Neither did she.
After what had to have been like twenty minutes of silence and awkward fidgeting in the corner on her part, she walked over to him. By now, the meds should have hit. “Is there anything else I can do? Would you like a cold compress?”
His hand balled into a fist. After a few moments, he said, “Unless you can make the last fifteen minutes go away…no. There’s nothing else.”
Okay, then. The meds had definitely kicked in. Before they had, he’d been unable to form a whole word, let alone an entire sentence. And when he’d come, he’d blurted out a bunch of words in the wrong order. She hadn’t thought anything of it, but now…
What exactly had happened to him overseas?
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Holt.” Sitting down on the side of the bed, she brushed his hair off of his forehead. He flinched, but otherwise didn’t react to her touch. “Lots of people get migraines.”
“You can go home now.” He still didn’t move. “I’ll pay for your cab. If you could reach in my coat pocket and get my wallet out, there should be cash.”
Her heart twisted. “Holt…”
“Lydia.”
Reaching out, she squeezed his hand. “Look at me.”
He finally opened his eyes. The blue was cold and hard. He wanted her to leave, and she would. But he had to know that she didn’t care that he got headaches, or couldn’t form his words perfectly one hundred percent of the time. None of that mattered to her.
All that she cared about was him, and if he was okay.
“I know right now, you don’t like me very much. I know you wanted to suffer alone, where no one could see you. I get it. And I know you want me to leave, so I will, even though I’d rather stay with you, in case you need anything else tonight. But nothing that happened here tonight has changed a thing.” She squeezed his hand. “Nothing.”
He rolled his wrist and flipped his hand palm up, closing his fingers around hers. “I’m…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been mean. It was…” He paused and licked his lips. “Uncalled for.”
She smiled. “It’s okay. I’m a bitch when I get PMS, so I’ll make it up to you in a week or two.”
A little laugh escaped him, but he cut it off quickly. “Ow.”
“Sorry.” She rested a hand on his cheek. “I’ll go now.”
When he didn’t say anything else, she walked for the door. She was halfway through it when he said, “Lydia?”
She froze, a hand on the doorjamb. “Yeah?”
“No one else knows I get these. No one…” He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
Blinking back tears, she didn’t face him. “You’re welcome. And don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”
She walked out of the room, down the stairs, and into the night. She didn’t take money from him, because she didn’t need to. Her brother lived two streets over, so she’d just walk there. Truth was, she kind of needed the time alone to clear her head. Holt obviously had a heck of a lot going on, and no one else knew about it.
Where was his support person? His parents? Siblings? Anyone?
Even more importantly, where the hell was Steven, his best bud?
By the time she made it to his door, she was furious. She marched up the stone walkway, lifted her fist, and pounded on the door. When he didn’t answer, she did it again. A few minutes later, she heard a scuffling sound, and then a muffled curse.
The door swung open, and Steven stood there wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, his ink, and a scowl. He had a Glock in his hand, and his hair stuck up in different places. Once he saw who stood there, he dropped his hand to his side and closed the door enough that he could step behind it. “Jesus, Lyd. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. But you know what? You’re a—” She broke off, realizing at the last second that she couldn’t yell at him. She’d promised not to tell anyone about Holt’s pain, and she wouldn’t. “I mean, I was at a friend’s house, and I had to leave. Can I sleep here?”
He nodded. “Yes, of course. But are you okay?”
“Y-Yeah.”
“Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”
She shook her head and slipped her coat off. She’d never even taken it off at Holt’s. Everything had happened so fast. “No, I’m fine. I just need to sleep.”
“Okay…” He set the gun down and wrapped her in his arms. “Lyd, are you sure you’re okay? Where were you?”
“At a friend’s house,” she said, resting her cheek on his chest. “But don’t ask who. It doesn’t matter.”