Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
She doesn’t seem quite right, though. I noticed it this morning when we woke up.
Which was again naked and wrapped in each other’s arms.
This was preceded by a night filled with off-the-charts sex that was even better than before.
First, though, we’d had a rather fun, but slightly frustrating evening at The Sneaky Saguaro with Willow and many of my teammates. Fun was a given as we’d won our game. I’d scored a goal and fed an assist to Bishop, who in turn scored. It was frustrating because despite all the frivolity and celebration, I felt out of sorts around Regan. To the outside world, we had to put on a show. That we were just family friends instead of lovers. I lost track of the amount of times I saw her laughing at something someone said, which had then made me want to pull her close and put my arm around her. Made me want to tell everyone, “See this woman right here? She’s mine.” I hadn’t even been able to touch her, and it made me crazy.
This morning, she’d been different from the fun-loving girl of the night before.
Sluggish. Hard to wake up. I thought it might have been too much alcohol, but then I remembered she only had two beers before she switched over to water. After I’d turned the alarm off, I’d given her a little shake. She’d just groaned, rolled over, and tried to pull the covers over her head.
My inclination was to let her sleep, but Willow planned to leave for the airport early, and I’d known Regan would want to say goodbye.
When I finally got her to open her eyes—there was a lot of blinking and dedication to focusing on me—I couldn’t help but notice the bluish tint on the fragile skin below her lashes. She’d looked like she could use about a dozen more hours of sleep.
“I’m going to take Willow to the airport,” I’d told her after deciding she was going to see my sister at the end of the week anyway when Regan traveled to Michigan for our Detroit game. “You stay here and get more sleep.”
But the stubborn thing wouldn’t just roll over and fall back into slumber. She’d grumbled and yawned, moving like she was stuck in molasses, but she managed to roll out of bed. Like a zombie, she’d moved to the bathroom. At one point, I swear she fell back asleep while we’d stood under the hot spray of the shower.
It hadn’t been until we were actually heading out to the car a bit later, me carrying Willow’s duffel, that I looked at Regan and realized… this wasn’t just a late night out.
It had to be her illness.
It’s confirmed as I continue to watch her in the waiting room. She’s flipping through a magazine, but I can tell she’s not reading anything. Her eyes appear glazed and unfocused. When I ask her something, she’s a little slow to respond. I try for funny, but it seems to take forever for her lips to curl into a smile.
“Regan,” I murmur, leaning closer toward her so no one else can listen in. “You okay?”
She slowly raises her head to meet my eyes, smile wan as she admits, “I’m really tired, Dax. It’s just one of those days.”
“Do we need to take you to the doctor?” My internal alarms are starting to chime. I don’t know how seriously I should take her fatigue. It’s a symptom, but I’m not sure about the magnitude.
She shakes her head. “No. It’s not bad. I mean, it might seem bad to you because this isn’t my normal but compared to how it could get before I started on the Salvistas, it’s manageable. It’s just… after we finish here, I’m probably just going to want to go home and sleep if that’s okay with you.”
“Of course it’s okay with me,” I say with an exhale of relief. I reach out and take her hand. “You just have to walk me through these things… teach me the difference between simply being tired and ‘okay, we better get to a hospital right now’.”
She chuckles, her eyes brightening slightly. “Trust me. I don’t play around with this stuff. If I needed to go to the hospital, I’d be out the door and driving myself there.”
“Correction,” I warn sternly. “I’ll be driving you there.”
“I stand corrected,” she replies with an incline of her head. “Unless you’re gone to a game. Then I’m perfectly capable of getting there myself.”
Now… I don’t like to think about her being in a situation like that. Sure, I feel in control now while sitting beside her, promising to take care of her, but what happens when I’m gone?
Fuck… how had Lance handled being so far away from her, knowing she could be fine one moment and in the hospital needing a blood transfusion to save her life the next?