18. Chapter 16
Emery
The dull throb that started behind my left eye has expanded and now pounds in the right side of my head. Jamming my fingers into my eyes, I try to relieve the pain by applying pressure, but all that does is make my vision sparkly when I reopen my eyes.
I’m out of water, and the pain meds I took this morning should still be working. Maybe it’s the light? Either way, I think I am done for the rest of the day.
I’ve managed to stay mostly upright for the class, finding Justin pretty easy to listen to, even though his voice isn’t as deep or as fascinating. But now, I’m practically lying horizontal, using the back of the chair to support my head and squinting to focus on my laptop screen.
Watching Will’s study group’s shared notes document in real time is pretty fucking cool, and I’d be way more appreciative if I could make the brightness on my screen—and the screen Justin is controlling—go even darker.
Someone must have prepped the shared file with the slides before the class started. There are five different colored cursors on the screen, typing, highlighting, adding comments that turn into conversation threads—which is mostly where I find myself, clarifying questions and fixing typos.
I’m not one-hundred-percent sure that’s what I’m supposed to be doing, but I haven’t had anyone correct me about it yet. If it’s an issue, they can tell me about it at tomorrow’s study group.
My phone vibrates on my desk.
Will: You okay?
Me: I’m fading. I think it’s the lights. Will be going back to my dorm after this.
My message is set to read straight away. No bubble reappears, so I drop the phone and try to concentrate for the last few minutes of the class.
I startle when a hand touches my shoulder, heart wanting to jump in my chest, but I get hit with a wave of nausea instead. Swallowing over and over, I try to keep my composure as I glance at my shoulder.
Derek’s sunglasses. I’d left them sitting on my desk.
Closing my fingers around the folded-up glasses, I peek up at Will. He offers me a warm smile, even if there is a pinch of worry, before sitting back in his seat and refocusing on his laptop.
My mind is spinning a million miles a second at his gesture, but the rest of me feels too crappy to second-guess anything as I slip the glasses on, and holy heck, does that help.
Not enough to make the already-formed headache dive off a cliff, but the sharp, stabbing pains in my eyes and temples ease up.
With a little of the tension eased from my body, I pick up my phone and text Will.
Me: Thanks.
Will: All good. I’ll walk you back to your dorm. Don’t worry about the notes. We can go over them tomorrow or whenever you are feeling up to it.
I send back a thumbs-up and close my eyes behind the shades for the rest of the class. It’s only a few minutes—not enough time for me to actually drift off—but it’s enough of a rest to try and get the nausea under control.
Definitely going to pass out as soon as my head hits the pillow.
Something tickles my upper arm, and I reach to swat it away, but there is a quiet huff of male laughter.
“Ems, you need to wake up. Class is over.”
Carefully, I force my eyes open and roll my head to look at Will, with his soft, gentle smile and his pretty blue eyes. The way he is watching me with so much concern and care should be like a balm to my soul, but honestly, there is nothing there for me.
Maybe it’s the headache. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, but this guy, this super-nice, age-appropriate guy is not striking any chords within me.
Like, at all.
Just a look from one of my daddies has my insides zinging to life.
But I’m done with that whole situation, I remind myself. I need to move on. I need to give this thing with Will space and time to grow into that zing.
So, I do my best to smile back at him and force myself to sit upright before reaching for my glasses that are still propped on my face.
His warm hand closes over mine. “No, leave them on.”
I would nod, but my head might explode if I do, so I start packing everything up. Except, Will is right there, shutting my laptop and taking my bag out of my hands to fill it with my things.
Before I can even react, he stands, taking the bag in one hand and holding out his other to me.
The struggle has become seriously real on my end. All I want is to lie down in a cold, dark room, and if Will is going to get me there, then I’m taking all the help I can get.
I slip my hand into his as I stand, and he helps me to maintain my balance as we go down the stairs, his arm coming around my waist as the last two steps seem to increase in size.
Just as we get to the doors, it occurs to me that the room is very quiet for the end of class, and I cast a look over his shoulder and find the room completely empty. Did he wait for everyone else to leave before helping me?
Will holds the door open for us, and I shuffle through, squinting to stop as much of the light as possible from hammering at my brain. Except, there is someone standing out here in the hallway.
I don’t even need to look up at the face; the polished leather shoes tell me everything I need to know. Derek. Irritation worms its way up my spine, and as much as I really want to let it consume me, I’m struggling to think past the dense fog that has already taken up residence in my head.
“Professor King.” Will acknowledges Derek’s presence, warily. I’m fairly confident that Will has put two and two together on why Derek can’t teach our class anymore, so him suddenly waiting outside the classroom door is definitely not a great look.
Not that Derek seems to give two fucks about that.
“William. I’ll take it from here,” Derek states, holding out a hand to Will in a silent request for my things.
Will’s fingers tighten around my own. “It’s okay, I’ve got her.”
Derek’s weight shifts, and his tone takes on a polite lightness, but we all know that he is being far from polite. “Won’t you be late for practice? I’m sure Coach Druitt has some sort of rule about being late.”
The way Will stiffens informs me that Derek has hit his mark. “I’ll explain to him that I was helping my…a friend. He’ll understand.”
“Are you sure about that? Willing to bet the few minutes of ice time you get on the weekend? As a freshman, I’d have thought you would be doing everything to increase your time, not detract from it.
The two shifts you played during the last game were spectacular.
I’m sure that if you keep showing up like you have been, you’ll be shuffled up the lines. ”
I know they are saying words, but the meaning of them isn’t sinking in. On top of that, the pain in my head has increased enough that I can’t handle a single second more of this pissing contest. “Will, go to practice. Please.”
Maybe I can call Oakley? I can’t remember where she is supposed to be right now, but I could find a quiet room to rest in while I wait for her. Then she can deal with Derek, because I just don’t have the energy right now.
Will steps between me and Derek, concern stretching over his features, like he is actually willing to get into it with Derek if I ask him to. “Are you sure? I can message my captain, Dushane, and let him know what’s happening. He knows that I helped you get home from the hospital.”
I give his hand a squeeze. “Yeah, it’s okay.” It isn’t, but that isn’t his fault. He doesn’t need to be dragged into the drama with my exes. “Go to practice. I’ll message you later to let you know I’m feeling better.”
Forcing my eyes to meet his requires more head movement than I am happy with, but I do it. Even with the sunglasses on, the light stabs into my eyeballs.
Will’s eyes rove over my face before he seems to accept my words. “If I don’t hear from you by tomorrow morning, know that I’ll be showing up at your dorm to check on you.”
I try to force a smile. “Understood.”
And then he shocks the crap out of me by dropping a kiss on my forehead before turning to leave.
I’m not positive, but I’m sure I hear a growl.
I stare after Will, but Derek stops him after only two strides.
“William, wait.”
Will turns back to us, a what now expression on his face.
Derek gently takes hold of my elbow and pulls me into his side. “Could I please have Emery’s bag?”
Will clenches his jaw before offering Derek my bag. He turns and starts down the hallway before Derek can even pretend to offer a thank you.
“What are you doing here?” I rasp out as I allow Derek to wrap an arm around my shoulders and take my hand to help me start down the hallway, my anger at him a distant tickle in the back of my mind. Every step is painful, and all I want is to be stationary.
“A little birdie told me you might need some assistance,” Derek replies in a soft, soothing tone that’s barely loud enough for me to hear.
That’s all I get, but I know it’s not all he has. It only takes a few more steps for him to break.
“You were told to rest for a week.”
Tendrils of joy fill my stomach at his concern. I’d grin at the grumbly way he speaks, clearly battling trying to be comforting but also stern.
Fuck, no, wait. I’m not happy that he still cares.
Nope. This shit between us is over.
He. Lied. To. Me.
So, I do the mature thing. I don’t answer. Just continue to use him as a human walking stick.
Derek sighs, his warm breath tickling the side of my face. “Can I at least offer you something for your pain? If you take it now, by the time we get you back to your dorm, you’ll be able to sleep.”
I really, really wish I was fucking strong enough to say no, but the edges of my vision are starting to go hazy, and I really don’t think I’m going to make it back to the dorm, not in this state. I’m not even sure I can open my mouth to reply, and I definitely cannot move my head.
So, I stop. Hopefully he’s smart enough to figure it out from there.
There is a rustling, and I assume it’s him going through his satchel that he usually brings to class, and then there is another quiet demand. “Open.”
I open my mouth and I feel a small something placed on my tongue.
“Close.”
Warmth cups the back of my head, and I ignore the chalky flavor in my mouth as the opening of a bottle is placed at my lips, both the bottle and the hand on the back of my head applying pressure until I tip back and cool water flows into my mouth.
I only manage a few swallows before it’s taken away, the tablet no longer present. More rustling, then the arm around my waist and the hand in mine return.
“Come on, baby girl, let’s get you back to your room.”
I want to scream at him not to call me that.
That I’m not his baby girl anymore. He ruined that.
But I can’t. I ache everywhere, and all I want to do is lean on him, to trust him to get me back to my dorm safely.
To rewind the past three weeks and go back to that first weekend, when we were all safe in our little bubble in the apartment.
But since I can’t do that, I force my feet to shuffle along and pray that it doesn’t take me the rest of the day to get back to the dorm.