Page 62 of Salvaged Hearts

It was only once we’d given our statements and Greyson waved off the police cruisers that we finally headed inside. A wall of fatigue hit me as the unexpected adrenaline crash knocked the strength from my limbs. Swaying a bit as I steadied myself, I caught Greyson’s concerned hazels.

“You okay?” he asked, tone still gentler than usual.

“Yeah, I think I’m just…tired. My body overreacted, and the adrenaline is wearing off now.”

“Your body getting ready to get you out of a bad situation isn’t an overreaction,” Ollie pointed out as he kicked his shoes off in the entryway. “I’ll go make us some tea. What do you like?”

“That’s awfully thoughtful of you. Thanks, Ollie.”

“Yeah,” Grey said, not sounding very thankful at all. “Thanks, asshole,” he grumbled, making me laugh even as my head spun. His brother’s grin made me make a mental note to keep Axel far away from him—the two of them wouldonlyget into trouble. But…something was wrong. A familiar disconnect between my mind and body had me chewing my lip.

Blowing out a breath, I kicked off my shoes, not flinching away when Greyson reached out a hand to steady me. The concern in his eyes had me bristling as I straightened, pulling in a long breath.

My body had always been prone to flooding more anxiety into my bloodstream than was strictly warranted. As a teenager, I’d been convinced someone was breaking into the house while the guys were playing football, and I was home alone, and before Max and El got to me across our tiny town, I’d already broken out in hives.

Fear seemed to elicit weird symptoms—like I internalized the stress, which is why the familiar, slow-moving, glittering spots filling my vision had me cursing under my breath.

“Alice?” Expensive-looking checkered socks stepped into my vision, and I realized I was staring at the wide plank floors, attempting to blink away the floating shimmer in my eye. Instead of vanishing, the little spots grew like tiny worms or some kind of ameba, as they inched across my vision. When he spoke this time, Greyson’s tone had turned urgent. “Alice?”

“I, um—” There was a chasm between my brain and my mouth, making words suddenly impossible to form, the glimmer bacteria burning into my vision as an ache pressed against the back of my eyes. “Not today,” I whimpered, swearing as I jammed my eyes closed. It was the heat of his broad palms stroking up and down my arms that had me peeling my eyes open, reluctantly attempting to focus as more of my vision was gobbled up by the aggressive migraine rapidly consuming my world.

“What, Alice? Talk to me.”

“Do you…um…do you have coffee?” Each thought was more fragmented than the last, and I felt myself cling to his forearms like my life depended on it. I heard him snap his fingers and the shuffle of feet while I just tried to will away the blind spots blocking his face from view. I needed to get to the bathroom and quickly. Episodes that hit this hard and fast almost always came with a visit to the porcelain throne.

“Can you get her some coffee, please? Black and hot. She likes it just shy of scalding.”

“And…um,” I closed my eyes, willing my brain to function, “Ibuprofen or Excedrin or something?”

“I uh—I’m sure there’s something—did he hurt you?” He hoisted my hand to eye level, and through my kaleidoscope of brain fuckery, it looked like he was examining my wrist. If the strobes would stop flashing at me, I could see if he was as terrified as I thought he looked. “Ollie, call Doctor Eastman.”

“No, Grey,” I protested, squeezing my deathtrap on his forearm tighter as his face came in and out of focus through what was now about half my vision. Not for the first time, I wondered if this was what going on a bad trip was like. “I’m okay, I just…I get migraines with aura.”

“What?”

Oh god, was thatpanicin his voice?

“I’m losing my vision,” I explained, trying to isolate the pain in my head and not allow it into my voice. “The faster I get down a strong painkiller, the easier this will be, okay? If I don’t get them down quickly, I can be out of commission for a day or so, and I’m more likely to vomit. If any of the staff happen to have a cold cap in their car or rooms, those are…amazing.” It was getting physically hard to speak, the pain was so searing.

“Jesus, okay. What else can I do? God, I should have killed that motherfucker,” he growled, pulling me against his chest and cradling my head into the cranny of his neck. Something between a giggle and a whimper escaped me.

He was…soothing. The ache suddenly slamming against my skull had to compete with his palm wrapped around my face like he could shield me there. I focused on the subtle stroke of what I assumed was his thumb over my cheekbone as fast footsteps approached from the direction of the kitchen.

“Preston,” Grey’s voice rumbled against my ear, “bring every painkiller we’ve got to my room so she can tell me what’s best.”

“You got it, sir; I’ll head right up with water,” a male voice said.Preston? Had I met a Preston? Feeling entirely separated from my body, I wrapped my arms around his tight waist, turning into his torso and bowing against him. Dear God, the man’s body was solid. Reassuring.

“I’ve got you,” he breathed. For some damn reason, those three words had tears welling in my eyes as searing painslammed against them again to the rhythm of a metronome. My heartbeat, I realized. “Can you walk?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize. I got you into this mess.”

I was too afraid to shake my head, instead asking, “Can you please guide me? I can see about half…uh—my upper left is still okay.” I held my hand up to the side where I still had a good chunk of sight. Fear rocked through my body, and I had to beat it back. I‘d had these since I hit puberty, and now was not the time to panic. Fuck that. I was better than that.

It didn’t matter that I was in Greyson’s house or that it wasmy bosssoothing me with long strokes through my hair.Husband, my inner bitch corrected sardonically.

This wasn’t new, she reminded me.

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