Chapter 36
Astrid
Exhausted didn't even come close as I dragged myself out of the bathroom and collapsed face-first onto the bed, savoring just a few precious seconds before my stomach started its revenge tour.
Halfway to the bathroom, Aeron’s call came at precisely the worst possible moment. I stopped short, caught between answering him or dealing with my stomach’s furious demands. With a resigned groan, I surrendered to my stomach and ran for round three.
I sat there quietly, reconsidering every choice that had landed me here—mainly my lack of self-control around food, as an eggy burp escaped, smelling like it had been airlifted from a dragon’s ass straight into my nostrils.
I wanted to puke.
When Mabel said she'd prepared every dish specially for me, my heart and my stomach took it very personally.
Aeron had eyed my dangerously overloaded plate warily, even warning me I'd upset my stomach, but I confidently bragged about my ironclad digestion. Ironclad, my foot . Now here I was paying with diarrhea and sulphur burps.
It started somewhere around nine O clock, the first round emptied my stomach, the second drained all my energy, and by the third round my stomach was just making painful bursts of gas.
Nothing was left inside now.
Aeron’s call was ringing again when I made it back. I answered with a weak, exhausted hmm and something in that sound must’ve slipped right through my defenses, because his voice extra softened. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“I’m fine,” I mumbled, his sweetheart somehow making even my stomach’s angry rebellion seem tolerable now.
“Mm-hmm,” he murmured softly. “Now try it again, minus the obvious lie.”
Neither were my intestines, considering round four was already knocking at the door. I squeezed my eyes shut, clenching my fist. Come on, digestive system, give me a break.
“I—I’ll call you back in a minute. I just…need to finish something first.” I gingerly sat on the bed; Standing only made the situation worse.
“Don’t hang up,” he ordered, the sweetheart gentleness instantly swapped for a no-nonsense tone that left zero room for argument. “Whatever it is, do it while we talk.”
“I can’t multitask this!” I squeaked.
“Why not?”
“Do I have to tell you everything? Read between the lines for once in your lifetime, Aeron Ashbourne. I swear, talking to you is like talking to a brick wall.” I yelled, sucking in a sharp breath. “I’m hanging up now!”
He was mid-Astrid when I tapped the red button, threw the phone on the bed, and bolted to the bathroom. Some sounds, like the volcanic eruptions my stomach was seconds from unleashing, should never have an audience, and preferably a soundproof room.
I wasn’t about to tempt fate, even if I felt slightly relieved.
Sprawled across the bed, I debated calling Aeron now or waiting until he'd forgiven my earlier tantrums, but my thumb had zero impulse control, calling him anyway.
I was counting on voicemail, instead, he answered, catching me off guard.
“I…am sorry,” I blurted out, hugging my frog plushie a little too aggressively. “Infinity times.”
“Call me back when you reach infinity plus one.”
“Aren’t you mad at me?” I had expected guilt-tripping or even silence, but instead he sounded amused, affectionate, pretty much everything but angry.
“Should I be?” He asked.
“I called you a brick.” I admitted, sheepishly.
“You called me a dick, asshole, pain in the ass, even Loki,” he added helpfully, sounding entirely too pleased to fan the flames.
My cheeks burned in embarassment. “How many sorry’s do you plan on milking from this?”
“Enough to remind you there are better ways,” His voice dropped, warm and husky, “to say sorry.”
My pulse skittered wildly. “Better ways?”
His voice turned warm, almost velvet, slipping through the phone. “You, at the door in five seconds, kissing me until you forget why you ever apologized.”
“You’re here?” I dragged myself off the bed, ignoring every bone-deep plea from my body to collapse right back down and never move again.
Aeron’s concern was immediate when he saw me. I probably looked like I'd crawled out of a swamp, pale and dishevelled. He stepped closer to brush the sweaty strands of hair away from my face. “You’re scaring me.”
“It’s just an upset stomach.” I said weakly.
“Were you ever planning to tell me?”
I shrank under his furious stare. He looked like a pissed-off demon who'd crossed realms to let me know I'd screwed up.
But then something flickered across his face, like he'd caught himself being the villain, and the anger dissolved into something achingly gentle.
He shut the door behind us, and scooped me into his arms.
“Aeron,” I protested faintly. “I can walk. It’s just my insides that are screwed up, not my legs.” even as my arms betrayed me and slid around his neck.
“Sure. And pigs fly.”
His warmth seeped into my exhausted body as he carried me back to the bedroom, lowering me onto the bed gently, careful and slow, like I was something fragile, something precious.
“Need to run?”
I laughed weakly, covering my face with my hands. “If I do, and you overhear even a second of the horror show going on in there, you’ll be drafting your breakup text before I even flush.”
He lowered my hands from my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Breaking up isn’t even an option, unless you figure out how to erase me completely. And sweetheart, I dare you to try, because I’m going to leave marks on every inch of you, until forgetting me is impossible.”
That was definitely a warning. But instead of alarm bells, I felt butterflies, soft, fluttery wings brushing under my ribs. I liked it, maybe even loved it, this quietly possessive side of Aeron that made me want to set up a cozy little camp right in the center of his heart, and curl up there.
I smiled up at him. “I can live with that threat.”
“Glad we agree,” he brushed his thumb across my cheek. “Now rest. I'll make you something.”
“Nope.” I grabbed his hand quickly, shaking my head so hard I nearly made myself dizzy.
“Food and I are on a break tonight, even tomorrow also.” Just the mention of eating brought back the memories of those rotten egg smelling burps and its merciless partner-in-crime, diarrhea, which was finally considering leaving me in peace.
“Relax, Astrid. I’m not feeding you a steak dinner,” he said gently. When I still hesitated, his voice softened even further, turning quietly persuasive. “I promise, sweetheart, I’m not trying to torture you. But dehydration's worse than food poisoning. Just a few sips—for me?”
I gave a small nod. When he asked like that, for him, my heart didn’t know how to refuse.
He disappeared and came back a few minutes later with a steaming mug of ginger tea and a small pill.
I had absolutely no idea where he'd gotten that, since I definitely didn't keep a stash of medication around.
One sip and nausea twisted my stomach, immediately killing any desire to keep drinking. But this stubborn idiot sat right next to me, eyes never leaving mine, making sure I finished every drop.
“I hate this,” I put down the mug and gave him the saddest eyes I could muster.
Aeron laughed. “You’ll feel better soon. Just rest,” He adjusted the temperature, and pulled the blanket up to my chin. “I’ll be in the living room. If you need anything—”
But as he pulled away, the warmth went with him, replaced instantly by a chill I didn't like at all. I reached out and caught a few of his fingers. “Stay.” I held him firmly. “Please.”
“I really can’t say no to you, can I?” he teased, sliding under the blanket beside me. I immediately moved closer, stealing all the warmth he'd taken away seconds ago.
“You're making things really difficult for me,” he said, even as he opened his arms and pulled me into his embrace. This was the closest I'd ever been to him. On the same bed, curled into his side, breathing in his scent, something distinctly Aeron.
It felt comfortable.
“Aeron.”
“Hmm.”
“You know why I got an upset stomach?”
“Because you had zero self-control over food?”
I shook my head, too drowsy from the pill to properly retaliate. “It’s your mom’s fault,” I mumbled into his shirt. “If she hadn’t told me she made everything especially for me, I wouldn’t have formed an emotional attachment to the food.”
“I’ll let Mom know she’s banned from emotionally manipulating you through food.”
I nodded. “Aeron.” I murmured again.
“Tell me.”
“You know whose fault was that I ended up with upset stomach?”
He tilted his head down and looked at me. “My mom?”
“It’s you,” I accused him. “If you’d actually stopped me from eating instead of being all nice, I wouldn’t be in this mess. Entirely your fault.”
“You're clearly past the point of reason. Go to sleep before you find more crimes to pin on me.”
My eyelids grew heavier, the nausea pill already pulling me into unconsciousness. I drifted off halfway through accusing Aeron, his warmth wrapping around me as sleep took over.