Chapter 19- What the hell was wrong with me?

Knox's POV

The drive to Leah’s apartment was painfully quiet.

Paige had stopped arguing somewhere between the parking lot and the first traffic light. She sat curled against the passenger door, one arm wrapped tightly around her stomach.

I gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.

Five minutes later, I pulled into the apartment complex.

“I’ll get the door,” I said, cutting the engine.

She gave a weak nod.

I came around to her side and helped her out of the SUV, keeping an arm around her waist as we made our way to the apartment.

“Keys,” I said, holding out my hand.

She stiffened 

“…Paige?”

“I…” She let out a pained breath. “I locked them inside.”

I blinked. “You what?”

“I forgot them this morning.”

I waited another beat before I pulled out my phone to call Leah. 

Straight to voicemail. I tried again. Voicemail. 

“Damn it.”

“She’s in practicals,” she groaned. “She won’t have her phone.”

“Come on.”

She peered up at me with a scrunched brow. “…Where?”

“My place.” 

Her eyes widened. “I’m not going to your house.”

“You don’t have much of a choice, midget.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but before another word could leave her lips, her knees buckled.

Before she could protest again, I scooped her into my arms.

“Knox!”

“You can yell at me later.”

………

It was my first time seeing Paige so unguarded. It was unnerving.

She’d stopped fighting me the second I picked her up.

No sharp comeback.

No eye roll.

Just a face twisted with pain, her brows drawn tightly together as she buried her face against my chest.

I nudged my front door shut with my foot and carried her upstairs, laying her carefully on my bed.

She curled into a fetal position on her side, hugging a pillow tightly against her stomach.

I stood there for a second, completely out of my depth.

“What do you need?” I asked.

She cracked one eye open. “…Nothing.” Letting out a shaky breath. “… It's just a bad stomach ache.”

I didn’t believe that for a second.

I pulled my phone out and called Leah again. Voicemail. Tried again, on the third ring, she picked up.

“Knox? Why are you calling from Paige’s—”

“She’s in a lot of pain. She won’t tell me anything.”

There was a pause on the line, and then Leah’s voice sharpened into something urgent. 

“Oh my god. Okay. Paige has really… painful periods beyond regular cramps. It’s endometriosis. So Knox, listen to me carefully—”

She rattled off instructions fast, barely stopping for breath. Heating pad, if I could find one. Warm water. Something for the pain, if Paige would take it, which she probably wouldn’t because she was stubborn like that. Pressure on her lower stomach, gentle circles, it actually helped.

“Please,” Leah said, voice cracking slightly, I could hear how much they cared about each other. “Take care of her. I can’t leave practicals right now, I’ll get there as soon as I can,—please.”

“I’ve got her,” I said.

I had no idea what I was doing. I’d never done this for anyone. But I found a heating pad in a hallway closet, dug a mini first-aid kit out of my bag — bandages, painkillers, the usual sports hazard essentials — and filled a glass of water before sitting beside her on the bed.

“Here.” I shook two ibuprofen into my palm and held them out. “Take these.”

She cracked one eye open. “What are you doing?”

“Following orders. Leah’s, not mine.”

She hesitated, then took the pills, swallowing them down with a grimace before sinking back against the pillow.

“Leah told you, didn't she” 

“Yeah” There was no point in lying.

I set the glass on the nightstand and eased her sweater up just enough to press my palm flat against her stomach, the way Leah had described.

“What are you doing now?” Her voice came out weaker this time.

“Helping. Also Leah’s orders.”

She didn’t argue. That told me more than anything how much pain she was actually in.

I lifted the hem of her shirt just enough to expose her stomach before warming a few drops of oil between my palms. It was meant for baths, but it’d do.

I rubbed slow circles over her abdomen. I wasn’t a massage therapist, but years of hockey had taught me a thing or two about sore muscles.

Paige tensed beneath my touch, then gradually relaxed.

“That’s it,” I murmured. “Deep breaths. Better?”

“Better.” Her eyes drifted shut. “You’re… good at this.”

“I’m good at everything.”

She scoffed softly.

The room fell quiet. Her breathing steadied beneath my hands, and I found myself studying her.

I’d known Paige for years, yet I knew so little about her.

She was still in contact with her mom. She had Endometriosis. What else didn't I know?

My gaze drifted upward again, and heat curled low in my stomach when I saw her staring at me with a lazy, slumberous expression. She licked her lips, and God himself wouldn’t have been able to stop the X-rated images flooding my brain. Those full, pouty lips wrapped around the head of my cock, that delicate pink tongue licking up and down my length while she stared up at me with her big brown eyes…

What the hell is happening to me?

“You should be good for now.” I cleared my throat of its rasp before speaking again. 

I stood and walked into the bathroom before she could respond, angling my body so she couldn’t see the severely ill-timed tent in my pants.

Instead of giving in to the urge to take care of my situation downstairs, I finished my shower and changed into sweatpants.

By the time I came back, Paige was already fast asleep. I climbed into bed, making sure to stay as far away from her as I could, and tried to fall asleep, but my damn brain wouldn’t shut off.

This was going to be a long night.