"Bryce?" I called out, letting myself into his back door.

Dawson immediately greeted me, and from the looks of it he hadn't been out yet.

That's not like Bryce at all.

I went ahead and let Dawson out into the backyard before heading to Bryce's room.

He had an ice pack stretched across his forehead.

"Hey baby," I muttered, climbing into bed next to him.

"When'd you get here?" he muttered, groggily.

"Just a minute ago," I said, lifting the ice pack off of his forehead. "What's the matter?"

"I've had this killer headache all night," he groaned.

"What have you taken for it?"

"Nothing."

"Why don't we try something?" I suggested, knowing the answer before he said it.

"No."

I laid the ice pack back down across his forehead. "You should've called me. Has it been this bad all night?"

"Just the past few hours."

Poor baby.

"Want me to make you a warm cup of tea?" I suggested. "I'll look up some alternative ways of getting rid of a headache."

He just groaned in response.

I lightly kissed his cheek before heading out into the kitchen, letting Dawson in on my way.

I tossed Dawson a treat as I set up to make some tea, cradling my phone between my shoulder and my ear.

"Good morning Sophie," Kayla greeted. I could practically hear her smile through the phone.

"Good morning," I said in return.

"And what did my brother do today?"

I couldn't help but laugh, pouring a cup of water into the tea kettle. "The better question would be what hasn't he done?"

"Oh isn't that the truth?" she joked.

"We're going to have to reschedule the tux fitting for the wedding," I informed her, as I set the kettle to boil.

"What? Why?"

"Bryce has been sick the past few days."

"Has anyone told mom?"

"That's part two of why I was calling you," I said, leaning against the opposite counter in Bryce's kitchen. "I was hoping you could?"

She laughed again.

I wasn't close to Bryce's mom. She wasn't around enough for me to know her as well as I knew Kayla.

Kayla had been here through Bryce's twelve-step program, and we'd become really close throughout the entire ordeal.

"I can call my mom," she agreed. "What does Bryce think?"

"I haven't exactly told him."

"That will be a fun conversation."

"I know," I said, with a sigh. "But I'm worried about him."

I pulled out a cup and rinsed it out with the boiling water from the tea kettle. I placed a tea bag inside the cup before adding water.

"I'll call her for you," Kayla repeated. "Just take good care of my baby brother in the meantime."

"I will," I promised.

We said our goodbyes before hanging up, and I let the tea sit for a few minutes, giving Dawson the attention he'd been begging for.

Bryce was usually playing video games at this point in the day, Dawson right by his side.

I removed the tea bag from the cup and added a spoon of honey before bringing it back to Bryce's room.

"Hey bud," Bryce greeted to Dawson, scratching him behind the ears.

"He's dying for attention," I informed Bryce, placing the tea on his nightstand.

"I'll bet," Bryce said, sitting up with a slight groan.

"So I talked to Kayla," I said, as he took a sip of the tea.

"This is good," he complimented. "And what'd she say about the tux fitting?"

"She didn't much care," I said, brushing it off. "She was more worried about you."

"Typical Kayla." He took another sip of his tea.

"I told her to call your mom."

Bryce raised an eyebrow at me, taken by surprise.

"I know you'll probably hate me," I added. "But I'm just worried about you."

He placed his tea back down on his nightstand. "You don't need to call my mom."

"Kayla didn't disagree."

She didn't really give an opinion on the matter, but she didn't disagree either, so it wasn't really a lie.

"My mom is busy," Bryce pointed out. "You don't need to call her back home for every little headache and sniffle that I get."

"Just let her come home and give you a clean bill of health," I said. "Even if it's just to appease me."

He rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh. "You're lucky I love you Ms. Sophie Allen."

I reached over and gave him a light kiss on the lips. "That I am Mr. Bryce Harrison. That I am."

~*~

"You're late," I commented, as Bryce pressed his lips to mine.

"I know," he answered, plopping in the desk next to me.

"Oversleep?" I asked, accepting a McDonald's Sweet Tea from him.

"Yeah," he said, rolling his eyes. "Like that would ever happen."

"How nice of you to grace us with your presence Mr. Harrison," Mrs. Kline called, raising her eyebrows at him.

"My pleasure Mrs. Kline," he answered, with his signature smirk.

"Today we'll be discussing the play Fences."

I pulled out my assignment, placing the answers to the mandatory reading questions on my desk.

Bryce did the same, yawning.

"Are you tired?" I asked. "Did you have another headache last night?"

"Yeah," he admitted, taking a sip of his sweet tea. "It's half the reason I was up all night."

"Pay attention," Mrs. Kline ordered, directed at the two of us. "If you continue to disrupt my class, you will end up in detention."

Bryce leaned back in his chair, placing his focus on her.

I half-listened the rest of the period, glancing at Bryce every few minutes, but he never took his gaze off of the front of the classroom.

"I think you should get your headaches checked out," I said, following Bryce out of the classroom once the bell rang.

He wrapped his hand around mine, kissing my hand. "I already did babe, remember?"

"I know, but that was weeks ago. And it wasn't even a doctor."

"I think my therapist knows more about withdrawal symptoms than you give him credit for," Bryce said, stopping in front of my next class. "My mom even gave me the clean bill of health before she left."

I hated that his mom had left again so quickly.

"Sophie, look at me. I'm fine."

I traced the bags under his eyes. "You're not fine."

He gave me a light kiss. "I'll see you after class?"

I nodded. "But this conversation isn't over."

He rolled his eyes, giving my hand a squeeze before joining up with some baseball jocks across the hallway.

~*~

"Is Bryce coming over for dinner?" my mom asked, her hand hovering over an extra plate for him.

"He had group therapy tonight," I said, sitting down at the table. "So I don't think so."

"How's that going for him?" mom asked.

"He hates it, but he only has four more months before he gets his one year coin. And then he can start going once a month rather than once a week."

"So are these therapy visits court ordered?"

I shook my head.

"What are we talking about?" my dad asked, joining us in the dining room. He kissed the top of my head before taking his seat.

"We were waiting on you," my mom chastised, slapping him with her napkin.

The front door opened, and Bryce came in. "Sorry I'm late."

"It's okay honey," my mom said, standing up. "Take a seat, let me get you a plate."

"She made quesadillas," dad informed Bryce.

"Sounds delicious," Bryce answered, flashing me a smile.

"I'm surprised to see you here," I said, kissing him on the cheek.

"Well I got out a little early, and I figured your mother's cooking was a lot better than Wendy's."

My mom came back in, giving him a plate with a quesadilla on it. "There's more if you're still hungry."

"Thanks Mrs. Allen."

"My pleasure darling."

My dad said a quick prayer, and then he and my mom engaged themselves in a conversation.

"So how was therapy?" I asked, taking a bite of my quesadilla.

"You mean Drug Addicts R Us?" he corrected, with a smirk.

"Bryce!" I chastised.

"What? Let's call it what it is," he defended, with a sarcastic laugh. "It's a bunch of people sitting around, talking about their incredibly intense drug addictions. You know, today there was a mom in there talking about how she tried to sell her kid to get money for cocaine. Her kid!"

"Did you speak today?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, great times."

Bryce hates group therapy, but he goes because I think he worries about himself deep down. He's terrified of relapsing, of becoming addicted to sleeping pills again. He's afraid of the person he was when he was overdosing on them, of the shell of a person he'd become. So he goes to therapy every Tuesday to essentially remind himself of that part of his life, and to move forward.

"I talked to my therapist about the headaches again. He said that we'll keep an eye on them, and if they don't improve in the next couple of weeks, he'll get me in with a good neurologist."

"Thank you."

"So how's baseball going?" dad asked Bryce.

"We're undefeated," he informed my dad, flashing me a smile.

I couldn't help but smile in return.

"I can tell you've been working out."

"He's been working out all of the time," I complained.

"You deserve the starting position," mom said. "You worked so hard this summer."

I finished off my quesadilla as my dad asked Bryce about how the team was looking this season. Bryce assured him that he planned on taking the team to Regionals this year.

"Would you like another?" mom asked Bryce.

I looked at Bryce's plate. He hadn't even finished half of his quesadilla.

"No thank you. It's very good though." He took another bite with a reassuring smile.

Mom began cleaning up the table, and my dad went out to the living room to watch Seinfield.

"You barely ate," I chastised Bryce. "You're not going to be able to keep your weight up if you don't eat."

"Sorry mother."

I gave him a kiss. "Want to watch a movie?"

"I'd love to. Meet you in the theater?"

"Sure."

I went into the theater, choosing The Other Woman for us to watch. Kylie had raved about it after she saw it with Landon in theaters.

"Want some popcorn?" I asked Bryce, as he came into the theater.

"That's okay," he said, sliding into a seat.

I'd never heard Bryce turn down food before.

I joined him on one of the couches, placing my hand across his forehead.

"Would you stop that?" he demanded.

"Stop what?"

"All of this mothering you've been doing lately. I know my body better than you, and I don't need you to check up on me all of the time!"

"I'm just worried about you. You've been having these really bad headaches for two weeks now."

"Trust me Sophie, I know."

"And you already don't get enough sleep as is. I just don't like the thought of these headaches keeping you up half the night."

He put his fingers under my chin, tipping my chin up so I was looking him in the eyes. "They're withdrawal symptoms. It's something I'm going to have to deal with."

"Withdrawal symptoms I could see in the beginning weeks, maybe even months. But you're eight months in Bryce. I don't see it."

He rolled his eyes. "Well you're not a doctor."

"And neither is your therapist!"

"Can we just not do this right now?" Bryce snapped. "If anything you're the one giving me a headache right now."

"I'm just concerned! You're treating these headaches like they're no big deal, but when you get one you can't even function anymore."

"Look, I know my body better than you, and I know what I can handle. So get off my case."

"I feel like we're going around in circles! I'm just asking you to go to a real doctor, get a real diagnosis. I don't think that's too much to ask."

"I've got a lot on my plate right now."

"Oh, you mean baseball? Since when did baseball become more important than your health?"

"Dammit Sophie, I said I was fine! And I'm sick and tired of you breathing down my neck." He stood up and stormed out of the theater.

I watched after him for a few moments, at a loss for words.

I heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and my mom stepped into the theater. "What happened sweetie?" mom asked, a look of concern on her face.

"Why do you ask?"

"We heard all the yelling from downstairs, and I passed Bryce on the staircase and he didn't seem happy."

"We just had a fight is all," I said, stopping the movie we'd never even bothered to watch. "I'm just going to go up to bed."

"Lacy! Sophie!" dad called, his voice filled with urgency.

I hurried out to the living room, where dad was kneeling down next to Bryce, talking to him.

"What's wrong?" mom asked.

"Nothing," Bryce muttered.

"He just blacked out," dad said.

"I'm fine," Bryce said, going to stand up.

Mom and dad both rushed to stop him.

"You're not fine," mom insisted. "Stay here for a few moments, let me get you some water."

Dad followed her out.

Bryce placed his elbows on his thighs, letting out a sigh as he massaged his temples. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

"You're right," I said, kneeling down next to him. "I shouldn't have been on your back. You know yourself better than I do."

"Apparently not."

"Is this the first time this has happened?"

"No."

Mom came back into the living room, handing him a glass of cold water. "Do you have a headache sweetie?"

"Not really," he answered, taking a sip of water. "I think I just overstressed myself." He looked to me.

"Yeah," I filled in. "He has a big game this week, and then we started fighting, and it was probably just stress."

"Alright," mom said, uncertainly.

"I'll drive him home," I offered. "He can just get his car tomorrow after school."

Bryce stood up, and I took the cup of water from him, handing it to my mom. I took his hand on mine, snaking his keys out of his pocket. "I'll be back mom."

"Call me on your way home!" she called, as we went out the front door.

We walked out to Bryce's car in silence.

Bryce slid into the passenger seat, leaning his head on the window. He slipped on his sunglasses.

"Babe, the sun isn't even out," I said, pulling out of my driveway.

He ignored me, massaging his temples.

I turned the radio off, knowing that the sound would probably worsen his headache.

"I'm not trying to be your mother," I started, turning onto his street. "But didn't you have a headache this morning?"

"And one yesterday," he muttered. "And one two days before that."

"Are they getting more frequent?"

"And worse."

My heart broke for him. I could practically hear the pain in his voice.

I pulled into his driveway and led him inside and up to his room, turning off the lights and turning on a lamp. "I'll massage your neck and temples if you sit on the floor."

He obediently took a seat on the floor, and I sat up on my knees behind him, using my index fingers to rub his temples and my thumbs to dig into his neck muscles.

"Holy shit," he muttered.

"You're really tight."

"This really hurts."

I massaged his temples and neck for a few more minutes before he pulled away. "Sorry babe, it felt good, but it's incredibly painful." He curled up on his floor.

"Come on up to your bed," I encouraged.

He didn't answer.

I placed a blanket over him, turning off his light as I left his house.

So what did you guys think about Bryce missing his tux fitting because of his headache? Did you expect Kayla to be his sister? Did everyone catch the time jump in the middle there? I was nervous that it might get lost on some people. What about Bryce's nonchalance attitude towards his attitude, do you think Sophie is overreacting or it's something she needs to worry about? And then the ending, when Bryce's headache hit him hard enough to cause him to black out? Thoughts on that?

So I promise I didn't forget about the update on Friday. What happened was that I keep my files stored in One Drive, and the shortcut for this file became corrupt, meaning that I couldn't gain access to this file. One meltdown later, my mom came to the rescue and fixed it. So hooray to my mom for being amazing.

Teaser: Bryce's mom comes back into town & the hype starts to build for the Rival Game on Friday.