Page 64 of Unspoken Hearts
Grayson sniffs a laugh as I get out.
The sound of the door makes me wince. I slowly make my way inside the house. Mum, Dad and Aspen sit on the couch watching a kid’s movie, and the noise reverberates through my skull like clashing symbols.
I slip inside, removing my shoes. Mum is beside me. Somehow she can sense when I’m in pain. Must be a motherly super sense or something.
“Reid…”
I groan and half stumble towards the kitchen for my medication. She beats me there, grabbing them out and handing them over before getting me some water. Taking two tablets, I finish off the glass and put it down on the bench, avoiding her eyes.
“I’m going to sleep.”
“Do you need anything?”
I shake my head and wince again. “Just please don’t be loud,” I murmur, gripping onto the banister of the stairs.
Mum follow me and opens my bedroom door. I collapse onto my bed, instantly feeling drowsier.
“Do you want to change?”
“No,” I grumble, wanting nothing more than to be alone.
“All right.” I hear her grab the spare blanket from my wardrobe and throwing it over me. “Sleep well.”
I feel her kiss my forehead, like I’m a child again, but honestly, I don’t hate it. A part of me pictures Macie kissing me, sitting beside me as I close my eyes. I’d want nothing more than to have her with me right now, hugging her until I fall asleep. The sensation of touchingher and smelling her perfume settles my resonating pulse, and I feel the disappointment in my chest, knowing that she’s not beside me.
I’ve never told her about my migraines, and I’m not sure Grayson has either.
Is she worried right now?
Is Grayson telling her?
The last thing I picture is her concerned face in the pub, seeing me give in to the incoming pain when I'm pulled under.
Chapter eighteen
Macie
Themilktastesburnt,but I’m not telling Laynie that. She’s in a mood, and it’s one I haven’t seen her in before. It’s almost as if she’s distant and distracted, but I can’t figure out what it could be.
She hasn’t mentioned anything. Maybe she’s thinking about a new dessert again for the store? Sometimes she gets lost in her head trying to figure out the perfect ratio of ingredients.
I continue sipping, ignoring the sourness of the coffee as I sit in the corner of Golden Hour. Writing is one of my escapes from the real world, where I can make the story my own, and know exactly what’s going on. It’s my own novel to write, and this one is hitting home. I can’t wait for it to be done. To be out there for everyone to read, to hopefully give someone else some peace. But right now, the thoughts are crowding my mind as my fingers type eagerly.
Reading helps me escape into a fictitious world, but writing the story myself is the cherry on top.
Polishing off the chapter, a smile gleans my face when a toasted cheese and chicken sandwich is placed down beside me. My stomach twists at the smell of melted cheese. Peering up at my best friend, Laynie gives mea lazy grin, leaning over to check out my work. She’s been wanting to read it for months now. I’m close to the end, but I want it to be complete before anyone else gets their hands on it.
Closing my laptop screen, I ask curiously, “What’s that for?” I nod my head towards the oozing toasty.
Her blonde brow quirks. “I’m guessing you didn’t eat breakfast because you got here the same time I did, at six-thirty, and it’s not even a work day for you. So eat up.” She nudges the plate closer to my hand.
Smirking, I bite into the oily, melted sandwich. Salt, butter, cheddar and meat burst in my mouth, and I let out a soft sigh of contentment. I didn’t realise how hungry I was until now.
“Thank you,” I mumble around my mouthful, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand.
Laynie rolls her eyes at me before walking back towards the front, but I don’t miss the smile on her face.
It’s quiet this morning, and I’m not supposed to work for her on the weekends, giving me time to write, but I always sit here in case Laynie needs a hand. With visitors floating through town, Golden Hour can get swamped sometimes.
