Forty – Morgan
Forty
Morgan
“ Y ou sure I can’t talk you into staying?” Cal asked as he took a bite of scrambled eggs. We were cuddled up against his headboard, him naked, save for a pair of boxers, and me swimming in one of his Narwhals t-shirts, eating breakfast in bed.
Which was a culinary miracle, considering the man was half-asleep and still on his first cup of coffee.
Nibbling on a piece of toast, I shook my head—or tried to. It felt like someone had screwed a crank into my skull while we slept and was now yanking my nerves out by the roots.
Well, while he slept. I only managed to drift off for a few fitful hours.
“Didn’t bring the right pills,” I said.
That was a lie. I’d packed my entire slate of pills, with enough doses to last until tomorrow morning. But I hadn’t anticipated waking up to a migraine and crippling nausea.
The glare outside his high-rise, amplified by the surrounding glass skyscrapers, sliced through Cal’s new curtains. Cream-colored linen might be tasteful, but it offered no defense against the aggravating light.
He didn’t need to witness one of my bad days so early in our relationship.
“Say no more. Health first.”
While he polished off his coffee and eggs, I ducked into the bathroom with my overnight bag. The soreness in my core was a pleasant reminder of our intimacy, a sharp contrast to the acidic sting that flared every time I bent my arm or lifted a leg. Even amazing sex couldn’t exorcise my suppressant side effects.
Leggings were all I could manage. I was in too much pain to bother wrestling with a bra. It was unceremoniously shoved into my bag, along with my rumpled cocktail dress and heels.
I did, however, pull on one of his oversized cardigans, a shale gray cable-knit beauty that reached my knees.
Wearing his clothes sent a small thrill of possession through me. It was a satisfying proxy for my inability to smell the amaretto-scented pheromones clinging to my skin—evidence of our night together.
Being simultaneously territorial and comfortable was a win in my book.
Cal didn’t remark on my commandeered sweater. Instead, he draped his arm around my shoulders and peppered the top of my head with kisses all the way down to the underground parking garage.
It was a quick drive home, but our parting was anything but. One kiss turned into two, then three, a welcome distraction from the pain radiating through my body. His affection was the only thing keeping the worst of it at bay.
But then the crank started up again, sharp and relentless, making me wince. My vision blurred, and my nausea intensified.
Reluctantly breaking away, I grabbed my bag and inched toward the door. “I’ll text you later.”
“Hey.” Cal cupped my cheek, turned my face back to his, wearing the worried expression I’d been trying to prevent. “I thought maybe you were still upset about Heather, but that’s not it. Do you have a migraine?”
My lips and tongue waged a brief battle, unsure whether it was better to lie or be honest. I landed somewhere in the middle.
“Yeah,” I croaked out. “Just need to take my meds. Nothing to worry about.” I leaned closer, resting my hand on his thigh. “Now kiss me goodbye. For real.”
Cal scrutinized my face, cataloging the glassiness of my pupils and the pallor of my complexion. Still, he returned my kiss.
“Call me if you need anything, okay? Even just a body pillow.”
“Will do.”
In a final act of desperation, afraid he might follow me inside, I exploited one of Cal’s few flaws: his ego.
“And just for the record, you were magnificent last night, Dr. Carling.”
The post-orgasmic glow only lasted until I reached the safety of my bedroom. I didn’t crash. I cratered.
Goddamn suppressant reduction.
** *
Monday morning was just as bad. I even skipped working out for the first time in months. The rest of the day passed with minimal trouble…until our PheroPass meeting.
Owen attending in person was never a good sign. He was like a well-dressed harbinger of doom, and today’s message was no exception—in fact, it was downright abysmal.
“The coaching staff declined Redwing’s meeting request,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain.
Cal tapped his pen against the conference room table, a subtle outlet for his growing frustration. “They believe the pheromone spikes are nothing more than, and I quote, ‘youthful exuberance.’”
Talia leaned forward, her frown deepening. “But we don’t know who—or what—is responsible. The players are at risk.”
“I know,” Cal replied, the gravity of his voice reassuring everyone that the concern was mutual. “Which is why I’ve elevated the matter to university athletics. I’m prepared to take this to the top if necessary.”
“Likewise,” Owen added.
“But we’re hoping it won’t come to that,” Cal said diplomatically.
“That being said…” Owen leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. “Redwing’s legal department has been briefed on the situation. This could get ugly.”
Staring at my laptop keyboard, too drained to take notes, I failed to understand the coaching staff’s logic. The safety of the players should always come first. If both Designation Services and Redwing were warning them of potential danger…
The football players were just kids. They were going about their lives, attending classes, hanging out with friends, and planning for the future. Unaware of the danger looming on the sidelines—that could ruin everything in one fell swoop.
It only took one second.
Why— why —were they squandering a chance to take preventive measures, a chance that I hadn’t been afforded?
“Lunch?” a crisp voice asked over my shoulder.
Turning, I found Owen watching me, already wearing his overcoat and holding his work bag. Cal hovered in the doorway, talking to Talia, eyes darting my way after every other word .
Oh no. I’d zoned out—all the way out. How much of the meeting had I missed?
Rather than panic, I took my time saving my scant notes and closed my laptop before getting to my feet.
“Sorry,” I said, “don’t have time.”
Owen’s mouth narrowed into a grim line.
“Well, eat something or imbibe some caffeine. Whatever it is that keeps you running.” Turning to join Cal, he glanced over his shoulder, adding in a low voice, “I don’t want to see you like this again.”
Holy hell. How bad were things that Owen Redmond was worried about me?
Cal stepped back as the group started down the hallway and held up his phone. Then, he caught up with Owen, heading for the lobby.
His text didn’t pull any punches.
You’re worse than yesterday. Think you should take the afternoon off.
I’m okay. Just need to eat something.
A granola bar and a cup of Earl Grey tea was a sad excuse for lunch, but it was still food. And I did technically consume them. But Cal didn’t need to know they’d come right back up.
And when he texted later, asking how I was feeling, I lied to my boyfriend for the second time in as many days.
All systems normal.
***
The precious block of time I’d set aside on Tuesday afternoon to apply for jobs was spent over my toilet, retching until nothing was left—and not just because I’d received a summons to check in with Dr. Sethi the following day. I was a hollow, tear-streaked wreck, trembling on the bathroom floor.
Even the cats wouldn’t come near me.
It took fifteen solid minutes before I could muster enough strength to move, gripping the edge of the vanity as I hauled myself upright. The bathroom tilted on its axis as I staggered forward on numb feet, head pounding with every step.
Bed. That was the only solution. Curl up and wait for the worst to pass.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed—one hour, maybe ten—when cool fingers brushed against my forehead. Kelsey’s gentle touch. I didn’t question her presence. She only entered my suite as a last resort.
My text inbox was probably filled with missed status check requests. Malfunctions galore.
Kelsey withdrew her hand and sat down on the edge of my bed.
“Rory’s here. We made spaghetti. Can you eat?”
“Ugh…” It was all I could manage by way of reply, fending off a fresh wave of nausea while trying to understand why Rory was here on a weeknight.
“That settles it. I’m not leaving tomorrow.”
Oh shit. Jenna’s birthday weekend. I was supposed to drive them to the airport in the morning for their flight to Tacoma.
“No—no,” I said, forcing myself to sit up and open my eyes. Easier said than done. “Absolutely not.”
“Jenna will understand—”
“It’s her twenty-first birthday. I will not do that to her.”
If Kelsey canceled her trip because of my health, it could trigger a chain reaction. Mom would likely stay behind, maybe even Rory, too. I couldn’t be the reason they disappointed Jenna, especially after the whole family celebrated my birthday the night before the Millwright Marathon.
It wouldn’t be fair, and I couldn’t stomach giving Jenna yet another reason to hate me.
“Please, Kels.” I gripped her wrist, using our connection as an anchor to stay upright. “You have to go. Jenna’s made so many plans. Rory told me all about them. She wants to take you to a candle place that might work for Beaufeather’s, her favorite bookstore, and—”
“You’ve been a mess for days.”
I straightened up a little more and tried my best to be convincing. “Which means the worst is over. I’ll be fine tomorrow. Thursday at the latest. Not worth canceling the trip over.”
“You look like shit. Don’t know when you last ate a full meal. And I’m supposed to leave you alone like this?”
Kelsey held my hand tight. Her nails were long, carefully maintained ovals painted with purple holographic polish. As pleasing as they were perfect. Just like my sister. A stark contrast to my short, utilitarian nails, with their ragged cuticles.
“What happens if you get worse? ”
“I can take a sick day. Cal’s coming over Friday night to spend the weekend with me. Plus, Piper’s in town. I’ll be fine.”
“Great. Busy sister and even busier boyfriend to the rescue. How reassuring.”
“Well, if they’re not available…” I gestured toward unit 602.
Kelsey rolled her eyes. “Could you be a little more specific?”
“Uh…” I stalled, mentally running through the roster of Pack Redmond. Who was the best backup?
Owen was out of the question. For some unknown reason, I’d been granted view-only access to his calendar, and the man barely had time to breathe, let alone hold my hair back while I vomited. After our elevator show-down and his cryptic not-offer of employment with Redwing, keeping my distance felt like the safest option.
As for Wyatt… I still hadn’t thanked him for my birthday presents, something I should have done before the fall gala and definitely before we posed for those damned photos together. But I hadn’t. Because I didn’t know howto be around Wyatt anymore. Nor could I figure out what to say in response to his last text, complete with one of those regrettable photos attached.
Joaquin was out of the running, too. He’d be tied up with the same dress rehearsals as Piper. The Nutcracker was opening next weekend, the day after Thanksgiving.
Which left me with a single, somewhat sensitive option. An absolute last resort—because I was in no shape to finish our conversation from the gala. How could I turn Alijah down with the care and reassurance he deserved when I couldn’t even stomach a cup of ginger tea?
“It’s another away game this weekend. Alijah will be around. I promise to call him if Cal and Piper aren’t available.”
Kelsey studied my face with her resolute green gaze, combing through my words for anyhint of mistruth or a loophole I might be trying to exploit. “If you’re lying to me—”
“I’m not—really, I’m not. And to prove it, if I screw up while you’re gone, I promise I won’t ask you to fix anything spicy for the rest of the year. Same goes for adding chili flakes or hot sauce behind your back.”
“Wow,” she said flatly. “Six whole weeks, one of which is reserved for your heat. What marvelous restraint.”
I slumped forward, resting my head against her shoulder. “Well, it is for me.”
“I know.” Kelsey rubbed my back, her touch as steady and soothing as always. “Which is why I’m inclined to believe you.”
Her agreement gave me a moment’s peace .
A literal moment, ruined by Rory hollering from the entrance of my suite, “What’s the hold-up? I’m starving!”
***
“I’ve got all the gifts from Piper and me,” Kelsey said early Wednesday morning as she reviewed her neatly packed suitcase on the dining room table.
“Gift card?” I asked, perched on the edge of the arm of the couch, giving Kip copious amounts of ear rubs.
“In my wallet. I’ll give it to Pops when we arrive.”
Rory leaned over the walkway railing, holding up the narwhal onesie. “Can I take this? Jenna said she wanted one.”
“Be my guest,” I said, glad to be rid of it.
“Cool!” He scampered back to the guest room. “Oh, I might have borrowed a few of your sweatshirts, too.”
“I only let him pilfer the two you didn’t like,” Kelsey added, toying with her locket as she headed to the kitchen and opened the fridge. “You’ve got lunches and dinner prepped for the rest of the week. And your most reliable snacks—grapes, cheese cubes, bananas.” She closed the door. “At least your stomach is too iffy to binge on trigger foods, so that’s one less thing to worry about.”
“Har-har,” I deadpanned, glancing at the time. “He’s taking too long.”
Kelsey gave me a look, allowing me enough time to shield my ears before she yelled upstairs, “Rory, hurry up! We need to leave.”
“In a minute!” he yelled back.
Kelsey zipped up her suitcase and set it on the floor, her expression clouded with trepidation. “You’re sure about this?”
“Aren’t I better this morning?” I asked, giving Kip a kiss on the top of his head before getting up—slowly, because if I got lightheaded or lost my balance, Kelsey would cancel her trip in a heartbeat.
But I was doing better today. Sure, a headache was still percolating in the background, and I couldn’t stand for too long, but I’d eaten a bowl of oatmeal and berries without issue.
“You seem better, which will have to suffice,” she grumbled. Rolling her suitcase toward the door, she called, “Rory, you have until the count of three. One, two—”
“Wait, wait, I’m coming!” Rory flew across the walkway and down the stairs, his backpack and carry-on suitcase bursting at the seams .
Kelsey and I exchanged a knowing look. He’d probably raided the Beaufeather’s stockroom last night while we were sleeping, amassing a treasure trove of little luxuries that Jenna was bound to love.
I’d end up reimbursing Kelsey for whatever he’d swiped—and the spoiled brat knew it.
“Love you,” Rory said, laying it on thick as he batted his lashes and nuzzled my arm, then darted out the front door.
Kelsey followed at a sedate pace, rolling her suitcase behind her.
I followed them with my work bag, pausing to tell the cats to have a good day and locking the door behind me.
Rory hit the elevator call button and then nodded toward unit 602. “Do you bump into the guys a lot?”
“Not too often,” Kelsey said.
I nodded in agreement. “Our schedules are pretty different.”
“What, no early worms wriggling about, trying to catch a certain pretty, prickly bird?” he teased, bumping our shoulders together.
“No,” I said—just as the elevator door slid open to reveal Wyatt, in all his sweaty, post-workout glory, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt and inadvertently flashing his perfectly sculpted abs.
“Whoa,” Rory whispered under his breath, fingers latching onto my wrist to deliver a series of suggestive squeezes.
I tried to play it cool. Nothing I hadn’t seen before. From a distance. Years ago. Back when he was more of a teenager than a full-grown man. No need to stare—or mentally eliminate his lower stomach as a potential location for an Olympic ring tattoo.
“Oh, hey,” Wyatt said, tugging down his shirt as color flooded his cheeks. He hurried out of the elevator, intending to flee to his loft, only to double back and hold the door for us. He avoided meeting my gaze. “Heading to Tacoma?”
I shot him a pointed look over the tops of my glasses—how did Wyatt know about Jenna’s birthday trip?
“Yup,” Rory said breezily, solving the mystery as he sailed into the elevator. “Can’t wait to see her.”
Wyatt’s eyes flicked to mine for a split second, shoulders hunched around his ears. “They told me about it at the gala.” He gave my siblings a small smile. “Have a great time.”
“Thanks,” Kelsey said, pulling her suitcase into the elevator. She glanced between the two of us and smirked. “Keep an eye on her while I’m gone, would you? She’s been a bit under the weather.”
Wyatt looked alarmed, shooting me a questioning gaze, but since turnabout is fair play, I ignored him as I stepped onto the elevator .
“Uh—sure,” he said, brushing his damp hair away from his face. “Will do.”
“Good.” Kelsey gave me a knowing look before pressing the button for the garage. “Now I can enjoy my trip in peace.”