do if my body is incapable of taking me where I need to go?

Baby steps.

Just take it one step at a time and see what you can do.

The first challenge is this lovely, warm but exceptionally heavy blanket. Will my jelly arms work this time? It’s been hours. How long does it take for this drug to get out of my system?

My bladder screams, leaving me no time to think about the problem. I reach for the blanket and hope for the best. “Why is this so heavy?” My hands work, but it’s a challenge lifting what should be easy.

“It’s a weighted blanket.” He reaches out and helps me lift it away, careful not to touch a single part of me. How can anyone think this man is bad?

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