31. Jonas
Chapter Thirty-One
Jonas
Ishould have known I'd get a bad migraine.
The day had not only been too full, too loud, but too amazing. That always did it.
I shouldn't have come in here to sleep, because right now, Kaia has her arm stretched across Lachlan's abs, her hand holding onto my shirt. She did it while she was sleeping, and I almost melted in the moment, but now I'm worried I'm going to wake her up, or any of them.
I hate disturbing them. They all look so peaceful, even Adrian, who usually doesn't know what peace is. I gently get up, and luckily, Kaia moves her hand straight to Lachlan at the disturbance.
I pad out of the bedroom and head to my own. I grab some migraine medicine from the medicine cabinet and down it with half a bottle of water. I probably didn't drink enough fluids today, either.
The shower is supposed to help—hot water and quiet.
I brace my hands against the tile, letting the water hit the back of my neck, trying to breathe through the pressure building behind my eyes.
But it's too bright, even with the lights dimmed.
And it's too loud, even with just the spray of the water against my skin.
My stomach twists.
"Shit," I mutter and squeeze my eyes shut.
Breathe. In. Out.
The world tilts, and my hands curl into fists against the wall. The nausea hits fast, sharp, and immediate. No, not now. Along with the migraines, I'm horribly afraid of puking, so I just give myself even more anxiety when this happens. Fuck.
Then the door opens, and I don't need to look to know it's Adrian.
He whispers, "Hey."
I flinch at the sound, letting my head drop slightly as another wave of nausea hits. Adrian steps in the shower fully-clothed, reaching for me.
I jerk away. "Don't," I rasp. It's too much. Touch would just make everything worse.
"Okay," Adrian says softly, stepping out of the spray. The lights dim further, thank goodness, and his voice drops lower, softer. "I'm right here. You're okay."
I swallow hard, my stomach twisting again.
Adrian asks, "Did you take your emergency med?"
I mutter, "No." There's some silence and I hear him getting into my medicine cabinet. My fingers tighten against the tile, and I say, "A."
"One sec." I hear the water from the tap, and then he holds out a pill and a little glass of water in front of me.
"I…Can you help me out?"
"Yeah, take this first though."
"I'm going to puke."
He turns off the water and helps me out slowly, and I know it's going to happen.
"I'm right here. You're okay."
I hate this part. The loss of control. I move, and it’s a big mistake. Pain flares behind my eyes, sharp and blinding.
I gasp, and Adrian moves fast as a trash can appears in front of me. I barely register it before I'm sick. It's humiliating, painful, and uncontrollable. Tears burn behind my eyes. I hate this.
"Shhh," Adrian murmurs quietly. "You're okay. You're okay."
I shake my head weakly.
He stays with me until the retching passes and gets me to take the rizatriptan. My hands shake slightly as I place the pill on my tongue, drink the water, and swallow. Adrian helps me up and dries me off with minimal touch.
My bed feels like relief—cool, dark, and safe. I collapse into it, my body still trembling slightly as the aftershocks roll through me.
"Hey," Adrian says quietly. "Deep breaths." His hand moves to my hair, careful and specific, like he always is. I can't handle anything else, but Adrian knows exactly how to provide comfort without being overwhelming.
My breathing slows, just a little. "A," I whisper again.
"I'm right here." My pointer finger finds his shirt, and I keep it there.
It's all I can manage. I let the small point of contact ground me.
I focus on the feel of the fabric beneath the pad of my finger, on breathing, and the slow, steady rhythm of Adrian's hand in my hair.
Until, finally, the medicine starts to work.
The pain dulls, and the nausea eases. The world stops spinning impossibly fast, and heavy exhaustion hits. I let myself sink into it. Because I know my pack has me. And I don't have to hold everything together alone.