Page 6 of Artfully Wild
“You’re meddling an awful lot for someone who won’t take her own advice.”
She gasps, holding her hand over her heart, fanning herself dramatically with the other. “I’d never,” she says in a breathy voice and the worst fake Southern accent I’ve ever heard.
“This sounds an awful lot like meddling.”
“I happenedto come up with a genius idea that just happensto include a gorgeous woman you’d have to spend more time with than you already do. I don’t think that’s meddling. I think that’s matchmaking.”
I scoff. “Leave that to the experts.”
“Fran and Cordie have already approved of the idea and saidthey’d each buy a painting to display in their prospective businesses.”
Leave it to this damn town to push me and Sky together even when we’ve told them for years we are nothing more than friends, even though I’ve wanted slightly more than that for a while. Maybe a bit more than slightly.
“Fine, fine,” I say, palming my forehead. “I’ll ask her the next time I see her, which will probably be tomorrow, considering I’m about to be out of commission for the rest of the day.”
Sophie gives me a sympathetic smile and offers a comforting squeeze on my shoulder. “Go get some rest. You don’t have any other appointments today and if someone else comes in, I can manage.”
“Are you sure?” I hate depending on other people to pick up my slack, but I know when a migraine is going to kick my ass and this one is definitely going to.
“Yes, J. Go home and sleep. Drink some electrolytes before you lay down and try to rest.”
Throwing on my jacket, I mumble a quick thanks and start toward the back door, grabbing a Body Armor drink from the fridge on the way. My house is only a half-mile from the clinic, so I usually walk, but I am regretting that decision today as I squint against the mid-afternoon sun.
A buzzing comes from my pocket and I manage to pull it out and read the caller ID. I press the end call button and open up our texts.
Migraine.
It’s all I can manage and Sky will understand exactly what I mean. She’s witnessed how debilitating my migraines can be and has pushed me to go see a doctor about them for years. I haven’t listened, because I am afraid a doctor wouldn’t listen either. Theynever did when I was a kid and suffered from them. None of them ever believed me even when my mom explained my symptoms to them, they ignored her and told her to give me medication and let me rest until they subsided. But sometimes, they wouldn’t subside for days and it was excruciating. For her and for me.
I feel my phone buzz again as I reach my driveway.
Little Sparrow
On my way. Don’t go inside.
She’s a saint.
CHAPTER FOUR
SKYLAR
It doesn’t take a lot for me to drop everything to help my best friend, but a guaranteed way to make sure I do is to mention the word migraine. I’ve watched Jacob suffer from them for years and each time it never gets any easier. I feel helpless, but I know that’s only a fraction of what Jacob feels. He hates depending on other people to do things he can normally do, but most of the time when migraines decide to make their ugly appearance, he really doesn’t have a choice. He’s forced to step back and let the people who care about him help. I know he isn’t fully able to take care of himself or the animals in his house when he’s down, so when his house started to fill with more animals, he slowly lost the space he needed to recover.
The first time it happened and he realized he couldn’t rest there peacefully, I made sure to tell—a more accurate word would be force—him to text me whenever he could feel a bad one coming on so I could bring him to the loft and he could get the rest he needs.
I don’t waste any time locking up the store two hours early to drive to his house before he goes inside. We both know as soon as he reaches his porch, the dogs and every other animalhe has inside are going to go absolutely bonkers and only make his migraine worse. I can’t imagine the pitch of the new puppies barking would exactly be healing for him.
I jump in my truck, trying not to think of Max’s desperate attempt to get me to stay. He has this intuition when he knows my attention is about to go somewhere other than him.
Jacob’s house is only a block or so from the store, so less than a few minutes later, I am pulling into his gravel driveway to find him sitting on the bottom step of his porch, his forehead leaning against the railing of the stairs, his glasses slightly askew. The sight would be adorable if he wasn’t in unbearable pain.
His eyes are closed and I’m afraid he fell asleep until he raises his head and squints in my direction. After I close the door behind me, I see his body visibly relax. I give a small smile and walk toward him as he stands and grimaces against what I assume is an onslaught of painful jabs inside his skull.
“C’mon,” I say, reaching an arm around his narrow waist, trying to focus on getting him to the car and not the ease of which he wraps his arm around my shoulders, hugging me to his chest.
“My savior,” he says, burying his face into my hair and nuzzling against me.
That’s another thing about us. We aren’t afraid of friendly affection, but when he has a migraine, he gets a little bit braver. Like he doesn’t care what he does, as long as it helps the pain in his head. And for whatever reason, cuddling into me one way or another helps him.
