Chapter 15

L iam shot up, the comforter puddling around his waist, trying to figure out what had dragged him from sleep. He rubbed his face, pausing when he realized the problem: Jasmine wasn't in the bed. The sheets on her side were wrinkled, but empty. Liam swung around so his feet were on the floor and stretched. God, he was getting old.

He was rolling his neck when he heard groaning from the bathroom, before the unmistakable sound of her throwing up. Shit. He jumped to his feet, raising his fist at the bathroom door, but it wasn't fully closed. "Jasmine?"

He cracked the door. "Don't come—fuck."

She threw up again and Liam didn't hesitate to push into the bathroom and drop to his knees beside her. She was leaning over the toilet, her legs bent at what looked like a painful angle. Liam gathered her hair in his hand, pulling it gently back from her face as she threw up. When she sat up, there were tear tracks streaked across her cheeks .

Before he could say anything, she doubled over, crying out in pain. Fresh tears streamed from her eyes and Liam dropped her hair, running his hand over her back as panic spread through him. "Talk to me, darling. What hurts?"

"Everything," she sobbed, clutching her abdomen. She took several deep breaths before she could sit up, tears still slipping down her cheeks. And Liam must have looked as panicked as he felt, because she immediately started to reassure him. "It's fine, I'm fine," she said, wincing with every word. "It's just my period."

Liam had grown up with two moms, and he'd lived with India for several years. He was no stranger to periods. But he'd never known anyone to be in this much pain.

"This seems pretty bad for a period. Do we need to go to the—" He stopped talking as Jasmine gasped in pain again, grabbing her stomach like she was trying to hold herself together.

"—ER?" he finished when she sat back up. He could see how depleted she was, and he shuffled closer so she could slump against him.

"No. I get really bad periods. This is normal for me. I'll be—" She paused, taking a deep breath and swallowing as if trying to convince her body not to throw up. "—fine."

No part of Liam could accept Jasmine being in this much pain as fine . Hell, her being in any pain was a problem for him. But his panic wasn't what she needed now. They could talk about why this absolutely wasn't fine once she was better.

"What do you need, darling? I've got you."

Jasmine's face scrunched together as a wave of whatever pain she was feeling swept through her. "Can you bring me my bag?"

Liam helped shift her so she was leaning her weight against the toilet and made quick work of grabbing her bag from his room. When he kneeled down beside her and unzipped it, she looked at it like grabbing even the tank top sitting at the top would be the equivalent of climbing Mount Everest.

"What am I looking for?" he asked, and she gave him a grateful, but weak, smile.

"A black pouch. With turtles on it."

Liam dug through the bag until he found the pouch, unzipping it to find a folded pair of black underwear and a couple of pads. "How many?" Jasmine asked as he pulled one out.

"Only two, but we'll get you more. Don't worry."

He didn't ask if she needed help, because he knew her well enough to know she'd push back; Liam just unwrapped the pad and stuck it to the underwear, then set it on top of the bag while he helped her up onto the toilet. She'd gone to bed in just a t-shirt, which made getting the underwear on much easier. As he slid it up her legs, she chuckled, then immediately winced.

"What?" he asked.

"Your parents did such a good job with you—oh, fuck. "

Liam rubbed her back as she leaned over, a single pained sob falling from her lips. "Let's get you into bed and I'll get you some medicine."

He gently tugged her to her feet, supporting her with an arm around her shoulders.

"No, leave me here. I don't want to bleed on your sheets."

"They're just sheets."

"They're perfect, amazing, rich-boy sheets," Jasmine groaned. "Maggie would understand."

"I don't give a shit about them, but I do care about you. Get in bed. Please."

Jasmine grumbled, but he'd take that over her crying in pain. He got her settled into bed, grabbed painkillers, water, and a heating pad and, by the time he even thought to offer tea to soothe her stomach, she was fast asleep in the fetal position.

Liam sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. Seeing her in that kind of pain… He was so far fucking gone. His phone showed it was just past five when he grabbed it from the nightstand to send a quick message to Maggie.

Can you call me when you wake up?

Not an emergency.

He sent the second message as an afterthought, even though, to him, Jasmine being in pain was the epitome of an emergency. He should've been surprised when his phone immediately started buzzing in his hand, but this was Maggie. Of course she was awake at this hour.

With a backward glance to make sure Jasmine was still sleeping, he clutched the phone to his chest to muffle the vibrations as he walked into the living room to answer the call.

"Hey."

"Good morning." Maggie sounded as awake as she always did. Liam was a morning person, but normal morning people weren't Maggie.

Liam stopped in the kitchen and sandwiched the phone between his ear and shoulder so he could fill the electric kettle for tea. Though he would be climbing back into bed with Jasmine the second he was off the phone, to keep a closer eye on her, there was no way he'd be able to fall back asleep. "Why are you awake so early?" he asked, stifling a yawn.

"We have a cat," Maggie said by way of explanation. "We're lucky if she lets us sleep past four. She'll be napping on your dad as soon as we're actually ready to get up, but it is what it is. What's up?"

"Jazz is sick."

He heard a rustle of covers, as if Maggie had sat up suddenly. "Shit. Is she okay? What's wrong?"

Liam explained how he'd woken up to find her throwing up and in pain, trying his best to keep the panic from his voice. "She says this is normal, but it can't be, right? Tell me she's not dealing with this every fucking month?"

Maggie sighed down the phone. "Not every month. It used to be, but with her birth control, she only gets her period every few months. But it's always this bad. And her doctor is useless, but she won't find another one. She'll be—" She cut off just in time for Liam to hear his dad shouting in the background:

"Stop biting my toes, you feral little monster. You're going to make me spill your mom's coffee. Here you go, love. Who's on the phone?"

"Thanks. It's Liam. He has… a friend staying over who's sick. Do you want me to pick stuff up so you don't have to leave her?" she asked, speaking to Liam again, and Liam breathed a sigh of relief. He could've called his moms or asked his dad if Maggie was busy, but that would have required substantially more explanation. Liam had no problem with any of them knowing there was something between him and Jasmine, but that was probably a conversation he should have with her before his dad—her boss—found out.

"That would be amazing, thank you. I have zero idea what she needs, and she's fast asleep again."

"It's cool. This won't be my first emergency Target run. I'll probably be there about ten. I'll bring breakfast."

"You're a lifesaver. I owe you."

"Not this time. Just look after her, okay?"

Liam poured himself a strong cup of tea and grabbed his Kindle from the coffee table, then settled in beside Jasmine, watching the rise and fall of her chest. The pained expression never left her face, and Liam's Kindle stayed untouched on the nightstand.

It was like someone was stabbing her in the uterus with a blunt axe, repeatedly. Jazz groaned, burrowing into the pillow. The very, very soft pillow… Oh shit, she was at Liam's place.

She forced herself to sit up through the pain. How long had she been asleep? She bled through her pads like crazy on the first day of her period. She was going to ruin his bedding. Fuck, fuck, fuck?—

"Hey, it's okay. Breathe, darling."

Jazz jumped, clapping a hand to her chest and immediately wincing at the movement. How had she missed him sitting beside her?

"What do you need?"

"Bathroom," Jazz croaked. Liam jumped over the bed—slowly, as if trying not to shake the mattress too much. Her throat was like sandpaper. Bathroom, water, and, depending on how she felt after that, maybe food.

Liam took her arm and helped her off the bed. She felt steadier than she had when she'd woken up and had to run to the bathroom to throw up. The pain was there, but she wasn't as at risk of doubling over.

"Do you need me to come in?" Liam asked as they paused at the threshold of the bathroom, not a shred of embarrassment on his face. Shit, he'd helped her put her fucking pad on, hadn't he? Jazz's own dad had refused to buy pads or tampons for her and Rose when she lived at home.

"I think I'm okay," she managed, holding onto the wall.

Liam nodded, but didn't look entirely convinced. "Shout if you need me, okay? I'll be right here. I set everything on the counter for you."

Jazz mustered up a grateful smile and hobbled into the bathroom. When Liam said everything , he really meant everything. There were several packages of pads on the counter, in her preferred brand, the tampons she favored when she wasn't bleeding as heavily, wet wipes, and a pack of her favorite comfy underwear from Target in black.

He'd called Maggie, clearly.

Jazz grabbed a pad, a clean pair of underwear, and the wet wipes before all but collapsing on the toilet. She would kill for a bath, but she was definitely too weak. Maybe after some food.

She changed her pad and underwear, thankful she'd only bled through a little. And even more thankful she'd taken her favorite turquoise thong off before bed. It wouldn't be as bad if she knew when to expect her period. But it just showed up every few months like a clingy, unwanted ex who couldn't take a hint. At least it followed the same pattern when she did get it, and it didn't last too long:

Day one: Enough bleeding that she would inevitably become concerned she was running out of blood, and so much pain she would have an existential crisis wondering what the fuck the universe had against people with uteruses.

Day two: Less bleeding, but still too much to let her guard down, and significantly less pain. She would eat the entire contents of her pantry and then order three kinds of takeout—and almost immediately throw it back up. The crying usually began on day two.

Day three-four: The approach of the light at the end of the tunnel. She would cry over every little thing, spend a ridiculous amount of money online shopping, then regret it and try to cancel some of the orders.

Day five: Human again, usually pretty horny, but she'd probably still cry about everything.

Day five felt like a fucking lifetime away on day one.

She finished up and pulled herself to the sink, wincing at her reflection. The bruises below her eyes were blueish-purple, and she'd definitely burst a blood vessel or two throwing up; splotchy red spiderweb like marks dotted her face. Her hair was sticking up at every angle, and her cheeks were mottled with old tear tracks. And Liam had put her fucking pad on. Holy shit, let the ground open up and swallow her whole.

"Jasmine? You okay, darling?"

He was clearly trying to keep the panic from his voice, but Jazz caught herself smiling in the mirror at how thoroughly he was failing.

"Yeah, just finishing up."

The second she stepped out of the bathroom, he was there to take her arm and lead her to the bed. Jazz stopped short of sitting down, taking in the waterproof blanket tucked over the sheets.

"Maggie suggested it," Liam said. "She said you'd be worried about the sheets."

"She knows me so well," Jazz replied with a snort that sent a strike of pain through her. She sucked a breath in through her teeth and sat on the bed before the wave of pain overtook her. Liam sat beside her, rubbing her back softly and murmuring words of encouragement while she breathed through the pain.

When she could sit up again, she swung her legs onto the bed and Liam helped her settle against the pillows. "I'll get you some more medicine and the heating pad. Can I convince you to eat something?" She wrinkled her nose, but he added, "Maggie brought soup," with such a hopeful expression that she couldn't help but nod.

She closed her eyes for what felt like five seconds before he was back. He gave her the water and painkillers first, then set the heating pad on her abdomen, before climbing in beside her and propping his laptop up between them.

Jazz breathed in the soup while he opened the laptop, surprised that her stomach didn't turn. "Are we watching porn again?" she asked and then tried, and failed, not to laugh at her own—hilarious—joke. Laughing was bad. Laughing hurt.

Liam just rolled his eyes. "I thought we could catch up on LoveStruck." He pulled up the episode they'd missed while they were at dinner with her parents and Jazz could have kissed him, if not for the risk of throwing up on him. This was exactly what she needed to make her feel better. Maggie wasn't the only one who knew her well. She was so lucky to have Liam in her life.

She leaned her head on his shoulder in lieu of a kiss. "God, I love you." The words slipped out before she could stop them, and her heart fucking stopped. "I mean, that's not what I, um, I?—"

"Uh-uh. Rule number four: no take backs," was all Liam said, before hitting play and digging into his soup, as if she'd said nothing at all.