Chapter Seventeen #2
Kylo storms back in like he raided an entire pharmacy. He drops the pill bottles into Zayne’s hands.
Zayne opens several bottles, scanning the labels before pouring a few pills into his palm. “Pain med. Magnesium supplement. Take these.”
I eye the handful of pills with a grimace, then toss them into my mouth, chasing them down with a heavy swig of water. “Thank you.”
Zayne straightens, folding his hands over his knees as he settles into a chair. “Explain what changed. You said your cycles were better before.”
I look between him and Kylo, waiting for Kylo to take the very obvious hint to exit.
“I’m not leaving.”
“Yes, you are,” I counter, my voice gaining a bit of its usual bite. “This is private. Doctor-patient confidentiality.”
“Zayne’s not your actual doctor.”
“But he is a doctor.”
“Still not leaving.”
I’m too exhausted to keep fighting him. I sink further into the mattress, letting my head fall back.
“I was on birth control, which made my periods lighter. I don’t have access to my prescriptions anymore.”
“Heavy cycles can contribute to low blood pressure, which explains why you almost passed out. Discontinuing birth control is a major systemic change that affects your entire body,” Zayne says. “Stress and intense training can significantly exacerbate those symptoms as well.”
Zayne stands and zips his medical kit closed. “Next time, take your supplements and meds first thing. Stay hydrated and avoid intense physical activity if the first day is this rough for you. Rest for the next day or two.”
He glances at the bag of fluids hanging above me, checking the drip rate. “The IV should be done soon. I’ll be back to remove it.”
He reaches the doorway, but pauses. A glimmer of dry wit returns to his eyes. “Two medical emergencies in twenty-four hours, Lia. Should I make you a punch card?”
“Does it come with a prize?”
He snorts. “Survival.”
I expect Kylo to follow Zayne out, but he remains where he is, glowering at me. He clenches his jaw and then releases it, looking like he’s about to say something before he catches himself and goes silent.
“I should feel better tomorrow,” I say.
I don’t want to give him another reason to see me as a weak link.
“Jesus, Lia. You’d rather pass out than tell me you weren’t feeling well?”
“I told you I was tired.”
“That’s different. If you put as much effort into training as you do into complaining, you’d be the strongest one here.”
If I wasn’t so exhausted, I’d laugh. Lately, it’s been one thing after another.
The nightmares, Marco’s constant bullshit, and now this.
“I’ll try again tomorrow.”
“You’re taking tomorrow off.”
“If I feel better—”
“Zayne said rest. Today and tomorrow. That means no training.”
Just as I relax, I remember the abandoned laundry in the dryer. I sit upright and try to stand, but the IV tubing snags, yanking me back.
Kylo’s hand is on my shoulder, steadying me. “What are you doing?”
“I forgot about my laundry.”
He gestures pointedly at the drip line. “You’re hooked up to a bag of fluids.”
“I left it in the dryer…” My brain fumbles for the rest of the sentence. “Never mind.”
“I’ll get it and drop the clothes off in your room.”
“It’s not my clothes, it’s my sheets.”
“You woke up early just to wash your sheets?”
Heat rushes to my face. “I had to. I…”
Kind of ruined them.
His eyes shift with realization. “Next time something like this happens, tell me. I’ll reschedule training. Your health matters more than a few laps.”
He’s gone, leaving the room strangely empty.
When I open my door, I stop in my tracks. Fresh sheets cover my bed, replacing the ruined white ones with a soft lilac set. A brown basket sits on top, along with a folded note.
Essentials to help you get through the next few shitty days.
—K.
I sit on the bed and peek inside. Lavender bath salts. A heating pad. The vitamins and pain meds Zayne told me to take.
A lump builds at the base of my throat.
A knock sounds at the door. When I crack it open, Kylo stands there with containers of food. “You hungry?”
“I am.”
He steps inside, sets the containers on the table, and pops the lids. The scent of seasoned meat and lime fills the small space. “Taco and burrito night.”
My brain can’t comprehend the sight of Kylo standing here so casually, like we’ve done this a hundred times. After the sheets, the laundry, and the basket, this simple meal is a final blow to my defenses. I suck in a breath to keep the tears from spilling.
Get it together, Lia. You’re not crying over tacos and bath salts.
“Thank you for all of this,” I murmur, my gaze drifting from the laundry basket to the lilac sheets, then to the food.
“Do you feel better?”
“Much. The pain meds are doing their job.”
He nods toward the chair, his expression softening just a fraction. “Let’s eat.”
After sitting down, I point at the basket resting on the lilac sheets. “How did you know what to buy?”
“I have experience living with a very loud, highly expressive sister.”
“I bet that was fun.”
A shadow of sadness crosses his expression. “I never thought I’d miss a hormonal Blair.”
“Will you tell me about her?” I take a bite of my burrito, the spices warming my nose and sinuses. It makes my eyes water, but it’s worth it.
“She was the glue here.” His gaze drifts toward the window.
“Back when more people lived at the compound, before they moved to Elijah’s, Blair was the only woman.
And the youngest. She put the guys in their place whenever they tested her.
She cooked like a damn pro and kept us fed. We rarely ate takeout.”
“Sounds like that no-nonsense streak runs in the Radshaw family,” I say, hoping to lighten the mood. I wish she were still here—for Kylo, and so I could watch her put these men in line. “What about before the compound?”
“She was a dancer. Ballet, tap… always singing and twirling around the house. When I started training her, she picked things up faster than anyone I’ve worked with.
Her movements were seamless.” He clears his throat, his eyes softening.
“I think you would’ve liked her. She was a firecracker. Spoke her mind. Led with her heart.”
My heart swells at the admission. Though she’s gone, he carries her with a warmth I feel as clearly as my own.
For the rest of the night, I sit curled in my chair with my burrito forgotten, listening as Kylo shares more stories about Blair.
One flows into another—how she once dyed Carter’s hair pink after losing a bet, how she stole Kylo’s car without a license and left it empty ten miles from home, then made him walk to get her. His voice grows softer as the hours pass and the shadows in the room lengthen.
Eventually, my eyelids grow heavy. I fight to stay awake, desperate not to miss a single word.
At some point, he gathers the containers and cleans up before helping me into bed. My head hits the pillow and darkness takes me.