Page 19 of Scar

I wake up to the sound of throwing up. I fling my eyes open, seeing it's dark out. How long have I been asleep on the couch? Fuck, there goes the vomiting sound again. I hurry up and click my leg into place, rushing into our bedroom to check on Maeve. If our first sexual encounter was successful, the one she was asleep for, she'll be ten days pregnant. It's just far enough along to start getting nausea. I'm going to be there for her like I promised, whether she's mad at me or not. She's not going to trust me if I lie about something so major.

So I rush to the bathroom door, but it's locked. Great, she doesn't trust me to take care of her. I gently knock on the door. "Can you open the door for me, ma fleur?" I ask calmly. There's silence for a minute, and then the toilet flushes. "Please leave me alone." She says quietly. I lean against the doorframe, ready to wait for her if I have to. "Let me help you." I insist. I hear her sniffling on the other side, right before I hear more vomiting. "No." She says after a minute.

She's not going to trust me if I don't take care of her right now. But she's not going to trust me if I invade her privacy and storm in there. Honestly I'd rather have her mad that I stormed in than to feel abandoned. I can't imagine how scared and uncomfortable she is right now to be sick and have no idea why.

Fuck it. I promised her that I was by her side, I'm not letting her down. I grab the key to the bathroom and unlock it. The smell hits me immediately. I've read that diarrhea can be a symptom of pregnancy, but it's not a common one. I guess it's possible since she hasn't been eating that dinner has upset her stomach further.

My poor girl is sitting on the toilet with her face buried in a trashcan. She's pale and covered in sweat. I can't see her face, but I know she's probably crying, too. I keep going towards her, even when she sticks a hand out to stop me. I want her to know that her bodily functions don't bother me. Nothing about her bothers me. I rub her back while she throws up into the trash can. "There you go, get it all out. I'll get you some water when you're done." I say calmly while my hand rubs circles on her back.

Maeve coughs before spitting into the trash can. "You said I could trust you." She says, glaring up at me with a few tears running down her tan face. I give her a reassuring smile, my hand still rubbing her back. "You can, ma fleur. I'm going to be there for you every step of the way. I'll set you up with an OB appointment in the morning." I promise her. Her glare somehow deepens,didn'trealizethat was possible. "I'm not pregnant, you butthead. You glutenedme!" She yells at me before the other end of her bodily functions takes over, and she covers her face with her hands in embarrassment. "I glutened you? What does that even mean?" I ask her.

Maeve sighs, reaching back to flush the toilet again. She leans back onto the back of the toilet, wiping the sweat off of her forehead. I quickly wet a washcloth andwipeher face for her. Fuck, her skin is ice cold.

"You said you knew. You said I could trust you. You gave me gluten." She says sadly. I don't know why it hurts that she's disappointed in me, but it does. I squat down in front of her, ignoring the pain in my leg when I do so. "I didn't give you any gluten. It was just vegetables, seasoning, chickpeas, and olive oil."I explain. My hands rub along her thighs, staring up at her worriedly. I hope she doesn't have hyperemesis. But I'll take care of her if she does. "A lot of seasonings and some oils have trace amounts of gluten." Sheexplainsto me. I don't see how that would make her sick. It's not a big deal to have a little gluten. Unless maybe it's been that long since she's had any? I don't know if that's a thing. "Okay, but not enough to make you sick. I can grab you a test on my way home from work tomorrow, okay?" Itellher.

Maeve rolls her eyes at me, rubbing her hand down her face. "It's enough for me! My celiac is very sensitive, and my tolerance is very low for gluten." She says with a rough sigh. She rubs her hand over her stomach, and I'm just now noticing how bloated she is. Celiac? "Do you have celiac disease?" I ask her calmly.

The glare she gives me tells me that I fucked up. I thought her avoidance of gluten was a dietary choice. Not a necessity. Fuck! If I had known that, I would have scrubbed the entire house clean. I would have made sure everything was certified, I would have been more careful. "I screwed up, I'm so sorry. Please tell me how to fix this. What can I do to help you?" I beg of her. I can't believe I didn't piece together how obsessive she was about her diet. I followed her for six months and didn't pick up on this.

Maeve finally makes eye contact with me, the look on her face breaks my heart. "Please leave me alone…" She begs. I don't want to, but I don't want to upset her any more than I already have. “Let me help you.” I beg. My promise to take care of her goes much deeper than just pregnancy. It's everything. I'll do anything for her. Anything she could ask or need, I'd do it. All this goddess would need to do is stare up at me, one look in those angelic brown eyes and I'd fold like lawn furniture for her.

Maeve sighs, holding her face in her hands. I know she's struggling, she looks so uncomfortable sitting here. But I won't move her until she's ready to be moved. I don't care how long I have to stay at her side. “No.” She whispers. I don't want to leave her. I don't want her to think that she's alone to suffer, but I don't want to hurt her and right now I've hurt her. I'll give in to this request, praying she calls out for me in a little while.

I wince when I stand up and give her a kiss on the forehead. “Please call out for me if you need anything. I'm here.” I promise before heading back into the bedroom. I know I'm going to sleep like shit, but I have to try. I have to be rested so tomorrow I can help Maeve if she needs me.

Chapter 27

Maeve's POV

My joints hurt, my stomach hurts, my throat hurts from throwing up, and my butt and legs are asleep from being on the toilet nonstop all night.

I tried to lay down several times, but I never actually made it out of the bathroom. I'd make it to the sink to wash my hands and I'd start to feel sick all over again. By the time I'm able to lay down, the sun is starting to rise. I still don't feel well, but I feel good enough to hopefully get some sleep. I really hope this isn't as severe as last time, last time I ended up in the hospital. I don't know if Leon would even let me go if I needed it.

Based on how he reacted to me taking my finals, I'm scared to ask. I'm scared to show him how sick I am right now. What if I make him mad? What if he's annoyed that I'm a burden?

I need water, I know I do. But I feel too weak to walk across the house to the kitchen, and there's no cup in the bathroom. So, I'm going without. Maybe there's a chance that Leon will bring me some water? That would be nice, but I won't ask. I feel stupid about yesterday. I've always been cautious over my celiac, but all it took was for him to say I could trust him, and I blindly did. Clearly, that worked out well for me.

I curl up into a ball in bed, hugging my midsection. My stomach hurts so bad that I want to cry. It's taking everything in me not to groan out in pain, but I don't want to wake Leon and make him mad. But my cramps are insane and the bloating makes it understandable why Leon thought I was pregnant. I mean, I still could be. But he only just had sex with me three days ago, there's no way I would know already.

As soon as I'm comfortably situated under the blankets, I feel cold. I'm so cold that my body hurts even more than it already did. But I'm too cold to get up and grab another blanket, so I just cover up my head in hopes of trapping as much heat as I can. I feel Leon's warm hand on my back. Even through the blanket, he feels warm. "What can I do to help you?" He asks me, his hand rubbing along my back through the blankets. I don't want to answer, I don't want his help. I just want to be left alone to suffer the consequences of trusting my kidnapper. I just want him to leave for work and leave me alone. I deserve it for believing in him, for trusting him.

I hear Leon climb out of bed, kind of missing the warmth of his hand as soon as it leaves my back. This plan to bury myself under the blanket to warm up, it isn't working. I'm just as cold, too cold to move, too cold to talk. All I can do is chatter my teeth and shiver while goosebumps line every inch of my skin and make my joints hurt even worse.

After several minutes of suffering alone, I hear Leon's footsteps get closer until he uncovers my lower half. I whine in protest, but then I feel him pulling a pair of sweatpants onto my almost naked legs. Next I feel him put a pair of socks on my bare feet. It immediately helps, but I'm still so cold that it physically hurts me. I want to cry, but I know I'm far too dehydrated to afford to cry without making myself sicker. He covers me up again, adding another blanket on top and tucking me in. Well, most of me. He uncovers my arm and I can feel the goosebumps take over my entire arm as soon as the chilly air hits my skin. I hate feeling like this.

Leon wraps something rubbery around my arm and tightens it. Next I feel a cold liquid rub against the bend of my elbow. Iuncovermy face to see him rubbing my skin with an alcohol pad. I raise an eyebrow at him, but he ignores me. I flinch when I see him carefully open a sterilized package containing a needle. I try to pull my arm away, but his grip doesn't allow me to. "I know you don't trust me right now, but I'm trying to help you." He tells me. He brings the needle closer to my arm, but I jerk my arm away from him and away from the needle. "It's just an IV. I promise, I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm trying to make up for yesterday. This will help you, okay?" He says. I don't want to trust him. I don't even know if he knows what he's doing with that needle, but it can't get much worse. Can it?

Leon hooks up the IV, hanging a bag of fluids on the bedpost. He adds a few syringes of things, explaining them to me as he adds them. He explains that he is adding an anti-inflammatory, an anti-nausea, a very mild steroid, and something for the diarrhea. He also tells me that I'm not staying in bed today. I want to argue, but I feel terrible and I honestly don't want to even open my mouth. I don't protest when he lays the IV bag against my stomach, lifting me into his arms. I whine as the cold air hits my skin and the blanket falls from around me, but he just quietly shushes me and walks out of his bedroom.

This house is so cold, it feels nice when I'm feeling well. But when I'm sick, it's terrible. I want to cry, I want to clutch onto Leon tightly and steal his body heat. But I also don't want him to come anywhere near me. Being sick hasn't let me forget that he was so cold and cruel toward me at dinner last night. That he so quickly shifted from someone I could possibly like, to someone I want to hide from.

He carries me through his house until I feel warmth. I open my eyes and see that we are in his living room and the fireplace is lit. He carefully sits me down on the chase of the couch and puts my IV on the back. A moment later, he crawls in behind me and sits me between his legs. I want to protest, I want to push him away. But I also want to steal his warmth. So when he leans my back against his chest, I don't fight him. I don't even fight him when he wraps his arms around me. I sigh contentedly when the warmth starts to surround me and my shivering slightly stops. "We're staying here all day. Anything you need, you just tell me. If you start to feel sick, just let me know so I can help you, okay?" He asks quietly into my ear. I nod, but I don't give him any other response. I'm too tired to respond.

Leon cocoons me in blankets and his body heat, wrapping me up until I feel so warm and safe that for the first time since dinner yesterday, I feel comfortable enough to sleep. I fight it off for a little while, but soon my head bobs and falls onto his chest and my eyes feel too heavy to keep open.

Chapter 28

Leon's POV