Page 103 of Play Pretend

“Migraine.”

“Oh, shit,” Gracie said. “You haven’t had one in so long.” I nodded, then winced. “Go home. Get some sleep.”

“I’m okay. I can?—”

“Go home,” she said again, more firmly.

“Come on, shortcake. I’ll drive you.”

“I’m really fine,” I told them, but they ignored me.

“Make sure she takes her medicine,” she said to Ronan. “She conveniently forgets?—”

“It makes me feel all loopy,” I countered.

“Because you fight your sleep on it.” I rolled my eyes at the scolding note in her voice. “It makes her sleep through her migraine so she’s not in pain.”

“What’s it called?” he asked, and Gracie told him. She’d helped me a few times when my migraines were debilitating, so she was well aware of what the medication was called and what to do to help. “What else?”

“Make sure her room is dark and cold. She has a migraine hat in her fridge—did you remember to put it in there?”

“Yes, Mom,” I mumbled.

“It’s bright pink, you can’t miss it. Make her wear it, and make sure she drinks plenty of water. And try not to cook anything or burn candles. Smells really bother her.”

“You know, I am a grown woman, right?” I said. The bright light nearly blinded me as I glared between them. The pounding in my head got worse, I winced again. “I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can, sweetheart,” he said gently. “But you have me now. You don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

That shut me up.

Maybe he felt the shift last night, too.

Gracie gathered my things, and Ronan shielded my eyes from the sunlight as we walked outside. “Foot up, baby.” His voice was as gentle as his hold on me as he helped me into his truck. “Just keep your eyes closed.”

He tossed my stuff in the backseat before starting the truck up. His hand rested on my thigh the entire drive home, and when we got there, he led me to his bedroom instead of the guest room.

“I have blackout curtains in here,” he explained as he pulled back the blankets on his bed. “And my bed is comfier. What PJs do you want?”

“I can—” Nausea bubbled in my stomach, and I rested my hand over my mouth.

Without a word, he lifted me and took me to the bathroom. The cold tiles bit into my knees as he lifted the lid of the toilet for me.

“Get—” Before the words could come out, I retched into the toilet and groaned.

This was so embarrassing.

He crouched beside me and rested his hand on my back. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’m here.”

“I wish you weren’t,” I groaned.

“Oh.”

I pried my eyes open at the sadness in his voice and peered up at him. “Because I don’t want you to see me like this,” I rasped. “It’s gross and embarrassing.”

His lips twitched. “Trust me, I’ve seen worse.”

I retched again, groaning as the pounding in my head got worse. He stayed by my side the entire time, rubbing soothing circles on my back and holding my hair away from my face.

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