Page 113 of Unspoken Hearts
“Reid. He has a migraine.”
Knowing exactly what that means, she comes with me into the kitchen where Reid is leaning over the bench, his head hanging between his shoulders. His breathing is deeper and rougher. Adrenaline floods my veins as I grab a hold of him again.
“Reid, let’s go upstairs,” Hazel says in her calmest voice.
“Thanks,” he grounds out.
Taking one arm, his mum takes the other, and we help him upstairs, his eyes barely open. Walking him to his room, I don’t flick the light on, knowing it’ll make this worse. Reid lies down on his bed. I move his legs to get him under the covers, and when I look back at Hazel watching us from the doorway. I can tell by the look in her eye and the pinch in her lips that she knows already.
Why else would I be so worried about him?
“I’ll finish the drinks. They’ll be ready in five minutes if you could help me then, Macie.”
Understanding the double meaning, I nod and mouth a thank you as she disappears downstairs.
Reid’s eyes are pinched shut, and I tuck him in before kissing his forehead gently. “You’ll be okay,” I tell him, but more becauseI’m hoping I’m right and that he will be okay. I’ve never known anyone to have migraines, especially not chronic, debilitating ones.
“Please stay,” he murmurs, his fingers curling into the fabric of my top.
I sit down on the bed, a small squeak sounding as I curl up beside him, making sure not to aggravate his head more. “I’ll be here.”
Holding his hand on his stomach, I listen to his breathing slow and the puffs from his nose deepening as he manages to fall asleep quietly.
Must be the tablets, or maybe he sleeps better beside me like I do?
Slowly crawling away, I shut his door as silently as I can and go downstairs to find Hazel with all the mugs filled. Looking at me, she sighs, and honestly, it doesn’t sound pleased.
“Does Grayson know?” My throat works as she looks at me like the concerned mother she is. I shake my head, and her lips tighten. “He needs to know. He’s your friend.”
“I’ll tell him,” I say honestly, I can’t speak for Reid, but the guilt is starting to eat me alive. I don’t want to have to choose, but I also don’t want to be between them anymore.
“When?” Hazel questions calmly.
“I-I don’t know yet.”
Her hands come to hold mine, and I stare into her grey eyes framed in black liner. She smiles thoughtfully. “Macie, you’re like my daughter. I want nothing more than for you to be happy, and you and Reid would be perfect together, but Grayson deserves to know.”
“I know,” I let out softly. “I don’t want to hurt him, though.”
“Honey, I think not telling him will hurt him more.”
Nodding, she lets go. I sniff, wiping my nose before plastering on my fake smile. “I’ll tell him this weekend. After the festival.”
“Good. And I’ll be here if you need me.”
I nod again and take one of the trays, carrying them outside. All I can think about is Reid and Grayson, and I feel around Reid, but that Grayson was my first friend here, and I’m terrified of stabbing him in the back.
Letting out a shaky breath, I decide that I’m going to have to do it after the festival like I told Hazel, and just pray that Grayson understands.
Chapter thirty-two
Macie
It’stooearlytobe out here this morning. The air is cold and thick with overnight dew. Pulling on a coat that’s two sizes too big and my worn brown boots, I head out to the chicken pen. At least the faster I get this done, the sooner I can be inside and defrosting under a hot shower.
I smile when I glance over at Reid and Grayson talking near the paddock. Neither of them glance my way as they discuss something serious. My gaze studies Reid as he casually leans against the fence post, thick flannel jacket on and his trusted hat. I’m glad he woke up like himself this morning, maybe a little drowsier than normal, but it still managed to make my heart skip when I laid eyes on him coming down the stairs.
I hadn’t realised I’d stopped walking when I feel someone wrap their arm around my shoulder. I blanch, peering up at Sawyer’s sly face. He never shaves when he’s back home, and it’s starting to show with his five o'clock shadow.
