Page 41 of Beastly Mr. Buchanan
Karey whimpers and tightens her hold on me when I try to lift my hand.Matthew chuckles and slips the cloth-covered pad under my arm at her side before gently wiggling it between my hand and her stomach.
“Is that the highest setting?Will she be okay with it this hot?”I ask in a low, quiet voice.
With an amused chuckle, he nods.
“It hasn’t even had time to warm up.The hotter the better, at least when she’s feeling this bad.No more than twenty minutes at a time, though,” he instructs.
I hate how helpless and ignorant I feel in this moment and vow to do whatever it takes to never be so ill prepared again.
I’ll use my best resources—Matthew and Fabio—for now but will also conduct my own research once we get Karey through this cycle.This can’t be normal no matter how much they all act like it is.Whatever she needs, I’ll provide it.
Guilt seeps in through my determination.I never want to find her curled up on the floor again.
I’ll never forgive myself if she’s like this because I changed her medication, and the only way to know if I caused it is to tell her the truth.She may never trust me again, but I meant it when I swore I’d never leave her again.
She’s mine in sickness and in health.
I need to marry her.Now.
Chapter 15
Karey Justice
Declan Buchanan hasn’t left my sidefor longer than five minutes the last four days.We haven’t spoken, but I can sense his growing impatience.
But he didn’t leave.He didn’t complain when I bled all over the bed.Didn’t pull a disgusted face when I turned the bath water an ugly color.Didn’t hesitate to massage my belly or fetch me drinks.Didn’t argue when I refused to sleep unless he curled his massive body around mine.
He stayed.
Maybe—just maybe—he’ll stay when I tell him the truth.I shouldn’t hope for so much when he could so easily destroy me, but I can’t stop my foolish heart.
“We need to talk,” he says.
My heart sinks into my toes.I nod and scoot to the edge of the bed.We should have this discussion at a more neutral location, but before I can stand, he walks around the bed and drops to his knees in front of me.I stare in absolute shock as he sits back on his heels, places his hands on his thighs, and pierces my heart with apologetic eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
I can’t breathe.Is he saying goodbye?
“It’s my fault,” he continues.
His fault?As in the lame break up excuse of ‘it’s not you, it’s me?’Bile rises in my throat.
“I was an idiot for not thinking of all the potential outcomes and putting your health at risk,” he says.
I pause.His words don’t match my mental spiral.
“What are you talking about?”I ask.
“I swapped your birth control pills for placebos.”
I blink in confusion and parrot him back to try and make sense of his words.
“You swapped my birth control pills?”
“Yes, I did,” he confirms.
I still don’t understand.
