Chapter 16
Sixteen
T he perfect replacement.
What the hell had that meant? The words stuck with Gage for days since Sloane had first said them. He’d thought that maybe it was something she was paraphrasing. Something she added in the heat of the moment. To Gage, a phrase like should change the profile the FBI had put together for the Lover’s Eyes Killer.
He’d spent hours pouring over the police report. Fifteen pages in, there in black and white, was the same phrase. She’d reported it back then, too. Who was she meant to replace? A wife, or girlfriend, seemed like the obvious choice, but something in his gut was screaming at him that it was all wrong.
Shit. Gage rubbed his temples. The throbbing behind his eyes was getting worse. Sloane had curled up at the end of the sofa hours ago, her feet gently pressing against his hip. It would be so nice to just scoop her up in his arms, take her into the bedroom and cuddle her while he slept off the brewing migraine, but they’d gone back to sleeping separately after that first night. She hadn’t had another nightmare, and he wasn’t about to waste any time. Besides, he couldn’t sleep even if he wanted to. What he’d seen in her file was going to haunt him for a long time.
Letters blurred on the screen. Christ, his head was killing him. Gage knew where things were headed, the constant pressure between his temples pulsating and growing with each beat of his heart. He quietly shut the laptop, pressing up off the sofa as gently as possible. It had taken Sloane forever to fall asleep, he’d hate to wake her up again.
After a few minutes in the kitchen, with a fresh pot of coffee brewed and now sitting in a large cup beside his laptop on the table, Gage slid on his glasses and went back to reading over the files. His stomach churned reading through Sloane’s statement. How many times had he been through it? Ten? Fifty? It didn’t matter. Not until every word in that file was memorized. He’d read it one thousand times if that’s what it took. Because then, he would be able to carry some of the burden for her.
“Gage?” Sloane’s sleep-filled voice trickled in from the edge of the kitchen. He wasn’t able to hide the grimace as pain shot through his head. “What are you doing? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m just looking over everything.”
“Again? Kimi told us to let them handle the case. You’re just stuck on boring ‘protect Sloane’ duty. You need to go to bed. Have you even slept tonight?” She wrapped her arms around her waist. Shit, she was cold. Here she was worried about him when he needed to get her settled for the night.
“No. I’m fine. We’ve been on missions three times as long as this before.”
“You’re not in the military anymore, handsome.”
“You’re right. This is more important.”
She pulled the chair out next to him at the table and threaded her fingers through his.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m worried about you. You’re not looking so good.”
“Just a headache from staring at my screen longer than I should have.”
Her fingers reached out, touching the edge of his glasses and tugging them free from his face. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”
“Only when I work at the computer for a long time. They block the blue light. Which is good, I guess, but I know I can’t really pull off the look.”
“Are you kidding me? I almost thought Clark Kent was in the kitchen when I walked in.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I mean, I already know you’re Superman when it comes to protecting me out in the world. Should have guessed you’d turn into his alter ego when you protected me from behind your keyboard, too.” She stopped playing with his frames, setting them gently on the table in front of them both.
“Come on.” She stood, still holding his hand, and tugged him towards the living room. But he didn’t move.
“I have to work on this, Red. And you need to go back to sleep.”
“This is more important,” she whispered, using his own words against him.
“Okay.”
She walked him to the sofa, letting go of his hand as she sat in the corner, situating the decorative pillow Lily had insisted on gifting him over her lap.
“Alright, Clark. Head here, please.” She patted the pillow.
He smiled at her teasing, but his mind stopped him from acting on her directions. “You want me to lay my head on your lap?”
“Yes, that’s the idea.”
“That’s not going to… I mean won’t it be too much? I don’t want to trigger you by being too close.”
“I don’t like seeing you in pain. I’ll be fine. I know I’m safe with you.”
“Red…”
“Don’t think too much about it. Just come over here so we can both relax.”
Her fingers felt amazing as they moved through his hair. She stopped, rubbing at his temples, and he felt some of the tension he was carrying melt away.
“Is this helping?” she whispered, so close he couldn’t help but look to see where she was. There, only a few inches away, were the most unique eyes he’d ever seen. Beyond their beauty, they held an ocean of concern and compassion. It had been so long since he’d seen that directed at him. So long since someone’s touch had felt so good, and so right. “Gage, you still with me?”
“Yeah, Red,” he choked out. “Thank you for this.”
She smiled. “It’s nothing. Can’t have my ferocious defender taken out by a little headache.”
Gage chuckled, reaching up to take her hand away from his head. But he didn’t let go once he had it in his grasp. Slowly, he sat up, relieved when the throbbing dulled to a manageable level. “Come on. Time to get you to bed.”
She nodded, getting to her feet, but not saying anything about the way he led her to his bedroom. There was just that same, sweet smile on her face when he pulled back the blanket for her to slide in under.
“Sweet dreams, Sloane.”
“Where are you going? You can’t keep working, Gage. You need to rest, too.”
“I’m sleeping on the couch, remember.”
“Would you…” she bit into her bottom lip. “I mean, you should sleep in your room.”
His eyes bounced over to the chair in the corner. He’d definitely slept worse places, but there was no way his headache would go away sleeping up like that. “I could stay in here if you’re not feeling safe.”
“Not in the chair, Gage. I would feel better if we slept together.” Her whole face blossomed into the prettiest shade of pink he’d ever seen. “I just mean sleep. I want to make sure your headache doesn’t get worse, and I think I need you close just to feel… safe.”
“Okay, Red. We can sleep together.” He winked, immediately laughing as she let out the cutest little huff and rolled her eyes. She grabbed the edge of the comforter like she was getting ready to pull it over her body more for coverage. “I’m going to sleep on top of the blankets. We can put pillows between us if you think that will help.”
There she went again, biting that bottom lip. It took every bit of strength he had to not reach over and run his finger over the tender flesh. “No pillows.”
“Okay. No pillows.” Gage groaned as he laid his head down. His eyes drifted close almost immediately, so when he felt her hand slide into his, it jolted him.
“Is this okay?” Sloane whispered, her voice so soft and full of worry. Fuck. His control almost snapped, his whole body screaming at him to wrap his arms around her and pull her into his chest.
“Red, for me? This is fucking heaven.”
* * *
Sloane woke to a vicious groan filling the room.
“Gage?” She reached her hand out, trying to find where he was in the bed, but she must have rolled away from him at some point because there was no warmth around her.
“Sorry. I’m fine. Migraine. Just gonna be sick.”
Her eyes flew open and she threw back the comforter. He was hunched over on the edge of the bed, somehow looking even more in pain than when she had fallen asleep. “Here.”
He held up his hand. “Can’t go in there with the light on. I’ll go down the hall.”
“No. Wait a second.”
Sloane took off into the bathroom, shutting off the light and forcing herself to breathe as the soft glow from the nightlight illuminated the space. When she got her heart rate under control, she rushed back to his side, her arms going around his back, steadying his wobbly movements as she helped him to the bathroom.
“Don’t want you in here for this, Red. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll go get some ice for your head. And a soda. Call out if you need me.”
She turned, closing the door just in time to hear Gage start bringing up his dinner. Poor guy.
It only took a minute to grab a bag and fill it with ice. She marched back into the bedroom, letting the kitchen light she’d left on filter through the slightly opened door. It was probably wishful thinking, but Sloane was half expecting him to be sitting back in bed when she got back. Instead, the bed was empty, the comforter still rumpled and thrown haphazardly to the side of the mattress. She cracked the bathroom door open and felt every muscle in her body stiffen as she rushed in.
Gage was laying on the floor, his eyes closed and his face pale.
“Hey,” she whispered. “Gage? You okay?”
“Yeah,” he croaked, not moving a single muscle.
“How long have these been happening?” She couldn’t hide the worry in her voice. The soda teetered on the edge of the sink, so Sloane pushed it in a little further onto the counter top before getting the ice set how she wanted it in the towel.
“After Mel and Mikey’s funeral, I had my first one.”
She sighed, understanding that stress was clearly a trigger for him, and she’d invited in an avalanche of stress into his life recently.
“Right. Okay, I’ve let you handle things your tough, macho way until now.” Her eyes flitted around the bathroom, ticked that she wasn’t seeing what she needed. “Keep your eyes closed. I’m going to put this ice over them.”
“Love you taking charge, Red.”
“See how you feel about that in five minutes, Clark.”
“Mm,” he mumbled, sighing as she set the homemade ice pack over his eyes.
Sloane opened the cupboard under the sink and relief washed over her. She pulled a plastic tub from the bottom, discarding the extra towels being stored inside it, and stepped out of the bathroom once again. It would have been easier if she could use the bathtub to fill the smaller container with hot water, but she knew the noise would be excruciating with the way his migraine was taking over.
With as much caution as she could muster, Sloane made it back into the bathroom. She set the basin down at his feet, reaching out to the leg on the far side and slipping her fingers into the top of his sock before she pulled it off.
Yes, she was touching him. But it was medically necessary. Or at least that’s what she was telling herself. Over. And over. The reminder helped keep the anxiety at bay. She set the first foot into the bucket of hot water, checking Gage’s reaction. He lifted the ice off his eyes and looked at her through the tiniest crack in his eyelids.
“Move that ice pack to your neck,” she whispered.
“Is that an order, ma’am?” he teased.
“Yes, it is.”
As he worked to situate the ice behind his head, Sloane peeled off his other sock, gently placing that foot into the bin as well. They sat in silence while she said a little prayer that the silly practice would provide him some relief.
Sloane ran her fingers up and down his leg as his feet soaked in the hot water. Kimi had done the same thing for her during her recovery, when headaches plagued her after her nightmares.
“How is that working? I swear the pressure feels better in my head.”
“Something about the temperature difference across your body. It tricks your brain into calming everything down.”
“Damn. It’s amazing.” He cracked his right eye open. “And here I thought it was your magic touch really doing the trick.”
“Mm, there might be a little of that too. Never hurts to have some human contact when we’re feeling vulnerable. Some computer nerd I know once told me that.”
His shoulders shook with laughter. “Damn. I’m not feeling that much better. Ouch. Don’t make me laugh again.”
“Shh. Sorry.” Her hand came up to his head and worked through his hair. “We’ll get a full ten minutes in and then you can try to sit up. If it hasn’t truly reset, the change in position will let us know. We can dump this water and I’ll do it again with fresh ice for your neck.”
“You sure that PhD of yours isn’t actually an MD?”
“I don’t have a PhD.”
One of his eyes popped open, searching her face.
“I’m not lying. I don’t have a PhD. I have a PsyD. It’s a Doctorate of Psychology.”
“Hm. Look at that. Learned something new about my girl today.”
Warmth gathered in the pit of her stomach and radiated outward as she reached up to stroke his hair. “Shh. We shouldn’t be talking. Just rest.”
They sat in silence until it was time for Sloane to dry his feet. He was looking better. The color had returned to his face, and his eyes were open.
“Should we try another round?” she asked, looking at the melted ice sitting next to his hip.
“I think I’m okay now. I’m just going to brush my teeth. You should get back in bed. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Let me help get you on your feet first.”
“Red, I’m good.”
“I’m still going to help.” She pushed off the floor, bent over and slipped her arm around his back.
“Thank you,” he whispered as his hands landed on the sink basin.
Sloane grabbed the soda and walked back to bed, placing the can on the nightstand next to Gage’s side. Then she walked around, getting under the covers while she waited for him to come out.
After the water turned on and off a few times, he came shuffling out. His eyes were still half shut, and she could see the movement was tough for him, but he smiled as soon as his eyes landed on her.
The mattress dipped slightly as he settled in next to her. Sloane was laying completely still, her arms down tight to her sides like a mummy under the covers.
And that’s when she made the decision. It didn’t feel right to be separated from him any more. Sloane rolled, pulling the comforter so that she could slide right next to his body. His breathing stopped as she placed her head against his chest and let her hand splay across his belly.
“Is this okay?” she whispered, not daring to meet his gaze.
“I should be asking you that,” he replied.
“I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t want to.”
Gage’s arm wrapped around her back, his hand landing on the bare skin of her upper arm. His fingers traced light circles around and around, soothing her nerves until she melted even further into him.
“This is exactly what I needed. Thank you.”
“Goodnight, Clark,” she giggled.
“Sweet dreams, Red.”