Page 91 of Before We Break

I sink onto the side of the mattress and turn on the lamp that sits on her nightstand. Pressing my hand to the mass of blankets, I whisper, “Clio. Baby. I’m here.”

My gentle tone defies the terrifying mix of emotions that have taken root in the pit of my stomach.

One of the blankets lowers, and Clio’s face comes into view, pale and lifeless. Completely devoid of her usual vibrance. “Noah?” she croaks out.

“Did I wake you?” I press the back of my hand to her forehead, then her cheek. She’s warm, but it’s a low-grade fever at most.

She nods.

“What’s going on? Are you sick”

“No… Yes… It’s complicated.”

“Uncomplicate it for me, princess.”

“I started my period. Only for me it’s not just a period. It’s a lot of pain, exhaustion, and more pain. Among other things.” She rolls to face me, pulling the blanket up to her chin. “I have endometriosis. I think I forgot to take my meds a couple of times this month and now I’m paying for it.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Find me a new uterus.”

“All out of those, I’m afraid.” I offer her a small smile, running my thumb along her cheekbone. “How about I run you a warm bath? Will that help?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“You’re always taking care of everyone. Just this once, let someone else take care of you.”

Something flickers in those irises that I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time trying to capture on paper. I failed time and time again because nothing could ever compare to the real thing.

“Ok.”

“Stay here.” I bend and press a kiss to her forehead.

In the bathroom, I kneel next to the clawfoot tub and run the water to a comfortable temperature—warm enough to ease her pain but not so hot that it might burn her skin. I search the cabinets, find a jar of Epsom salts and a bottle of bubble bath, and add a moderate amount of each under the running water until a floral scent permeates the air around me.

When I return to her room, Clio’s exactly where I left her. Her face is scrunched in pain. I don’t hesitate for a second, scooping her into my arms, and she lets out a high-pitched squeak.

“What are you doing?”

“Bath’s ready.”

“I can walk.”

I stride into the bathroom and deposit her on the rug. “Let’s make a deal.” I grip each side of her blanket and pull it off her shoulders. “For the next twenty-four hours, you’ll let me take care of you.”

She opens her mouth.

I press my finger to her lips. “No fighting. No exceptions.”

She narrows her gaze.

I hold out my hand, palm up. “Please.”

CLIO

Noah Weston just said please with such earnestness it left me awestruck. All of my carefully honed instincts are compelling me to fight this, but I’m too tired.

“Ok.” My palm fits perfectly in his, like a puzzle piece finally finding its home. He guides me over to the bathtub, where rose-scented steam is rising from the water.