Chapter 5
5
Janie
SHE MUST HAVE consumed more whiskey than she thought. It almost seemed like Devon was talking about her period like it was no big deal, and she'd been around enough grown men to know that particular bodily function creeped them out worse than a plague would.
"Come on." Devon pulled her toward the attached bathroom. "Keep moving."
Yeah. She was either completely shitfaced or in the fucking twilight zone. Possibly dreaming, though this wasn't anything like the dreams she'd had about Devon before. Those dreams—which she did her best to forget—were no doubt conjured up by the deepest, darkest, most self-sabotaging parts of her brain. It would make sense this particular scene was being concocted by the same, fucked-up location in her cerebrum. That’s why, when she woke up tomorrow, she’d pretend like this dream never happened too .
Except the weight of Devon's hand as it rested on her still aching back felt tragically real. As did the familiar gush that came when she stood from the bed.
"I'll wait out here." Devon urged her into the small master bathroom. "Yell if you need anything."
She shot definitely-not-dream-Devon a glare. "I'm pretty sure I know how to handle this. I've been doing it since I was eleven."
He angled a thick brow, looking just as unimpressed by her snark as he always did. "Hopefully not usually while under the effects of pain pills and Jack Daniels."
She shrugged. "Whatever it takes." Before he could lecture her on the dangers of concocting codeine and alcohol, she slammed the door in his face, holding onto the vanity for balance as she made her way to the toilet. Undoing the front of her jeans took longer than normal, since it felt like every muscle in her body was moving slower than they should be. She wasn't mad about it, especially since that was likely the reason her uterus was no longer trying to claw its way up her spinal cord.
Once her pants were undone and at her knees, she dropped to the toilet and investigated the wreckage. Day two of her period had always been the worst, and this month was no exception. As much as she hated to admit it, Devon was right. If she’d gone straight to sleep, she would have woken up to not only ruined panties and jeans, but also a destroyed comforter. Even the sheets beneath it were unlikely to have escaped unscathed.
After peeling away the pad she'd put on at the bar, Janie stuck on one of the extra-long , extra absorbent versions she slept in, wrapping the wings around the crotch of her cotton, full coverage panties before standing up and pulling everything into place. She frowned down at the constricting jeans still tangled at her knees. They'd been hard enough to get on when she was dressing before Mariah picked her up, and the thought of wrestling them again held absolutely no appeal.
Under normal circumstances, she would toss them in the hamper and go retrieve a pair of pajama pants, but there was currently a frustratingly overbearing cop in her bedroom. So after wiggling the pants off her feet, she cracked the door. As promised, Devon was right there, looking a little like an eager puppy.
"Everything okay?"
"I'm on my period. Nothing's okay." She pressed her lips together, hating that she was about to ask him for something. Knowing he would hold it against her—along with everything else about tonight—forever. "Can you get in the bottom drawer of my dresser and bring me a pair of pajama pants?"
He gave her a quick nod. "Give me just a sec."
Janie pressed one hand against her lower stomach as the uterus she thought was finally calming its tits reminded her just how fucking much hell it could bring. Enough that she'd exceeded the reasonable limits of Vicodin and whiskey, and it was still marching around, banging its fucking drum.
"What about these?" Devon stepped back into view, holding up her softest, stretchiest pair of PJ bottoms. "These seemed like they would be the most comfortable."
Janie snatched them away, just as irritated at his helpfulness as she had been at his lectures. "Thanks." Closing the door between them, she leaned against the sink base and slowly worked her legs into the supersoft jersey, sighing a little as she settled the un-restricting waistband into place.
Reaching for the doorknob, she paused. Skimming her tongue across the front of her teeth, Janie turned to the sink and grabbed her toothbrush. Once her teeth were clean, she figured she might as well spend a couple extra minutes scrubbing down her face, so after pulling back her hair, she washed away the makeup she’d put on earlier and then smoothed a layer of moisturizer over her skin. Everything took ten times longer than normal, because the Vicodin and whiskey she consumed—which were no longer doing the job she hired them for—still packed enough of a punch to have her loopy and unbalanced.
Keeping one hand on the wall just in case the world decided to tilt again, Janie opened the door and stepped into her bedroom. She blinked, taking in the scene in front of her before blinking again. Surely she wasn't seeing what she thought she was.
But when she opened her eyes again, it was all still the same. The candles on her dresser were still lit. The glass of water was still on her nigh tstand, placed directly on top of the coaster she kept there. The throw pillows she put into place every morning were stacked on the chair in the corner, and the duvet and sheets were pulled back.
This had to be some sort of a trick. If it wasn't a dream, and she wasn’t in the twilight zone, Devon must have some sort of self-serving reason for all he was doing.
"I plugged in your heating pad and put it on the middle setting." Devon reached out to steady her as she rounded the bed. "I wasn't sure how warm you liked it, so I figured you could adjust it from there." He waited as she sat down, propping her back up against the bed pillows still in place since it felt odd to fully lay down with him here. Once she was situated, he tucked the covers around her. Then Devon held out a plate of crackers smeared with peanut butter.
She pressed the heating pad to her abdomen as she studied the offering. "What's that for?"
"You need to eat something, otherwise you're going to be sick." He settled the plate on her lap. "Crackers will help settle your stomach and the peanut butter will give you a little protein." He tipped his head, lips curving into a grin. "Plus it tastes good."
And she was back to being sure she was dreaming. It was the only reasonable explanation for why Devon Peters was standing beside her bed, all decked out in his uniform, smelling fantastic and grinning as he talked about how good something tasted. Dre aming was also the only explanation for the hard right turn her brain took at that statement, especially since not an inch of her felt sexy or desirable at the moment.
He tipped his head toward the plate. "Eat. I need you to sober up before I go."
"Fine." She picked up one of the crackers and shoveled it in, chewing through the sticky, sweet, salty goodness that checked all her mid-period boxes. After swallowing down three of the six, Devon passed over the water.
"Drink half of that."
She rolled her eyes but took a healthy swallow, washing down the tasty, but gluey, combination of cracker and peanut butter. Once she was finished drinking, he took the glass, motioning at the three remaining crackers. "Finish those up." His expression stayed serious as she worked her way through the rest. "No more pills tonight, got it?"
“Sure.” She grabbed another cracker, refusing to acknowledge how oddly good they tasted. Must be the alcohol, even though its effects were rapidly diminishing, leaving her less blurry, but more uncomfortable.
“What did you take for the pain earlier?” Devon watched intently as she finished up her late-night snack.
It wasn’t his business, but she found herself telling him anyway. “Vicodin.”
Devon passed off the water when the crackers were gone and took her plate. "You need to get all the alcohol out of your system. They’re both d epressants, and mixing them was a terrible fucking idea."
She finished swallowing down the water and shoved the glass in his hands. "That's easy for you to say. You don't have to deal with cramps so bad it feels like your insides are going to explode."
"That is true." Devon walked out of her room, and she listened as he switched on the sink. A minute later, there was a jostling of dishes, then he was right back in her room, invading her personal space in a way she would likely never be able to forget. "But I have seen what happens when you start taking too many things at once, and I really don't want to wake up tomorrow and hear someone found you unresponsive and had to take you to the hospital."
"Stop being dramatic. It's really not that big of a deal, I promise." She slowly shifted her way down the mattress, wincing a little when the movement exacerbated the sympathetic tightening of the muscles in her abdomen and lower back. "If it was going to kill me, it would've done it way before now."
Devon’s mouth flattened into a deep frown, moving her attention to the perfect shape of his lips. "That's not how that shit works, Janie. It just takes once. One time of underestimating how much you drank or forgetting how many pills you've taken."
"Listen, I know you think you're being helpful and that it's your job to take care of me and tell me how I should live my life, but until you’ve dealt with the lining of one of your organs deciding to ta ke over your insides, you can fuck right off."
Devon’s frown became deeper, his hazel eyes moving over her as she tried to find a comfortable position. "You have endometriosis?"
Her head bobbed back, eyes jumping to his. "You know what that is?"
Devon sighed, like he couldn't believe she'd even asked. "I have three daughters that I'm raising on my own. I've had to Google just about everything that has to do with the female reproductive system so I can help them deal with all the bullshit that comes with it." He stepped closer, lifting the covers. "Roll over and lay on the heating pad."
She narrowed her eyes. "Why?"
He heaved out another long sigh. "Just trust me, all right?" He held the blankets out of her way. "I know I haven't been through as many periods as you have, but I'm kind of becoming a professional at helping get rid of cramps."
His faith in his skills was amusing enough she laughed. "Sure you are." Her trust in him had nothing to do with why she rolled over and positioned her belly on the heating pad. It was desperation. The off chance that he could ease her suffering even the tiniest bit. Turning her face his way, she tried to relax. "Let's see this miracle cramp cure you've figured out."
The bed sagged as he sat down next to her, hesitating a second as his eyes lifted to her face. "Can I touch your lower back?"
Jani e scoffed. "I already said you could show me whatever witchcraft you think you know."
Devon’s expression remained serious. "Again, I have three daughters. I’ve spent a lot of time teaching them that no one gets to touch them without clear consent." He shook his head. "And I'm not a fucking hypocrite."
She was circling back to thinking she was in the twilight zone. A man who not only wasn't disgusted by menstruation, but also didn't jump at the opportunity to get his hands on her? Definitely some sort of alternate universe.
“Fine.” Adjusting where her face rested against the pillow, she closed her eyes, needing a little space from a moment that wasn’t going at all the way she expected. "Yes. You can touch me."
She held her breath, expecting Devon’s touch to be hesitant and cautious, considering his concern over touching her, but the hands that pressed into her skin were anything but. Each move was strong and steady as he worked his fingers into the tense muscles at the base of her spine.
That was one of the worst parts about the kind of cramps she got. They were all-encompassing, slowly involving nearly every part of her, leaving her not only in pain, but also nauseous, hunched over, and lightheaded.
"Too hard?" Devon’s voice was low and deep.
And once again had parts of her that had no business getting any ideas, perking up.
Janie shook her head. "No." She bit her lip, to the point she could taste blood, but it was no use. At some point she had to exhale, and when sh e did, a moan slipped free.
It was probably only because it had been years since she'd been touched this way. It was the same reason she’d accidentally hugged him earlier when he helped her out of the car. The alcohol and the pain medication had her a little out of her head, and the needy, lonely part of her took full advantage.
And as much as she hated to admit it, being held tight like that was really freaking nice. For just a moment, it felt like she wasn't alone. Like someone else had her back. Of course, she knew that wasn't the truth. Devon wasn't here because he genuinely wanted to help her. He was driven entirely by obligation and the dad code. The man was always willing to provide assistance, but would take the opportunity to tell you what you should be doing, or offer a lecture on why you needed to be more responsible.
He was an ass, but he could also give one hell of a backrub. And without realizing it, she was soon drifting off to sleep, dozing as he worked his way along her spine, easing the discomfort she'd tried to combat on her own.
His touch relaxed her so much, she barely noticed as his hands slid up the center of her back before dragging away. Even the press of something cool and slightly weighted against her lower back didn't fully wake her up. She was too calm. Too comfortable.
Too content.
Something she'd never, ever been.
And it would figure he’d be the one to accomplish it .
Ass.
THE SOFT LIGHT of morning filtering through the open blinds was her first reminder she hadn’t put herself to sleep. The glass of water and Advil on her nightstand was the second.
Janie lifted her head, swiping at her unrestrained hair—clue number three—as she scanned the room, half expecting to see Peters glowering at her from the corner. But her room was empty.
Choosing to ignore the tug of disappointment in her gut, she slowly worked her way upright, moving carefully to avoid reinvigorating any of the muscles taking part in her body’s monthly rebellion.
While day two was normally the worst, day three of her period wasn’t much better, but this morning she felt shockingly decent. Her head didn’t hurt. Her back and abdomen weren’t tense or sore. Even her stomach didn’t feel queasy in spite of how she’d spent the night before.
"Ugh." She groaned, hating the reason her body wasn't as raging as normal.
" I've got three daughters, Janie. I know how to magically cure cramps ." She mimicked his voice as she picked up the ibuprofen and knocked it back, swallowing both pills down in one gulp. She was about to set the glass down when she noticed a small piece of paper with shredded spiral connectors still clinging to the top.
Drink it all.
She rolled her eyes but downed the rest of the water before picking up the note, giving it a second read.
‘Huh.” Apparently that little book Peters carried wasn't completely filled with all the ways she'd fucked up her life after all.