Page 48 of Gorgeous

“Cade,” I whisper in the dark. Why am I in the damn dark? I pull out my phone, pressing the icon for the built-in flashlight. The only thing awry in his pristine room is his bed. It’s not made like he usually keeps it. The sheets are in knots and hanging off the bed, pooling onto the floor.

A groan pulls me from my inspection of his bed. “Cade,” I rush out, opening the bathroom door without knocking.

What I find will forever haunt me.

Cade is curled up on the tiled floor, his arms wrapped around his head as if he’s trying to crush it between his hands.

“Cade.” I approach him slowly since I’m not sure what’s going on. Is he sick? Is he having an episode? I don’t know. I feel out of my element here. Maybe I should call Hayes or better yet, Anniston.

“Go away,” he groans, his face twisted in obvious pain.

My chest feels heavy as I ignore his rude-ass response and inch closer. “I can’t do that.”

His body spasms and he lunges for the toilet, dry heaving. In between bouts of nausea he growls at me to leave again. I act like I don’t hear him and turn on the faucet, grabbing a rag from the cabinet and running it under the cool water. When he crumples to the floor in a ball of pain, I make my move and press the rag against his neck.

“Please go away, B,” he whines, but I barely register it. All that is going through my head is that he’s not dead. He didn’t want to die. I feel like I lost twenty pounds of worry as I watch him writhe on the floor.

“What’s going on?” I ask him, already assessing as much of him as I can see. “Do you have the flu?”

He groans but manages to get out, “My. Head. Hurts. So. Bad.”

His head?

He moans, curling in on himself again. It’s a pitiful sight that makes me want to put my arms around him and take away every bit of pain he’s feeling, but I know he wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. Cade is not a man that wants to appear weak. Sometimes though, even heroes need saving.

“I’ll call Anniston,” I tell him quietly, already dialing her number.

“No,” he grits out after another wave of pain takes him. I ignore him and step out of the bathroom.

“Breck? Everything okay?” Like Hayes, Anniston spares me no pleasantries, so I do her the same.

“Something is wrong with Cade,” I blurt out.

In hindsight, that was probably the wrong way to start the conversation because she damn near shouts at me to explain, and I quote, “Very fucking quickly.”

“I mean, I think he’s sick.”

That settles her down a little and I continue to tell her about his condition.

“Check and see if he has a fever,” she instructs me. I enter the bathroom and Cade is where I left him, on the floor, a beautiful, broken mess.

“Cade.” Why am I acting like I’m approaching a wild animal? “Anniston wants me to check for a fever.” If I wasn’t watching for a reaction, I would have missed the slight shake of his head. Too bad.

“Put me on speaker,” Anniston demands.

I do, and Cade clutches his ears. “Turn it down,” he begs me.

I do, and Anniston speaks quieter and less aggressive than she did with me. “Cade, let B check if you have a fever.”

He grunts out a “No” like the stubborn ass he is.

Anniston sighs, obviously wishing she was here to handle the situation herself. “Tell me what’s going on, Gorgeous, and then B and I will leave you alone.”

We will?

Cade mutters that he’s nauseous and his vision keeps getting blurry, and paired with the headache from hell, he’s not in the mood to argue with us. Even sick, he’s keeping his asshole attitude intact.

“B, take me off speaker.”

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