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I know what my role is, no matter how much Killian denies it.
I have to stop torturing myself.
And I desperately need to throw up.
I barely get myself over the bowl before I empty the contents of my stomach into it.
When I’m finished, I draw a shaky breath and ease back down on the floor beside the toilet.
I’m startled when I look up to see Killian standing in the doorway in his sweats.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He walks over and crouches down next to me so he can rub my back. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “Just a lot on my mind. Probably stress. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod again more forcefully. “Yes. I’m sure.”
But I’m a crummy liar, so I don’t stay in the well-lit bathroom for long.
“I’m tired,” I tell him, forcing a little smile as I stand. “Let’s go back to bed.”
___
I don’t call the student health center; I decide to just show up.
Killian bought me a new phone, and despite myself, I couldn’t help thinking about what Stacie said about him possibly monitoring it. There was nothing wrong with my old phone, he just insisted on getting me the newer model with the better camera.
“Think of all the cute pictures you can take of Toast,” he said, and well, it worked.
But since the moment we transferred over all my old info to my new phone, I can’t help thinking there’s a chance he’s monitoring it somehow.
So if I make an appointment on that phone, I can’t help thinking he’ll know.
Thankfully, the student health center is still open during winter break.
I tell the girl at the desk I had an appointment to get on birth control a while back, but they had to cancel my appointment, and I never got around to rescheduling it.
“At the time, I didn’t think I needed it anymore, but… well, I do.”
“My notes say you canceled,” she tells me, looking at her computer. “But we can get you set up with a new appointment, no problem.”
I frown. “I didn’t cancel the appointment. Someone called me. Michelle, I think?”
She shakes her head. “No Michelle works here, hon.” Her gaze finally leaves her computer and she looks at me with concern. “Do you have the phone number in your call log? If someone called you from our office, I can check the schedule and see who it was.”
Slowly, I shake my head. “No, it’s okay. I… I must be remembering wrong.”
“I can get you in for a check-up Friday,” she says, tapping keys on her keyboard and shifting her gaze back to her computer screen. “Is afternoon okay for you?”
My stomach rocks and that queasy feeling hits me again. I grip the edge of the counter and take a breath, trying to will the nausea away.
“Miss Blakely?”
I open my eyes and look at her, but I still feel ill.
