Page 121 of Well That Happened

I straighten. “Wait. You’re… rewatchingGame of Thrones?”

“There’s been a bloodbath in the war zone,” she says, face in her blanket.

Grayson frowns. “I’m sorry, are we talking politics now?”

Rilee groans. “Aunt Flo’s in town.”

Grayson and I both stare hard at each other. Did she hit her head? None of this is making any sense.

“I’m on my period,” she finally snaps. “God.”

Oh.

Ohhhh.

“Why didn’t you just say that?” I ask, mildly scandalized by how many metaphors we had to wade through.

“Because every time I mention it, someone makes it weird.”

“I didn’t make it weird. I thought you were dying,” I say.

Grayson nods solemnly. “I was half a second away from checking her search history for WebMD articles.”

“Well, I’m not dying,” she mutters. “Unless you count my uterus trying to self-destruct.”

“Wait.” I blink. “Does this mean no sex?”

Rilee glares.

“Not that it’s theonlything I value about you,” I backpedal. “Just—you know. Clarifying the medical parameters.”

“No sex,” she says firmly.

“…Including anal?” I ask.

Grayson slaps me upside the head.

“Ow.”

Rilee just groans and rolls onto her side, curling tighter into herself.

Grayson’s up in a flash, crossing to her side. “Wait. You’re in pain?”

She shrugs, like she doesn’t want to admit it. Which means she definitely is.

“I got it,” I say, already halfway to the kitchen. “Heating pad, Midol, chocolate. What else? Do we have a uterus-friendly blanket? Is that a thing? Like a weighted blanket…but for your uterus.”

“I’ll get her socks,” Grayson says, already disappearing down the hall like he’s storming a beach in Normandy.

In the next ten minutes, we execute what can only be described as a coordinated relief mission.

I bring the heating pad and plug it in beside her, looping it gently across her stomach while she mumbles something about “this is so unnecessary” and tries to bat me away with a limp wrist. Grayson returns with socks that he proceeds towarm in his handsbefore putting them on her feet like she’s some kind of fragile Victorian lady. It’s actually pretty great.

I bring a brownie from the stash we keep for emergencies. This qualifies.

Grayson adjusts her pillow.

I adjust her blanket.

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