“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.