The pain is starting to roll from my brain to the rest of my face until my jaw, neck, and shoulders are tight with it. It’ll settle into my stomach next. I need a glass of water and a cool, dark room, but the cabin is anything but cool. It’s been baking all day in the hot summer sun. The logs retain the heat, and it’s basically a sauna in here. It could be dark, though. That would be such a welcome reprieve.
“In here.” Darby is standing in a small room with a twin-sized bed. There’s a pink and purple floral quilt on it, and the whole room is done up in shades of pink. There are pony posters on the walls and a fuzzy pink rug on the floor. “No comments,” she commands as my jaw drops open. “This was my childhood room, and we’ve kind of just left it the same. My brother’s room is much more badass, but he’s in there right now. The master bedroom has a queen-sized bed, but my grandparents have taken it.” Her face goes scarlet when she mentions the bed. A big bed. For two people?
I’d normally like to take that apart and think about it, but there are a thousand reasons I shouldn’t, and my head feels like an overripe melon, all soggy and mushy on the inside, and thinking hurts right now, which is another good reason not to unpack that.
At this point, I’d very much like to unpack my bag and lay down.
I must have done something. Scrubbed my face or rubbed my temples without noticing, or I must have some expression on my face that was entirely transparent because Darby was looking at me with a mixture of suspicion, worry, and concern. God, my face probably looks like a smushed potato right now. I feel bruised inside my skull, and my stomach is starting to twist. If things get out of hand, I’m not going to be able to hide anywhere.
Kitty warned you about this, you eejit.
I need to calm down. Things are really bad when that mocking voice, heavy with the Irish accent, gets into my skull.
“Are you okay?”
With whatever I can muster, I very quickly attempt to reassemble a tough front. “Fine. Just…tired. I haven’t slept in days.” That’s the truth. If only she knew that it wasn’t a rare thing. I often don’t sleep. Even that feels like a huge admission, but I have to give her something. Her blue eyes are boring through me again, picking me apart muscle by muscle, bone by bone.
“The wedding.”
I let her believe that’s the reason. The stress of all of it was partly to blame, so maybe it’s even a little bit true. “I’m not feeling well.” Understatement of the entire history of the world, though I hate admitting it.
Darby’s eyes get wide. “Oh. Uh, okay. I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“No.”I’d give my left hand, since it’s already crap, for a glass of water.
“Can I get you some water?”
Oh, thank fuck.“Please.”
Darby nods. She rushes out, and it’s not even ten seconds before two gray heads, one very puffy and curly and adorable, the other a little wild and way past needing a cut, pop through the doorway. They peek in like they’re scared of what they might find in here.
“Sorry to hear you aren’t feeling good, son,” Darby’s grandpa says sympathetically. He doesn’t know me, but he is sorry. I feel like a total chump because the back of my throat starts burning. “There’s a cure for that. Being out here will fix you up right fast.”
“The fresh air works wonders,” Darby’s grandma agrees. “Want me to fix you up some pie, sweetheart? There’s not much a good strawberry pie can’t set to rights.”
My stomach both grumbles and roils at the same time. “No, but thank you.” Even the words are starting to hurt now. I seriously need to get into bed and shut my eyes before it’s lights out in a totally different way.
“Toast then?”
“Want to try some prune juice and gin? It might not be the young crowd’s drink of choice, but it’s excellent. Gets the blood flowing and keeps you regular.”
“Herb!” A hand swats at something behind the doorframe.
“I’m okay, but thank you,” I choke out a reply.
“I have water.” Darby comes through the doorway, shaking her head at her grandparents. “Good lord, you two. You could just come in here and talk to him. He’s not going to bite.”
I’d very much like to bite her when my head isn’t imploding like a bloody black hole.
Now that thought right there just shows that things are getting way out of control.I do not bite people. I do not suck blood or eat puppies, and my name is not actually Lord Poo, even if I like the sound of it when Darby says it. Has she said it? No, that was her brother. But if she did say it, I think I wouldn’t mind it. It would be kind of kinky.
What the actual fuck right now?
Darby wriggles her fingers at her grandparents. “Let’s let Leon sleep. He’s had a few long days, and he’s exhausted. I know it’s early, but don’t worry, you have me to make up for it. You know I’m a master at puzzles.”
The puzzles thing earns her nods and smiles, and then two different hands wave fingers at me as Darby waves at them.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”