Chapter 13

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

Ashlyn squinted as she drove. Her head was killing her. She hadn’t had a headache this bad in a very long time. She’d considered calling Lexie earlier and telling her she needed to take the afternoon off, but her clients were depending on her to bring them food, and besides, Lexie was helping Carly with some last-minute details for her wedding, which was in a week and a half.

So she’d taken some aspirin and pushed through the afternoon, her headache getting worse with each minute that passed. By the time she’d walked up to Jazmin’s house, Ashlyn thought she was gonna puke on the front porch.

The second the young mother saw her, she’d taken the food from her hand, then ordered her to go home. Of course, Brooklyn, James, and Christi’s nurse aide had all said the same thing. Fortunately, because she hadn’t stayed to chitchat with anyone today, she was actually done sooner than usual.

She’d sent a text to Lexie, letting her know she was done and heading home to nurse a headache, then concentrated on not wrecking as she made her way back to her apartment. She pulled into a space, not caring that her car wasn’t perfectly straight between the lines. Grabbing her purse, Ashlyn breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, attempting to stave off the nausea that was becoming overwhelming.

More thankful to be home than she could ever remember, Ashlyn shut her apartment door behind her. She dropped her purse on the floor, unconcerned about where it landed, and walked toward her bedroom. She stumbled, walking as if she’d drunk an entire bottle of tequila by herself, her only thought to get to her bed.

Without turning on any lights, and taking the time to pull her curtains closed, Ashlyn finally made it to her bed, sighing in relief. Before she could collapse, though, she knew she needed to get comfortable. Taking off her shorts and shirt—she’d already kicked off her flip-flops at the door—she reached behind her to unhook her bra. She knew from experience that any kind of clothing rubbing against her skin made her feel claustrophobic and seemed to exacerbate the pain in her head. It made no sense, but she was willing to do anything to reduce the throbbing in her skull.

Once naked except for her panties, Ashlyn carefully lay back. She didn’t crawl under the covers. Simply closed her eyes and did her best to relax.

The ringing of her phone on the nightstand not only scared the crap out of her, but made her head throb harder when she jerked at the sound. Kicking herself for not putting it on silent mode, Ashlyn blindly reached for her cell.

“’Lo?” she said, not even looking at the display. The mere thought of keeping her eyes open made the nausea worse.

“Ash? Why are you home already?”

Slate.

“I’m okay,” she said, even though it was a lie. She wasn’t fine. She wanted to die. But there was nothing Slate or anyone else could do to help her. She just needed time to rest. She’d be all right. Eventually.

“That’s not what I asked, babe,” he said.

Ashlyn winced. His voice sounded extremely loud. Even the sound of her own voice made the pain worse.

“I have a headache,” she whispered. “Finished deliveries and came home.”

“Shit,” Slate said, his voice lower than it had been, which Ashlyn was extremely grateful for. “I’m on my way.”

“No, Slate, there’s nothing you can do.”

“Is your door unlocked?” he asked, ignoring her protests.

“Um…” Ashlyn couldn’t even remember if she locked it after she’d arrived home or not.

“Never mind. If it is, I’ll find a way of getting to you.”

“I can get up and let you in,” Ashlyn said, not sure if she actually could or not, but feeling like she should say it anyway.

“No. Stay put. I’m assuming you’re in bed?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

“Are you gonna bust in my door like the badass Navy SEAL you are?” Ashlyn asked weakly. “Because I’m not sure my landlord will appreciate that.”

Slate chuckled softly. “No. Close your eyes and relax, Ash. I’ll be there soon.”

“They’re closed. The light hurts,” she whined, wanting to kick herself for sounding so pathetic. “Wait, what time is it? Are you allowed to leave early?”

“Yes. I’m leaving now. I’ll be there soon.”

“Kay. Drive safe.”

“I will. Bye.”

Without opening her eyes, Ashlyn flicked the small switch on the side of her phone to put it on silent mode and put it back on the nightstand. She concentrated on breathing, in through her nose, out through her mouth, praying the pain would ease soon.

What seemed like a minute after she’d hung up her phone, the quiet sound of her front door opening made her jerk in surprise. She wanted to call out to make sure it was Slate, but knew if she raised her voice above a whisper, she’d definitely throw up.

A second later, the door to her room creaked as it was pushed open. Ashlyn opened her eyes to slits, sighed in relief that it was Slate and not a serial killer coming to chop her into itty-bitty pieces, and shut her eyes tight once more.

“Jesus, babe,” Slate whispered.

Each footstep on the carpet sounded like little jackhammers against her aching head. He wasn’t stomping, was merely walking, but every little noise seemed amplified a thousandfold.

Ashlyn raised a hand and put it against her lips. “Shhhh,” she said in a barely there whisper.

A finger brushed against her cheek, and Ashlyn whimpered. He immediately drew back.

“I’m calling the doctor,” he whispered.

“No. I’m okay,” she told him.

“Like hell you are. You winced at the simple sound of my footsteps on your carpet. You’re lying naked, spread-eagle, and the lines of pain in your brow make me want to fucking kill someone.”

Ashlyn couldn’t help but grin weakly. “It’s just a headache,” she told him.

“Right. And I’m just a sailor. Tell me what you need,” Slate ordered.

“Dark. Quiet. And to lie here until the pain goes away.”

“You take something?” he asked.

“Aspirin.”

“That it?”

“Yeah. I don’t get these often enough for a doctor to prescribe me something stronger.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Slate said with confidence.

Ashlyn wanted to open her eyes to look at him but knew that would be a bad idea. She settled for reaching out blindly and squeezing his arm. “Like you picked my lock to get in?” she teased half-heartedly.

“Babe, your door was unlocked. I just waltzed right in. But for the record, my first plan was to find your landlord and make him or her open your door for me. If that didn’t work, I was going to find a maintenance person. And as a last resort, yeah, I was gonna pick your lock. Nothing will keep me from getting to you when you need me.”

Even though talking, and having someone talk to her, was painful as hell, his words made Ashlyn’s inner romantic soul swoon.

“And I’ve got a few connections. I’ll find you something more heavy-duty to take for the pain.”

“Okay.”

He gently pried her fingers off his arm and kissed the back of her hand, then placed it on the mattress. She wasn’t really surprised that he was astute enough to immediately realize kissing her anywhere on her face or head would cause more pain. “Sleep, babe. I’ll be back in later with something for you to take.”

Ashlyn started to nod, then thought better of it. “Thanks.”

She heard him walk over to the window, and the curtains made a shuffling noise. She assumed Slate was making sure they were as closed as they could be. Then he walked back to her side of the bed, stood there for a moment, and finally left the room. The door clicked as he closed it behind him, leaving Ashlyn alone once more.

Just knowing he cared enough to stop by made her feel good. She wished she was in better shape to spend time with him. The days he’d been back since his last mission had been good. Very good. Their relationship seemed even more solid, as if the time away had proven the old adage right. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Except neither of their hearts were involved. Yes, they liked and respected each other, but that was it. They were lovers now…but when things ran their course, they’d go back to being friends.

A little voice in the back of Ashlyn’s head was screaming that she was being naïve and not acknowledging what was right in front of her face. Then again, her head was screaming with pain as well, so maybe that was all she was hearing.

Now that she was home, in the dark, lying supine on her bed, Ashlyn let her mind go blank. Slate coming to check on her meant the world. And she’d thank him profusely as soon as she was able. In the meantime, she’d just take a little nap.

* * *

Slate sat at Ashlyn’s table and ran a hand through his hair in agitation. She was in so much pain, she hadn’t even thought to lock her door behind her when she got home, and dropped her purse on the floor just inside. And the way her brow was so deeply furrowed told him exactly how bad her head hurt. Not to mention the fact that she was naked except for her panties, as if the very idea of anything touching her skin made the pain worse.

In any other circumstance, he would’ve gotten turned on to see a practically naked Ashlyn lying spread-eagle on her bed, but not today.

When he’d absently checked the tracker app to see Ashlyn’s progress on her delivery route, he was surprised to find her at the apartment. It was way too early for her to be done.

He’d stood up from his meeting without a word and stepped out of the room to call and check on her. He hadn’t even thought about what he was doing. The team was researching an increase in hostilities in Afghanistan, and it was looking like they would most likely be heading out once again in a couple of weeks.

But his mind was as far from the desert as it could be when he heard the first word out of Ashlyn’s mouth. She was hurting, and he needed to do whatever it took to make it stop.

Mustang had come out of the room to make sure everything was all right, and Slate had briefed him on what was happening and where he was going. Without hesitation, Mustang nodded and told him to take care of her, and let him know how Ashlyn was doing.

After making sure she was as comfortable as possible, Slate sent a text to Mustang, asking for a favor, and his friend had called immediately, saying he’d talk to a doctor they knew on base and would bring a stronger painkiller to Ashlyn’s apartment after he left work.

Slate wanted the drug now, but he had no choice but to wait unless he wanted to leave Ashlyn alone again. He definitely didn’t. So in the meantime, all he could do was sit and worry about the woman in the other room who’d tried to be so strong, to reassure him that she was fine, when she was anything but.

He couldn’t turn on the TV. It would be too loud even with her bedroom door shut. He didn’t want to cook anything because the smell might make her more nauseous than she was right now. Drumming his fingers on the tabletop silently, Slate impatiently waited for the minutes to pass until Mustang arrived.

He hated seeing Ashlyn hurting. He rubbed a hand over his tight chest. He wasn’t used to feeling helpless. On a mission, there was always something to do. Decisions to make. But he literally couldn’t do anything to help in this situation. He couldn’t hold her, as that would cause her pain. He couldn’t kiss her, because again, more pain. He couldn’t sit and talk to her because…pain. Everything he wanted to do would literally just hurt her even more. The thought was enough to make him want to throw up.

The longer he sat there, thinking about what Ashlyn was experiencing, the more his mind whirled and his paranoia increased. Could she have a brain tumor? She needed to get a cat scan. Or MRI. He’d go with her to see a doctor and whatever was wrong, they’d deal with it together. If she thought he might break up with her because she had cancer, or a tumor, or whatever the doctor found, she was wrong.

Realizing how crazy his thoughts had gotten, Slate took a deep breath.

It was a headache. She said she got them every now and then. Yes, it was bad—really bad—but she didn’t seem freaked out about it. He had to trust her to know her own body. He’d still encourage her to go to a doctor, if for nothing else than to get some pills in case it happened in the future, but he had to get his shit together.

Ashlyn’s phone lit up with another incoming text. He’d grabbed her phone off the nightstand before leaving the room, not wanting to risk it ringing or vibrating while she was trying to sleep off the pain. He shouldn’t have been surprised she’d already turned it to silent, but he wasn’t going to go back into the bedroom and possibly disturb Ashlyn by returning it.

She’d been getting texts pretty much nonstop since he’d sat down. Elodie, Lexie, Kenna, Monica, and Carly had been sending her notes. Apparently, Lexie had told Carly that Ashlyn had a headache, and word had spread from there.

Slate read the texts the women had been sending. He could see them in the pop-up notifications without having to unlock the phone.

Elodie: Sorry you’re sick. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll make you some tomato soup. And before you say ick, trust me, I make kick-ass tomato soup.

Kenna: Carly told me you have a killer headache. That sucks. Call me when you feel better.

Carly: I hope you don’t mind that I told the others you were sick. You need to concentrate on getting better so you don’t miss my wedding. I know, that’s selfish, but I can’t imagine you not sharing my day with me. So get better soon!

Monica: Pid told me you weren’t feeling good. I’ve had a few bad headaches, and I’ve found that lavender really helps. If you aren’t better tomorrow, I’ll bring you a sachet.

But it was the last text, from Lexie, that made Slate frown.

Lexie: I’m so sorry you’ve got another headache. You should’ve let me know earlier and I could’ve taken over your shift or something. I know how bad they can get. Last time you went three days without eating, and that’s totally not cool. So if you’re still feeling shitty tomorrow, let me know and I’ll bring some stuff you can eat without having to cook. Okay? Love you.

He didn’t even think about what he was doing. He picked up his own phone and clicked on Lexie’s name. He hadn’t ever sent her a text before, had no reason to communicate privately with Midas’s woman. But he couldn’t stop himself now.

Slate: This is Slate. I read the text you sent Ash on her phone. I’m at her place now. These headaches last for days?

Lexie: Oh! I’m so glad you’re there with her! They don’t usually last that long, but one time she was super sick, and she lost quite a bit of weight because she literally couldn’t get out of bed to eat anything.

Slate: When?

Lexie: When what?

Slate: When was this long headache?

Lexie: I’m not sure. Maybe around six months ago?

Slate closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She’d had a killer headache, for days, and he hadn’t known. For some reason, that irked him. No, they hadn’t been dating six months ago, but they were friends, and he hated that she’d kept it from him.

Lexie: Make sure she drinks lots of water. She isn’t going to want to, because moving hurts, but I read that staying hydrated can help.

Slate: I will. Anything she likes to eat when she gets like this?

He wasn’t happy that he didn’t know the answer to something as simple as what Ashlyn liked to eat when she didn’t feel well, but he wasn’t going to shy away from asking what he needed to know.

Lexie: I don’t think she likes to eat anything. I’d keep it simple. Nothing too hot or cold, because that would probably exacerbate the headache. Plain bread, applesauce, maybe a protein shake if you can get one down her.

Her advice made sense. Slate’s thumbs flew across the keyboard as he responded.

Slate: Thanks. I’ll take care of her.

Lexie: I know you will. Seriously, I feel so much better knowing you’re there. Please tell her that we’re all thinking about her. And maybe you can text me later and let me know how she’s doing?

Slate: I will.

Lexie: Thanks. Ash is always looking out for everyone else. It’s good she’s got someone to look after her for once. Gotta go, Carly needs me. Later.

Slate didn’t bother to respond, knowing Lexie was busy. Another text popped up on his screen. Mustang, letting him know he’d just pulled into the parking lot. Slate got up and headed to the door, not wanting his friend to knock or ring the bell.

In a minute or so, Mustang was walking down the hall toward him. He had a small bag in his hand and handed it over.

“How is she?” he asked.

Slate shrugged. “Not good. Hurting.”

“Right. Well, the doc said ibuprofen can help reduce symptoms of a migraine, but it’s most effective if taken at the first signs of the headache. Once it takes root, it’s usually too late for the medicine to work.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. But he did give me two Topamax tablets. He said sometimes they can help even if it’s not taken within two hours of the start of the headache. He definitely recommends her seeing her doctor and trying to figure out what causes the pain, and to get a prescription for something that will work for her specific symptoms.”

“Thanks. I appreciate this.”

“Keep an eye on her. Since this is a new medicine for her, it’s probably smart not to leave her alone.”

“Wasn’t gonna do that, even if you hadn’t stopped by,” Slate said, feeling irritated that his friend thought he’d do such a thing.

“I know, just sayin’. You need anything?” Mustang asked.

“If you can convince Elodie to give me some time before she storms the castle, I’d appreciate it. And I’m sure Ashlyn would too. I’m guessing by her reaction to me being here, that she hates for people to see her vulnerable and sick.”

“I’ll do my best. But you know my wife. And the others. They like to take care of their own. And Ashlyn is definitely one of their posse.”

Slate nodded. “Sorry I left today without much warning. I miss anything?”

Mustang sighed. “Just the fact that there’s a ninety percent certainty we’ll be heading to the desert.”

“Will Jag miss his wedding?”

“Not if I can help it,” Mustang said firmly. “Of course, he might not get the honeymoon he was looking forward to.”

Slate nodded. He wasn’t all that surprised. But knowing Jag and Carly, they’d make up for not having a honeymoon right after their wedding ceremony when he got back.

“Keep me in the loop on how she’s doing,” Mustang said.

“Will do. Thanks again for coming by.”

“She’s a good woman,” Mustang said earnestly. “Never has a bad word to say about anyone and is more generous than most. Besides, she’s your girlfriend, which means she’s important to all of us. Later.”

As Mustang walked back down the hallway, Slate shut the door, still thinking about his friend’s words. He loved the support his teammates showed each other when it came to their women. It made their group feel even more like a family.

He walked into the kitchen and got a plastic cup out of a cabinet. He dug around and was happy to find a drawer filled with plastic cutlery and straws from takeout she’d had in the past, and had saved.

Remembering Lexie’s warning about giving Ashlyn anything too hot or cold, he filled the glass with tap water and stuck the straw in. He opened the bag Mustang had brought to find a sample pack of the migraine drug with two doses. He popped out one pill and headed for the bedroom.

He pushed open the door quietly and saw that Ashlyn hadn’t moved. He walked over to the side of the bed and got down on his knees.

“Ash,” he whispered.

She didn’t move.

“Ashlyn,” he said a little louder, hating that her brow scrunched upon hearing her name.

“Don’t open your eyes, I’ve got a pill for you to take.”

“Wanna sleep,” she mumbled.

“I know, and you can, after you swallow this down. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah.”

“I brought you water with a straw so you don’t have to tilt your head back to drink. Get up on one elbow and lean toward me. Good, just like that.”

Slate kept his eyes on her face as he moved the cup closer. “Open.”

She did as he asked without opening her eyes.

“Okay, stick out your tongue. I’ll put the pill on it and you can swallow it down with the water I’ve got right here.”

Her trust in him was humbling when she didn’t ask him what kind of drug he was giving her or anything. She just did as he asked, letting him give her the pill. As she swallowed it, Slate said, “Keep drinking. Get as much of the water down as you can. It’s good for you. Promise.”

Ashlyn nodded slightly as she continued to drink through the straw.

Finally, she pulled away and carefully lay back down.

“Good girl. That tablet’ll make you feel better soon, babe.”

“Was it cyanide? Because right about now, that sounds like it would really make me feel better.”

Slate was torn. He was happy to hear her trying to joke, but wasn’t thrilled it was a joke about dying to make her pain go away.

“No,” he told her.

“I was kidding,” she said on a sigh.

“I know. And you should know I’d never give you anything, or do anything, that would hurt you.”

“I do know. But head’s up, while I’m really glad you’re here right now, tomorrow when I’m better, I’ll probably be embarrassed.”

“No need to be embarrassed about anything. You’d take care of me if I was sick,” Slate said.

“I would,” she agreed.

“Okay then. I promised if you took the pill you could go back to sleep. I’m gonna go hang in the living room so you can do just that.”

“Thanks again for being here.”

“Nowhere I’d rather be,” Slate told her, then he leaned over and, as gently as he could, kissed her temple. “Sleep,” he whispered in a barely there tone.

Ashlyn sighed and visibly relaxed.

Backing away, Slate didn’t take his eyes off her face until he’d reached the door. He closed it behind him silently and took a deep breath. She’d be fine. She was strong. He just hated seeing her so helpless and hurting. He had the thought that he was very glad it happened when he was there, and not while he was deployed. It would tear him up to come home and realize she’d been so sick while he was gone.

But it wasn’t as if that could be helped. Soldiers and sailors missed a lot of important occasions in their families’ lives. Births of babies, sicknesses, first steps, birthdays, holidays, deaths of friends and family. But they’d made oaths to serve their country, and unfortunately, missing things back home was a part of that.

Making a vow to live for the moment even more than he already was, Slate headed back to the kitchen table. It was going to be a long night, but he wasn’t going anywhere.