“He’s acting like he still has rights to you when he gave them up.”
“I did not give them up,” Sloan argued.
“News flash! Neither of you have rights to me.” Black dots danced in front of her eyes as a blinding pain engulfed her. “Crap.” She held her hand up to her head.
“Is it a migraine?” Sloan was suddenly there, steadying her.
She just whimpered. It was all she was capable of.
“She’s been sick,” James said quietly. “I ought to be shot, letting her get this upset.”
“Sick? What’s wrong with her?” Sloan pulled her against his chest, and against her better judgment she leaned against him. She was in a huge amount of pain and all she wanted right now was some comfort.
“She’s had a virus, vomiting, and a fever.”
“Then why the hell isn’t she in bed?” Sloan pulled her up into his arms, and she groaned, the movement sending shards of agony through her head. Her stomach rolled. But he soon placed her gently on the bed.
“She was in bed, at my place. I’ve been taking care of her since Friday night.”
“What the fuck was she doing at your place?” Sloan snapped. “What is wrong with you? Why are you chasing her? Is it because you can’t stand for me to be happy?”
“Of course that isn’t it,” James told him. “Why wouldn’t I want you to be happy?”
Sloan snorted.
As interesting as this conversation was, she was feeling utterly miserable. She just wanted quiet and darkness.
She whimpered.
“Sh, baby, it’s okay. You just lie there. I’ll take care of you.” Sloan’s voice was soft. She heard the drapes being pulled then the room was plunged into darkness. Well, as much darkness as could be achieved with her threadbare curtains.
She whimpered when someone reached around her and pushed a hand up the back of her shirt.
“I’m just undoing your bra so you’ll be more comfortabl
e,” Sloan told her. This wasn’t the first time he’d nursed her through a migraine. They were brought on by stress, and she’d had plenty of that lately.
“What else does she need?” James asked.
“Mostly dark and quiet and to lie still. But maybe a cold cloth will help.” Sloan rubbed his hand over her back. “Poor baby, I’ll make sure you feel better. You just rest.”
James returned with a wet washrag, handing it to Sloan. “Here’s a cool cloth for your head.” She tensed and whimpered, but the cool cloth over her forehead soon helped.
“You just go to sleep. That’s it. Good girl. I’m so sorry, Kinley. I promise I’m going to make everything up to you. But, right now, just relax and sleep.”
James paced up and down the living area of Kinley’s tiny apartment as he waited for Sloan. This apartment was even worse than he’d feared. The walls were damp, it smelled musty despite all the windows being open, and it was filled with cheap furniture that had seen better days. Why had Sloan let her live here?
Sloan walked around the partition that separated the sleeping area from the lounge and kitchenette.
James opened his mouth to ask how she was, but Sloan shook his head holding a finger to his lips. He nodded.
Sloan opened the door and nodded at him to follow him out. James was reluctant to leave, and part of him wondered if Sloan would just slam the door shut behind him, shutting him out. But the other man followed, leaving the door open. James moved out into the corridor, leaning against the wall. Sloan paced back and forth. As usual, too full of energy to stand still for long.
“Is she all right? Should I send for a doctor?”
Sloan stilled, looking over at him. “She’s okay for the moment. She slipped off to sleep pretty quickly. Probably means the migraine is a combination of stress and exhaustion.”
James frowned. He hated not knowing everything about her. As though he were the odd one out. But you are. You’re the outsider here, as always.