Page 75 of Pitcher Perfect

Charity:does he know Mom grew up there? That’s got to count for something, right?

Caleb:I haven’t had a chance to tell him because he won’t take my calls and he treats my truck like it’s radioactive

Charity:shit. Well he can’t run tonight so [fingers crossed emoji]

Caleb:[fingers crossed emoji]

* * *

I tiltedmy head back and yawned for the millionth time already. It wasn’t even ten in the morning, and my body felt like I’d run a marathon after working my truck at a three-day music festival. The headache I’d woken up with steadily intensified. Since I’d closed the truck for the day to do all the prep for the chamber event and slept in a little, I shouldn’t be so tired. It was probably stress getting to me.How the hell am I going to get through the day?The chamber event didn’t start until six, and I had a ton of prep and cooking to do before it started.

I leaned back against the fridge for support and surveyed the kitchen I hoped would soon be mine. Mabel had worked her magic to get Ambrose to let me borrow the empty kitchen. With my body feeling like it was full of lead and my brain fuzzy from interrupted sleep and stress, I couldn’t even appreciate having a taste of the space. Each time I imagined running my own restaurant in there, the hustle and bustle of a thriving business, how I would organize everything, balancing that with my catering business, the picture blurred.

It had to be lack of sleep making me feel like I was suffering through a redo of the hangover I’d had after my twenty-first birthday. I’d tossed and turned all night. After sleeping like a rock in Austin’s arms the night before, I couldn’t get comfortable last night. Waking up yesterday morning with his arm hooked over my waist and dark hair against my white pillowcase had been incredible.

As the morning passed, a pounding in the left side of my skull throbbed with increasing intensity. My usually sharp knife skills were worse than on my first day of culinary school.Shit.I’d forgotten to take the eggs out of the fridge to let them reach room temperature. It was a one-eighty from yesterday, where I’d knocked errands out in Portland like a champ. Plenty of energy after a restful night.

A while later, I looked at my phone, and it was barely noon. I forced my facial muscles to relax from my tense squinting. I must’ve been scrunching my face for ages because the whole thing ached.How the hell am I supposed to get through hours of cooking then charming the pants off a bunch of locals?I should swing by Dave’s to get a coffee.

A door closed somewhere outside the kitchen. Moments later, Frank Ambrose stood in the room’s entrance.

“Hello, Mr. Larsen.” Frank Ambrose had a white mustache, bald head, and stocky frame.

I tried to compose myself. “Hi, Mr. Ambrose. How can I help you?”

“I wanted to make sure you had all you need for tonight. This is a major event for the chamber, and I want to ensure there are no hiccups.” Distrust in my ability to deliver laced his every word.

With the growing pain in my head, I didn’t have the time or patience to play nice. My normally frenetic pace had turned sloth-like. Suppressing another jaw-splitting yawn hurt like a pinch to my eyeballs.

“I understand the importance of tonight. I’m invested in Dahlia Springs and know the chamber works hard to help all the businesses. Don’t worry. I’ll be there with amazing food and make sure the local business owners have a great time.”

He took a step into the kitchen and turned off the overhead lights. As soon as he did, I let out a sigh of relief.

“You were squinting,” he said by way of explanation.

I blinked a few times. The pressure squeezing my brain was still there, but my eyes weren’t as tense.

“Thanks. I probably should’ve thought to do that.” Fortunately, I could work with the natural light.

“Do you ever get migraines?”

It took me a moment to follow his words. I rubbed at my temple. “Migraines?” Everything slowly fell into place like a Tetris piece. My energy yesterday, the sleepless night, body aches, yawning, pain behind my eyes—the works. “Shit.”

He chuckled, a sound I hadn’t thought I would hear from the distrustful older man. “My late wife used to get them. I learned to spot the signs when she was too uncomfortable to notice them herself.”

A tinge of pain hit me that had nothing to do with the looming migraine. I nodded at him. “Thank you. I was so focused, I missed the signs. Obvious now that you point it out.” I felt embarrassed. Not the first impression I wanted to make.

“Do you have medication you can take? My wife always took pills when the yawning and light sensitivity started. It never knocked them out but helped her remain functional.”

I’m such a fucking idiot.In the flurry of moving my home and business, I hadn’t thought about transferring my prescription from the pharmacy I used in Portland to Dahlia Springs. Even if I had the time to go to Portland and get a refill, I wasn’t fit to drive that far. I doubted my doctor’s office would get a new one over to the local pharmacy fast enough for it to make a difference.

“I’ve got a prescription, yeah. Thanks for the reminder.” If I kept the lights off and forced some water down, I could push through. Ihadto push through.What other option is there?I could ask Austin to pick up something over the counter to take the edge off.

He didn’t look like he believed me, but he didn’t push. “I’ll leave you to it then. Good luck tonight.” With a nod, he departed.

After I heard the restaurant door close behind him, I let out a frustrated groan and immediately regretted it. Jabbing shards of glass in my temple would hurt less. I needed to get the prescription sorted before the competition so I didn’t end up in trouble again.

I looked at the pile of onions I needed to finish chopping. Using the knife was an accident waiting to happen. I needed some medication.It’s okay to ask for help. It’s just a quick errand. If he can’t do it, he’ll ask Ty or Dom to.I grabbed my phone and fumbled to turn the brightness all the way down, but it was still too much.Just ask for help. It won’t kill you, but trying to use a knife with a migraine might.

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