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Chapter Nine
Migraines were proof of the devil’s existence. Nobody would ever convince me differently. Anyone who disagreed with my theory had likely never experienced one.
People tended to think they were simply bad headaches, so the word ‘migraine’ was thrown around quite lightly. No, headaches didn’t drag on for several days accompanied by things such as body aches, nausea, vomiting, dizziness, a tender scalp, the chills, and an extreme sensitivity to light, sound, and odors.
Thanks to my current migraine, I’d been useless for days. For me, the latter stage—referred to by many as a hangover—usually lasted only a day or two. But this time, it had stretched out for three, and so I still felt like an absolute bag of shit.
I was drained, achy, tired, and had total brain fog. Which meant I wouldn’t be going to the Vault with Cole tonight. I had let him know by text earlier, explaining my situation. He’d advised me to get some rest.
That was it.
Not that I thought he didn’t care at all. But it was disappointing that he evidently wasn’t as bothered as I was that we’d be missing time together. I’d been looking forward to it all week. It had been my shiny light at the end of the migraine tunnel.
Worse, I wouldn’t see Cole again until next weekend. I’d probably be back to normal by tomorrow, but he’d be busy in the evening—not usual for him on Saturdays, but not rare—so we wouldn’t be going to the Vault together.
I inwardly moaned, cuddling my cushion closer to my chest as I lay on my side on my sofa watching TV. I missed him. A lot. Moreso than I was comfortable with.
I blamed him for that. If he’d only be a bit of a knob, I wouldn’t be having this issue. But he treated me so wonderfully even as he held himself slightly apart from me.
I absently reached up and touched the infinity pendant. In the past two weeks since I’d first worn the collar for him, he’d taken what could be interpreted as another baby step—he’d begun texting me whenever he felt like it. Sometimes to say good morning. Sometimes to share something mundane with me. Sometimes to say goodnight.
But still, the boundaries of our arrangement remained firmly in place.
It occurred to me that this might be karma giving me a bitch slap. Because I was now in Ryland’s position, wasn’t I? He’d wanted more from me than I’d agreed to give, and he’d held back on saying anything until recently—meanwhile, he’d had to pretend it didn’t bother him that I’d kept an emotional distance from him.
It would be so easy to become bitter in such a situation. So easy for the hurt and uncertainty to warp into something ugly. That said, I didn’t think I’d ever come to resent Cole over his need for solid boundaries. I didn’t believe I had it in me to feel any such negative emotions toward him. But if it transpired that I was wrong, I would walk away before any spite that I grew to feel could bleed out onto him. Otherwise, it would be like punishing him for a personal choice that he had every right to make.
How would that be fair, when he’d been painfully honest with me about what he did and didn’t want from the very beginning?
Hearing my phone beep, I reached forward and retrieved it from the coffee table. The message was from Cat:Feeling any better?
I typed:Hangover is still alive and kicking, but at least the head pain has gone. You finished spewing up your guts yet?I added a green-faced emoji.
I haven’t done any hurling since last night. Hate vomiting.
Were there carrots in it?
Chunky ones.
I smiled.
Before I could respond, she sent another text:I don’t even know where they came from, I haven’t eaten any carrots in the past few days.
I still think you should see a doctor.
An emoji of an eye rolling face popped up followed by:Like I told Danton, it’s just one of those 24hr viruses. I’m feeling better already. Sorry you’re not.She added a row of purple hearts.
I’ll be fine by tomorrow.I reached for my can of Coke, grimacing when I felt how light it was. The thought of trudging to the kitchen to grab another did not fill me with joy. I didn’t often drink it, but I’d found it helped my migraines.
My phone beeped again.
After downing the last of my drink, I swiped my thumb over the screen to light it up … and promptly realized that the new message wasn’t from Cat, it was from Cole.
It simply read:Let me in.
I blinked. What the—
A knock came at the front door.
