Page 29 of Fragile Touch (Fragile 1)
“Don’t you put weird protein powders in all your food?” Joking, she stuck out her tongue.
“I don’t eat food. I only eat raw eggs and rare steak.” He rolled his eyes. “You look like you could use a little more protein, anyway. I’ll fix you up.”
“I get plenty of protein, thank you very much. I keep a detailed food journal.”
“Of course you do.” Cayden tugged at her hand. “Come on.”
“I really can’t. I have to take my meds with breakfast.” Dammit, why did I say that?
She expected some kind of sarcastic response, but a look of concern crossed over his face. “I did notice a lot of bottles. Are you okay?”
No, I’m not okay. “I don’t need any sympathy,” she said bluntly.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Sorry.” She let go of his hand and brushed her hair behind her ear. “This isn’t something fun to talk about after a night like that. Don’t worry about me.”
The way he stared at her face was clear as a bell: he wasn’t going to forget about those bottles. He cared.
He doesn’t need to care. She really didn’t want to talk about it, and looked away. “It’s okay, for real.”
He stuck his hand closer and insisted, “Come on, let me make you food. Go get what you need from yours and come back over.”
She sighed and reluctantly took his hand again. “I’ll think about it.”
“Because walking downstairs takes ages.” There was that toothy smile that made her smile.
“Long enough for me.” She raised to her knees and swung one leg out onto the floor. Pain drove itself like a nail up her torso and her leg gave out. Trying not to fall from the sudden loss of balance, she groped the air for something and found his arm. He supported her from the waist and tried to sit her straight on the edge of the bed, but she curled into a fetal position.
“What’s happening?”
She buried her eyes in her knees and focused on breathing. “It’ll pass. Give me a second.”
“What’s happening, Lil?” he asked again, louder. She knew he had a hand on her, but the pain in her stomach was too immense to feel it.
Don’t ask questions when someone is curled up in pain, she thought, a bit annoyed, then countered herself. Maybe he’s never been around anyone who’s had this problem. He’s just surprised. She held up one finger, unable to talk, and took more breaths. Over the next minute, the pain mostly subsided and she was able to slowly uncurl.
Cayden stood wide-eyed, looking a little paler than before. “Are you okay? What was that?”
“I’m okay.” Her voice was shaky, but firm. “It’s nothing new.”
“I’ll carry you down.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Can you walk?”
“Yes, I’m okay. I need to get home and take my meds.”
His expressio
n asked the question again: what were those bottles for?
She answered before he could repeat himself. “I’ll explain another time.” Rising to her feet, she inhaled deeply and stepped tenderly toward the door. Cayden shadowed her; she felt his eyes on her back the whole way down the stairs.
Her water was still sitting on the coffee table where she had left it. The fire was now dimly-glowing embers. She drained the whole glass in one go, the flavors of lemon and mint strong enough to wake her up. “Well...” she tried, and wondered what the goodbye discussion should entail. “It was fun.”
“Don’t pull that shit on me.” At first, she thought he was upset, but he lightly placed his hand on her back. “Next time, you stay for breakfast.”
