Love's Game (LarssonSiblingSeries#5)

CHAPTER EIGHT

OLIVE

The room around me is fuzzy as the side of my cheek throbs with pain. I can hear voices speaking in the background, but can't seem to recognise them. A hand settles on the back of my head and I get a smell of something I remember. The metallic taste in my mouth tells me that I'm bleeding there which can only mean one thing. I had a seizure.

Tears automatically spring to my eyes when I open them and see my dads legs under my head as his arms cradle my body to his chest. There's big red stains on his beige trousers from where my mouth is resting and I feel awful. The hand on my head travels down so their fingers run through my hair.

"How can we let her move away?" Dad says.

Mum's voice joins in as she lets out a long sigh, "We can't ban her from living her life, Aiden."

"Yes we damn well can."

"No," she lowers her tone. "We can't."

There's a short silence before he speaks up. "I wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing she could be on her own and something went wrong. Who would help her if she's the only one in the apartment?"

It's a bizarre feeling. Knowing that people are talking about you but your brain refuses to connect to answer them. All I can do is lay here in a daze, trying to get my mind active again.

Mum smiles when I manage to move my eyes over to her. "That's what Sed is for. He knows how to alert attention and there's the emergency button he can press which alerts the doctor."

My mum is protective of me, but my dad is that times one thousand. Ever since being small, he wrapped me in cotton wool. My grandma says it's because he was the first one to witness my seizures, but I think it's because he's a born worrywart.

"I hate this for her," he hisses out.

Ever the cooling influence, my mother kneels beside me next to the sofa and takes my dad's hand that rests on my head. "Everything will be okay. Don't let your worry ruin this for her. It's scary enough that she's doing it on her own and she needs the reassurance from us to let her know it's the right thing to do."

"She's my baby," he whispers.

"Mine too, but eventually we need to let them go."

"She's nineteen-years-old - still a child," he responds, trying to get his point across.

Mum giggles, "We were nineteen when we had her. She's more mature than you're giving her credit for."

They were childhood sweethearts through and through. Dating since the beginning of secondary school they lasted all the way through to college where mum fell pregnant with me in her first year of University. Dad worked as an apprentice brick layer, working all the way up to my birth before becoming a stay at home Dad so Mum could carry on her degree.

It's then I choose to speak. "My mouth," I groan, the words sounding muddled up. "it hurts so bad."

Shutting up, they turn all of their attention on me.

"It's okay, baby, you've bitten your mouth," Mum says, stroking my cheeks.

The sad thing is, I know the pain is going to triple the moment I'm fully conscious and not in dreamland. That's the bit I hate the most. Especially the next day when my mouth and tongue are red raw from my teeth biting down on them and my limbs feel like led from the thrashing and spasms.

I try to sit up. "Ow," tiny bits of red dribble stain my white tee as I attempt to connect my limbs to my brain.

Dad helps me by lifting me so I'm sitting against the many cushions that decorate the back of our sofa. "Do you need any water?"

I shake my head no.

It'll be like liquid fire in my mouth.

A tissue appears near my nose, wiping at the moisture around that area. It's not glamorous being an epileptic. Not one bit. I remember a seizure catching me off guard at my secondary school prom and totally ruining my baby pink dress and my reputation.

Everyone kept their distance then.

And, I mean everyone.

I notice that Mum seems to be speaking to someone when she comes back into the room. I assume it's one of the twins until Dexter appears, ducking so the top of the doorframe doesn't smack him on the head.

Not looking my best, I can't even fathom the strength to wipe away the stains around my mouth.

Dexter's thick eyebrows knit together when he takes in my position on the sofa, arms folding over his chest. "Olive, you all right, babe?"

I nod, eyes drooping closed.

Dad speaks up. "She won't be travelling up with you lot tonight. We'll bring her up in a few days."

In my heart, I know that Dexter would never get rid of me for my illness, but my head is saying that I need to step up because he'll find somebody with a functioning brain to do my job without the baggage.

"No sweat. Even if she comes on Sunday, it's not a problem," that would be five days away.

"No," I say, instantly regretting it when the taste of metallic blood on my tongue makes me gag. "I need to be there."

"You're in no fit state," Dexter replies, giving me a kind smile.

I try to sit up but end up flopping back down to the cushions. "I'm not letting you down. I'm good to go."

"You're as white as a ghost and your bottom lip is already bruising with what looks like a blood wheel. I don't believe that you want to be cramped in a car for two and a bit hours feeling like crap," Dexter replies.

The blonde sportsman has a point. I feel marginally better than two minutes earlier, but I also know that I'm not out of the danger zone. It isn't uncommon for me to seize twice in one episode and that can happen within minutes or hours of each other. It'd be ruthless of me to travel down today, knowing that I could cause an accident should it happen in a moving car.

I feel my eyes get heavy but fight against it. "Don't you dare take the best bedroom."

Dexter's face creases into the most wonderful grin. "I wouldn't dare. Aaron isn't coming for a couple of days so we get first dibs."

My mind is too frazzled to understand quite what he means. I need rest and a ibuprofen for my banging headache. Knowing how I come down for a seizure, Mum is at the ready, already handing out a tablet and some water.

It's agony to swallow the tablet with my sore mouth, the water spilling past my lips when I struggle to get it down my throat. Two attempts later the medicine is gone and I'm getting cosy on the sofa.

Dexter is telling my mum to get me to call him when I feel better in the background, reassuring her that he will be the one to look after me in Manchester. It means a lot, but he's also going to have a crazy busy schedule and I can't expect for him to watch over me twenty-four-seven.

I keep telling myself that it will get better, that these seizures will go in time. But, my gut tells me that this is only the beginning.

...

It's a short one today, but it's only bringing Dex and Olive closer 😉❤️