Page 91 of Chasing You

MARINA

PRESENT

I grumbleas I slide from the couch onto my hardwood floors, curling into a ball on the floor.

I woke up with a migraine this morning and immediately knew I had gotten my period overnight. I had cramps all day yesterday so I could tell it was coming, meaning I was prepared, but this morning my cramps are absolutely killing me. It hasn’t even been four weeks yet.

I still haven’t decided what action to take regarding my endometriosis. Sofia has called me multiple times wondering what decision I’ve made, but I haven’t made one.

I hate the idea of putting anything in my body that’s not supposed to be there. I’ve lived with this forever, but it’s been a kind of torture; something needs to change. And right now, while I’m curled up on the floor, the idea of going on something to help is becoming more and more appealing.

A knock sounds against my door. “Who is it?” I croak out from my spot on the floor.

“It’s me, princess.” Relief crashes into me like a tidal wave.

“Come in.”

The door opens slightly before Miles’s eyes widen as he takes me in, dropping whatever he was holding on the floor and taking two rushed steps before he reaches me.

“What’s wrong? Do I need to take you to the hospital?” His hand lands on my forehead, checking for a temperature.

It’s sick, but something about his worry makes me feel better instantly. But I’ve never doubted that Miles cares about me. If what he’s told me is right, then in some twisted way, he cared too much about me to break up with me.

I shake my head. “Mm-mm.”

“Marina—”

“Why are you here?” I lift my head to look at him but wince when my head pounds.Ow.

He runs his hand over my hair. My gaze fixates on the fact that he’s not wearing his sling. “Isla told me you weren’t feeling well so I thought I’d bring around supplies, but I didn’t think it was this bad. Let’s get you up on the couch.” His voice is frantic, like he’s panicked.

He slides his arms under me and lifts me into his arms. “Miles, your shoulder!”

“It’s fine,” is all he says. I barely register it when he sits down on the couch because he doesn’t release me from his arms. I stay curled against his warm body as he strokes my hair.

“Tell me how to help you,” he says, his voice more pained now than when he was in the hospital himself.

He leans back, sinking into the couch and pulling me with him. Tears fall from my closed eyes with every stroke of his hand, with every beat of his heart. There’s nothing I could want more in this situation but him.

“This,” I say. “Just this.”

I let myselfbein this moment for a second, let myself feel like this is normal.

I open my eyes and they fall on the basket he dropped on the floor when he walked in. “Did you bring me a wheat bag?”

“Yeah,” he says, not stopping his soothing movements. “Ithought you probably have one already, but I brought one just in case.”

My eyes roam over the rest of the stuff he brought: three bars of chocolate, a blanket, a hot water bottle, a bottle of red wine, and a bag of sour peaches. More tears fall at the fact that he brought all of this here for me, knowing I wasn’t feeling well.

I chuff a small laugh. “Can I have a sour peach?”

“Of course you can.” Miles gently maneuvers me off him, walking over to collect the basket he dropped before putting it on the coffee table. I lie down, resting my head on a pillow as Miles grabs the peaches and sits down cross-legged on the floor in front of me.

I watch as he opens the bag, careful of his arm as the seal breaks, filling the silence between us. “Here,” he says, holding out the bag to me with his good arm.

I grab two, chewing on one while I hold the other. He does the same.

I swallow, sending the sugary treat to my stomach before I let out a big breath. “I have endometriosis.”

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