Forbidden Harmony (Harmony Falls, Book Three), page 27
“What are you working on?” Addison said.
He showed her his sketch. It was a bear’s skull surrounded by colourful flowers. A flush of pride went through him when Addison said, “Wow. That’s amazing. You’re such an incredible artist. You and Harper would have a lot to chat about when it comes to art.”
“Thanks,” he said.
For a while, the only sound in the room was the clicking of Addison’s knitting needles. He made a few adjustments to his sketch before googling some images of flowers. As he studied them, he rested one hand on Addison’s thigh. Her apartment was a bit on the warm side even with the air conditioning, and she had changed from her yoga pants into cotton shorts before climbing into bed. He couldn’t resist touching the smooth softness of her skin.
When his phone dinged, he dug it out of his pocket and checked his messages before texting back. Addison didn’t ask, but he said, “It’s Gideon.”
“Is he asking you about the barbeque at Kira’s tonight? Grace texted earlier to see if I was feeling better and if I needed a ride.”
“You probably shouldn’t go,” he said. “You’re still sick.”
He supposed she was probably well enough to go for a little while, but he selfishly wanted to keep her to himself for a while longer. If they went to the barbeque, he wouldn’t be able to touch her whenever he wanted.
“I know. I told her I was skipping out on this one.” Addison gave him a quick sideways glance. “What time are you headed over there?”
“I’m not,” he said. “I told Gideon I couldn’t make it.”
“You shouldn’t miss out on the barbeque because of me,” she said. “I’m better now and -”
“You shouldn’t be alone,” he said. “You still have coughing fits that almost make you pass out.”
“Does that mean you’re spending the night?” she said with another sideways glance.
“Probably a good idea,” he said. “Just to be on the safe side. If you’re good with it?”
“Yes,” she said. “I, um, I’d prefer that. You know, just to be on the safe side.”
He grinned at her and rested his hand on her thigh again, giving it a gentle squeeze. After a few minutes, she picked up her knitting and the soft clicking sound started up.
As he scanned the internet for flower images, Preacher tried to identify the weird feeling inside of him. After a moment, it dawned on him.
Holy fuck. He was happy.
“You’re right. This wrapping paper is adorable, and my mom will love it.”
Addison laughed. “I know when you’re mocking me, Lucas.”
He grinned at her. “I’m not mocking you. She really will love it. Thanks for letting me have some of it.”
“No problem,” she said.
He glanced around her living room. “Your place is nice. You like the neighbourhood?”
“I do,” she said. “It’s mostly rentals in this area, but it’s quiet and not too far from downtown.”
“Some of the guys who are transferring from the New Cassel office to the one here are looking for places to rent. I’ll mention this neighbourhood,” Lucas said. “Apparently, according to Kira, my neighbourhood is a hot spot and hard to get into. Which just makes it even more impressive that she found me something.”
“I was texting with Kira today and she said she had an appointment this afternoon with your boss to look at a few houses.”
Lucas nodded. “Yeah, Stark’s in town this week. Construction is almost complete on the office building so he’s doing a final check of it. He mentioned he was looking at houses today when I had coffee with him this morning.”
He glanced at his watch. “Anyway, I should get going. It’s almost seven thirty and I said I’d meet Connor for a drink at the Thirsty Otter.”
She laughed. “It’s the Thirsty Beaver.”
“I know,” he said with a grin. “Do you mind if I use your washroom before I go?”
“Not at all,” she said. “Second door on the left.”
He headed down the hallway as there was a light knock on the door. She checked the peephole and happiness flooded through her. Preacher was standing in the hallway. He had stayed with her Sunday night and all of Monday and spent last night with her too. But when he’d left this morning to go to work, he hadn’t said if he would come by tonight or not.
Honestly, she’d assumed he wouldn’t. They’d spent the last two days holed up in her apartment doing nothing but napping and binge-watching television shows on Netflix. He hadn’t asked her once for sex.
On Monday afternoon, feeling more like herself for the first time since Thursday, she tried to give him a blowjob. At the beginning of her relationship with Harrison, before he decided she was boring in bed, he’d often try to convince her to have sex during her period. He became pouty and dismissive when she refused. She’d learned quickly that giving him a blowjob was the only way to bring him out of his bad mood with her.
To her surprise, Preacher refused to let her go down on him. A little confused and a little upset by his refusal, she’d pushed past her embarrassment and asked him why. His explanation that he wasn’t into it if she didn’t get anything in return was still a concept she was trying to fully grasp.
She opened the door. “Hi. Snuck past the security in the lobby again, huh?”
He grinned at her. “Your neighbours think nothing of holding the door for a tattooed biker. You busy?”
“No, come in.” She shut the door behind him. “Did you eat dinner?”
“Nah, worked through it.”
“I made chicken stir-fry for dinner and there are leftovers. Do you want some?”
“Sure.” He followed her into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as she pulled the stir-fry out of the fridge. “How was your day?”
“Good. I stayed home and gave myself one more day of rest, but I think tomorrow I might venture out into the real world and have lunch with Kira and Grace. Kira said she’d swing by and pick me up and we’d have lunch close to the dental clinic. Kira’s got a showing right after lunch so she can’t drive me home, but there’s a bus stop outside of Grace’s clinic.”
She popped the leftovers into the microwave. “Do you want water or juice?”
“Water is -”
“Addison? Thanks again for – oh, hey, Preacher.” Lucas returned to the narrow kitchen.
Preacher’s face paled and then turned red. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Preacher,” Addison said, “stop it.”
“What the fuck is he doing in your apartment, Addison?” Preacher said. Without waiting for her reply, he turned to Lucas. “Get the fuck out of here, asshole.”
“Stop it!” Addison glared at him. “You’re being rude.”
“I don’t fucking care. I don’t want him here with you alone,” Preacher said.
Pissed at his behaviour, she stared pointedly at him. “It’s not your decision to make.”
“Like hell it isn’t,” he said.
“Like hell it is,” she said.
“I’m gonna go.” Lucas grabbed the wrapping paper from the counter and Addison followed him toward the door, shaking off Preacher’s hand when he touched her arm.
“Lucas, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said.
“You don’t have to leave.”
He laughed and glanced at Preacher who was standing at the edge of the kitchen with his arms folded across his chest. “That’s nice of you to say, but I’m pretty fond of my head being exactly where it is, and if I stay any longer your boyfriend is gonna shove it right up my own ass.”
“I’m not her boyfriend,” Preacher snarled.
A healthy dose of hurt mixed in with the anger. She shoved it ruthlessly aside. Two days of Preacher being nice to her didn’t make him her boyfriend.
Lucas opened the door. “See you later, Addie.”
“Bye, Lucas.”
The minute the door was shut, she turned and glared at Preacher. “Are you freaking kidding me?”
“What?”
“You can’t just dictate who comes to my place, Simon.”
“I don’t want you alone with him. I don’t fucking trust him.”
“Lucas is a nice guy and even if you were my boyfriend, you still wouldn’t get to tell me who I can and cannot be friends with.”
“I’m not your boyfriend.”
“I know,” she said. “You’re making that perfectly clear. It’s just sex between us, I get it.”
“Why the fuck was Lucas here anyway? The lessons I’m giving you on fucking not enough? You gotta bring in a pitch hitter?”
“You asshole,” she said. “I told you I wouldn’t have sex with anyone else while we were… were together. Stop being such a dick.”
“This is who I am, sweetheart. You don’t like it, that’s not my problem.”
“This isn’t who you are,” she said. “It’s who you pretend to be because God forbid anyone should see the real Simon.”
“You know what?” He pushed away from the counter. “I don’t need this fucking bullshit. I’m done giving you sex lessons.”
“Fine by me,” she said.
He stomped past her, jerked open the door and slammed it shut behind him.
She cursed in frustration before stalking back to the kitchen. The microwave beeped and she yanked the stir fry out and set it on the counter. She stared blankly at it before bursting into tears.
“You okay? You don’t look so hot.”
Preacher glanced up from his tablet. The shimmering lights hovering at the edge of his vision brought on a dull sense of panic. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?” Nix leaned against the table. “Seriously, man, you look sick.”
He gave up trying to work and shut off his tablet. He had maybe thirty minutes before the pain started. Another wave of panic washed over him, and the shimmery light of the aura flashed briefly. “I’m getting a migraine.”
“Shit.” Nolan had joined them. “I’ll cancel your appointment for this afternoon. You want me to cancel tomorrow’s appointments too?”
“Yeah.” It was gonna be a bad one, he could tell. He had no one to blame but himself. He’d barely slept since storming out of Addison’s house three days ago and lack of sleep was his biggest trigger. He pulled out his phone and sent off a quick text to Gideon, squinting at the screen.
“He get migraines a lot?” Nix said to Nolan.
Nolan nodded. “Yeah. Fucking lays him flat on his back. You gonna go to the sheriff’s?”
Preacher nodded before squinting at his screen again. He needed to call an Uber. The pain was starting, and he wouldn’t make it to Gideon’s if he drove himself.
“Fuck,” he muttered as the throbbing in his head increased.
“Give me your phone. I’ll call you an Uber.” Nolan took his phone. “What’s the sheriff’s address again?”
Preacher mumbled out the address as the door swung open and a man wearing a cowboy hat and boots walked in.
“That’s my two thirty appointment,” Nix said. “Feel better, man.” He clapped Preacher lightly on the back before walking over and greeting the client.
Nolan handed him his phone. “Uber’s on the way. I’ll close up the shop tonight and open tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Nolan.” He felt a wave of gratitude for his apprentice. The guy might never shut the fuck up, but more than once he’d taken care of the shop when Preacher was suffering from a migraine.
“It’s no problem. Your Uber will be here in two minutes. Text me if you need anything.” Nolan squeezed his shoulder and left.
His phone dinged. The aura was so strong now, he was barely able to read Gideon’s reply text. His head throbbing and sick to his stomach, he considered just heading up to his apartment and riding out the migraine alone rather than brave the drive to Gideon’s house, but ultimately headed outside.
He hated being alone when he had a migraine. He needed Gideon there, needed him checking on him every few hours, bringing him water and ice packs, and making sure he wasn’t fucking dead from a goddamn aneurism or something. His not quite articulated fear that the migraine would never end, that he would spend the rest of his life in agony, was dimmed somewhat when he wasn’t alone.
The Uber was waiting for him, and he staggered forward and climbed into the back seat, trying to keep the sudden nausea at bay.
“Hello,” the driver said.
He mumbled out a hello and closed his eyes. He’d be okay. He just needed to get to Gideon’s and then he’d be okay.
Preacher squinted out the window at the building they were parked in front of.
“What the fuck?” he muttered. “Why are we here?”
“This is the address you gave me.” The Uber driver twisted in his seat to stare at him.
“What?” Preacher tried to think past the throbbing pain in his head. “No, I didn’t.”
“Yeah, you did,” the guy said. His cell phone rang – it was loud and shrill, and Preacher could barely stop from grabbing it and throwing it out the window. The driver stared at his cell as it rang but made no attempt to answer it.
“For fuck’s sake,” Preacher growled. “Answer the goddamn thing.”
The driver stared cautiously at him. “What’s your problem, man? You’re sweaty and you look fucked up. You on drugs or something?”
“No,” Preacher gritted out.
The phone rang again and again and with a small groan of pain, Preacher opened the car door. “Thanks.”
“Sure, yeah,” the driver said.
He nearly fell out of the car in his haste to get out. He shut the door and braced his hands on his knees as the car pulled away. The exhaust made his gorge rise and he fought bitterly against vomiting. After a few seconds, he won, and he straightened and staggered down the sidewalk to the building.
He should call Gideon and ask him to come pick him up but the thought of trying to use his cell phone, of sitting outside with the hot sun beating down on his aching, pounding head made him want to cry like a fucking baby.
He couldn’t do it. He needed a soft bed and darkness before his fucking head exploded. He gave Nolan the wrong address to type in by accident and now he just had to hope that she was home and that she would let him inside.
He buzzed her apartment number. The sound made new pain burst through his head and he lowered it and clung grimly to the wall as he waited.
“Hello?”
“It’s me,” he gritted out. “Can I come in?”
There was silence and he was getting ready to beg when the door buzzed open. He yanked on the door handle and staggered into the blessed coolness of the lobby. In too much pain to climb the stairs, he took the elevator. He rubbed the back of his neck as the fire in his brain burned bright. He lurched out of the elevator and down the hallway to her apartment. Before he could knock, the door opened, and he squinted at her as he swayed back and forth.
“Preacher? What’s wrong?” Even Addison’s soft voice seemed too loud.
He grimaced and gripped the doorframe for support. “Migraine,” he managed to spit out.
“Come in.”
Thank Christ, she didn’t ask more questions or say anything else.
He stumbled into her small apartment and leaned against the wall. He needed to take his boots off, but his stomach was churning, and his head was on fire. If he leaned down, he would either pass out or throw up.
He realized that Addison had crouched and was unlacing his boots. She tugged them off his feet before taking his hand. “Come lie down, Preacher.”
Squinting, trying not to vomit all over the back of her head, he stumbled down the hallway to her bedroom. Sunlight streamed through the window and he groaned and shielded his eyes.
Addison quickly pulled the blinds, plunging the room into darkness. He breathed a sigh of relief as she led him to the bed. Remaining silent, she helped him strip off his clothes. When he was naked, she urged him into her bed. She pulled the covers to his waist and left the room.
He kept his eyes closed as his head pulsed and throbbed. It would only get worse and he wondered if he should ask Addison to take him to the hospital. He didn’t want to go. He knew from experience that it would be too loud and too bright and the pain meds they gave would maybe dull the pain if he was lucky. He didn’t need that. He just needed dark and quiet. His head felt like it was going to explode but it would get better. It always did…eventually.
Sex will help.
Yeah, it would. For some migraine sufferers, orgasms helped to ease the pain. Sometimes it even made the pain disappear completely. That didn’t usually happen to him, but an orgasm did provide enough relief that he might be able to avoid going to the hospital. He wondered if Addison would freak out if he masturbated in her bed. He pictured the look of horror on her sweet face when she returned to find him yanking one out and would have laughed if he didn’t believe it might make his head detonate like a bomb. Even thinking about moving his goddamn arm back and forth made him queasy.
Ask Addison to do it. You don’t have to move – she’ll do all the work.
Jesus, he wished his inner voice would just shut the fuck up. He could only imagine what Addison would say if he asked her for a hand job right now. At best, she’d think he was a fucking idiot, at worst, she’d think he was faking the migraine just to get laid.
She was back, he could smell her sweet scent in the room, and he tried not to wince when she sat on the bed and it jostled his aching head. A cold cloth was placed on his forehead and he groaned at the pressure but didn’t move it. Sometimes cold helped.
“Do you have medication?” she said.
“Doesn’t work,” he grunted out before clenching his hands into fists. Fuck, he was going to vomit. He struggled to sit up as the cloth fell to his lap with a wet plop. She pressed her hand against his chest.
“What’s wrong?”
“Gonna barf.” He was about three seconds from throwing up all over Addison and her bed. He’d never make it to the bathroom in time.
A bucket was pushed into his hands and he immediately vomited into it. He threw up again and again until his stomach was empty, and he felt shaky and weak. He dry-heaved a few times as she rubbed the back of his neck with her cool hand. When he was done, she helped him ease back onto the bed. The bucket was pulled from his hands and a cool cloth wiped his mouth.
