Willow finally sat, the soft couch sinking beneath her thighs. She wasn’t sitting for long. Almost immediately, it wasn’t enough. She lowered to her side, eyes shuttering as she attempted to block out the light, which was threatening to jackhammer into her skull.
She hadn’t stopped. Not for the entire day. Cake and presents and pancakes in the morning, followed by party setup. Then the party itself. And after that came the clean-up. And not just the cleaning at Blake’s house. The second she’d stepped inside her own home, she’d unpacked the leftover food and presents, and then it had been time for Mila’s dinner and bath.
She scrunched her eyes tighter.
She kept telling herself she’d take a break soon. That there was just one more thing to do. But there’d always been another thing after that.
Now she was paying the price.
The throbbing felt like a big pendulum hitting the back of her eyes. Pressing. Cracking.
Frowning, she tried to focus on the sounds from the hallway. Mila was shuffling around in her bedroom, putting on her pajamas. The night had turned into “just make it to Mila’s bedtime”, but suddenly, she wasn’t sure she would. Hell, even rising to her feet felt like too much.
She was so foolish. She should have rested earlier.
Nausea pressed at her stomach.
Where was her phone? She needed to call someone to make sure Mila got to bed and was okay overnight.
Light footsteps sounded down the hall. They were barely a whisper, yet they beat at her skull. The nausea crawled up her throat.
“Mama, are you okay?” Little fingers touched her cheek. “Are you sick?”
The concern in her daughter’s voice had Willow forcing her eyes open. Pain thrashed at her skull, but she kept them open with sheer will. There had been only two other full-blown migraine incidents in the last two years. Luckily, Willow had been close with her neighbor, so she’d sent Mila next door.
Now, she didn’t even know her neighbor’s first name.
“I am sick, baby. Can you get my phone?”
Mila’s brows pulled together as she scanned the room, determination taking over her face. When she walked away, Willow’s eyes shuttered again. She knew she should keep them open, but it was just so dang hard. And now that they were shut, would she have the strength to open them again?
Mila’s soft footsteps grew close, but this time, instead of pounding at her head, they sounded far away. Like she was in a tunnel and Mila was at the other end.
Fear stabbed at her chest. Fear that she wouldn’t be able to call for help. That Mila would be on her own tonight.
Willow tried to peel her eyes open. She really did. But the light against her lids was too bright.
When a voice sounded, she frowned. Even that small movement hurt. It wasn’t Mila’s voice, it was a man’s. Then Mila spoke.
She tried to tug their words closer. Fit them together and make sense of them. But the migraine demanded too much of her attention. A second later the voices stopped, the couch dipped, and a ball of warmth pressed into her stomach.
Mila. She would recognize her daughter anywhere.
She breathed a sigh of relief, having her daughter here and close. Finally, she gave her body permission to relax. White-hot pain still jolted her head, but the combination of silence, stillness, and having Mila against her made it so she could almost forget.
Willow was just lulling to sleep when the sound of the door opening echoed through the room like the returning of a jackhammer. She frowned as Mila left her arms. Soft whispers floated through the room. Through the pain and the fog, she recognized Blake’s voice.
She breathed out the last bit of anxiety.
Blake was here. He’d take care of Mila. He’d make sure everything was okay.
Minutes passed. Maybe five, maybe ten. She was just falling asleep again, her mind darkening, when arms wrapped around her back and knees, lifting her, waking the monster behind her eyes.
A small whimper slipped from her lips. Then the chest below her cheek vibrated as quiet words were spoken.
“I’m sorry, honey. You’ll be in bed in a second.”
She let his warm, familiar voice soothe her.
His strong heartbeat pounded against her ear, but surprisingly, it didn’t add to the agony. No. It snaked its way into her chest, almost becoming a part of her.
Her back hit the soft mattress gently. She whimpered again, but this time it wasn’t from pain. It was loss. Loss of his heart beating against her cheek. His strong arms, like bands of steel, holding her close.
Hands were at her waist, carefully peeling off her jeans. Then her socks. A blanket covered her, seconds before something was at her lips.
“Open for me, honey.”
Her lips separated. At this moment, she would do anything the man asked. He was her thin connection to reality. To safety.
A pill touched her tongue, then a straw. She swallowed before closing her lips again.
When a hand touched her head, she sighed. It was so nice to have him here. But it was also scary. So scary. Because she knew that his presence could break down some of the hard casing around her heart, and she would begin to trust him again.
“God, I love you.”
A small frown touched her brows. Had she dreamed those words, or had Blake actually spoken them?
Something else touched her forehead. Something light but warm. A kiss. Then it was gone.
A second later, he was leaving. She didn’t hear his silent footsteps, but she felt the loss of his presence.
“Blake…” The single word had her head splintering. Still, she forced more words out. “Stay with me.”
A whispered plea from her heart. For a second, she wondered if he’d heard. Wondered if those last three words had even left her lips.
There was no response. No noise at all. Maybe he’d already left the room.
Just as she was about to drift off, rustling noises sounded, then the bed dipped behind her. Heat pressed against her back. Heat and hard, rigid muscles. And the soothing heartbeat returned.
Blake’s arms tightened around Willow’s waist. It was early morning, and he’d held her all night. She’d woken twice, sick both times.
He knew she’d sleep for a while longer. Migraines always wiped her out for a long time.
God, he hated them.
A short moan escaped her lips, and his muscles tensed. Seeing her in pain was worse than experiencing his own. If he could take it away and put it upon himself, he would. Every day of the week.
When Mila had called last night, her small, worried voice had almost caused his lungs to seize. Wasn’t this the nightmare that had plagued his mind while he’d been away from them?
He was here now, though. With his family.
The only good thing about this moment was holding her. When she’d asked him to stay, it was like she’d given him permission to breathe.
He pressed a soft kiss to her neck as he untangled his arms and rose from the bed. The sun was just poking through the curtains, which meant Mila would be up soon.
Like his thoughts had conjured her, soft, muffled movement sounded from down the hall. Smiling to himself, Blake threw on his jeans and a shirt before heading out of the room. He was just pulling the bedroom door closed when Mila stepped out of her own room.
She walked up to him, her little feet moving slowly as she tried to be quiet. When she reached him, he crouched down to his haunches.
“Sleep okay, baby?”
She gave a small nod, worried eyes darting to the closed door. “Is Mama okay?”
His heart clenched. Lifting a hand, he smoothed some of her hair from her face behind her ear. Her hair had always reminded him of Willow’s in the morning. Long, untamed locks of brown waves.
“She’s going to be okay. She just needs some rest.” He was still kicking himself for not seeing the signs yesterday. For not forcing her to stop. To take a break and rest. “I’ve asked Courtney and Jason to take you to the park today, but before that, should we make some pancakes for breakfast?”
Her brown eyes lightened. “With chocolate chips and sprinkles?”
He chuckled. Rising, he took her hand. “Is there any other way to eat pancakes? Mama does keep chocolate chips and sprinkles, doesn’t she?”
“Yep. She tries to hide them, but I know where they are.”
Of course she did.
The second they entered the kitchen, Mila released his hand and ran over to grab a step stool before placing it in front of a cabinet. Then, reaching behind a stack of containers, she grabbed two smaller ones, holding chocolate chips and sprinkles.
Oh jeez. He needed to be careful around this little detective.
Shaking his head, he opened the fridge door. “You grab the rest of the dry ingredients, I’ll get the wet.”
The two of them made pancakes a lot. It had become somewhat of a tradition, and they’d developed a good system. And if it wasn’t pancakes, it was waffles.
They were just combining the wet and dry ingredients when Blake frowned, realizing Mila was very quiet. Which was definitely not the usual. Not for this kid.
“It only happened two times when you were gone.”
Blake looked up, brows tugging together at Mila’s words.
“Migraines.”
The news sent a dagger to his chest. “Tell me about them, baby.”
She stirred the mixture. “Both times she told me to run next door to Sandra. Sandra looked after me while Mama rested. They were friends and she looked after me sometimes.”
He gave a small nod, wanting her to think he was okay when he really wasn’t. He should have been there. He should have been the one taking care of his daughter. Making sure Willow was okay.
He swallowed the anger, forcing it down until another time. He met his daughter’s gaze, both of them already having paused in what they were doing. “You did a good job calling me last night. Just like we practiced. And I promise you, I’ll try to be here next time. And if I can’t because I’m away for work, one of the guys will.”
Mila nibbled her bottom lip. “So you won’t disappear again?”
His heart fucking tore in two at hearing those words. They’d told her he’d been away fighting the bad guys. That he hadn’t had a choice in the matter. Both of which were true.
He stepped closer, taking her little face in his hands. “No. I’m never disappearing on you or your mom again.”
He would destroy anyone who threatened that promise. Tear down any wall that tried to separate him and his family. Without thought. Without hesitation.
He tugged her into his arms, holding her close.
“I know I told you already, but I missed you,” she said quietly.
Another tear at his heart. His arms tightened. “I missed you too, baby.”
So fucking much it still hurt.
