Twisted Hate (Twisted 3)

JOSH

Jules wasabsent again at dinner, but since I didn’t want to invite any further questions from Alex about why I was so concerned about Jules—which I wasn’t; I was merely curious—I waited until we returned to our cabin before grilling Ava.

“What’s wrong with JR?” I kept my voice low.

Alex had disappeared into their bathroom for a shower, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he had supersonic hearing.

Ava chewed on her lower lip

“Ava.” I pinned her with a stern stare. “If she’s going to die on me in the middle of the night, I need to know so I can plan my sleep accordingly.”

“Funny.” She glanced at the closed door. “Okay, I’m only telling you because you’re a doctor. Also, because it got worse this afternoon but she’s too stubborn to ask for help.”

My earlier seed of worry blossomed into a full fucking tree, leaves and all. “What got worse?”

My sister hesitated before saying, “Jules has really…painful periods. Beyond regular cramps. The pain usually goes away after a day or so, but during that day…”

“It’s unbearable,” I finished. A hard knot formed in my chest. “Endometriosis?”

Most women experienced primary dysmenorrhea, or common menstrual cramps. Secondary dysmenorrhea, such as endometriosis, was the result of reproductive organ issues and was usually far more excruciating.

Ava shook her head. “I don’t think so, but I don’t want to speak for Jules. She doesn’t like talking about it.”

“Understood.”

There was a societal stigma regarding periods, and a lot of people, men and women alike, were uncomfortable discussing them.

After years of med school and residency, I had no problem discussing any bodily function, but I wouldn’t bring something up if the other person didn’t want to talk about it.

“Lay off the insults tonight, all right?” Ava gave me a pointed stare. “She’s not in the mood.”

“I’m not a monster, little sis.” I ruffled her hair, earning myself a scowl. “Don’t worry.”

After Ava turned in for the night, I stopped outside my room and rapped my knuckles against the door in case Jules was indecent. No answer.

I waited another beat before I opened the door with a quiet creak. The lamp was on, and I immediately zeroed in on Jules’s curled-up form. She lay in a fetal position on her side, hugging a pillow to her stomach. I couldn’t see her face, but I saw her stiffen at my entrance.

Still awake.

“Hey,” I said softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Just a stomachache,” she mumbled.

I closed the distance between us until we were face to face, and my chest pinched again when I noticed her shallow breaths and the white-knuckled grip strangling her pillow.

“Did you take any ibuprofen? I have some.” I always carried a mini first aid kit with bandages, painkillers, and other essentials.

“Yep.” Jules peered up at me with a scrunched brow. “Ava told you, didn’t she?”

“Yeah.” There was no point in lying.

She groaned. “I should’ve told her not to say anything.”

“Pretty sure I would’ve noticed something was wrong when I saw you curled up like a deformed shrimp.”

It didn’t count as an insult if I was trying to make her feel better. It gave her the perfect opportunity to snark back, and arguing with me always perked her up.

My smile faded when she didn’t respond.

Okay, maybe the deformed shrimp comment wasn’t as helpful as I thought.

ShouldI try to help her, or should I leave her alone? There wasn’t a foolproof method for alleviating severe cramps, and she’d already taken ibuprofen, but there were other remedies that might help.

The question was whether or not she wanted my help.

I made up my mind when Jules winced and clutched her pillow closer to her abdomen, her face screwed with pain.

Fuck it. I was helping her whether she liked it or not. It wasn’t like I could sleep next to her knowing she was in agony. I wasn’t that much of an asshole.

I walked into the bathroom and scanned the amenities lined up on the marble counter. When we dropped off our luggage, I could’ve sworn I saw—aha. I picked up the tiny bottle of lavender oil and returned to Jules’s side.

“I might be able to help with the cramps,” I said. “Turn over.”

“Why?”

“Trust me.” I held up my free hand when she opened her mouth. “Yes, I know. You don’t trust me. But I am a trained medical professional, and I promise I don’t have nefarious intentions. So unless you want to toss and turn all night…”

“Trained medical professional, yet your bedside manner could use major work.” Nevertheless, she did as I asked and shifted positions so she lay on her back.

“I’ve never had any complaints before.” I sat next to her on the bed and placed the pillow to the side. I nodded toward the hem of her shirt. “May I?”

Wariness etched onto Jules’s face, but she acquiesced with a short nod.

I lifted her shirt, baring her stomach, before I uncapped the oil and warmed a few drops in my hands. It was made for baths, but it’d serve as a massage oil in a pinch.

I swept my palms over her abdomen and rubbed gentle circles before easing into more targeted kneading. I wasn’t a licensed massage therapist, but I’d picked up on the basics and a few tricks over the years.

Jules’s muscles tensed at my initial touch, but as the minutes passed, they gradually relaxed.

“That’s it,” I murmured. “Deep breaths. How do you feel?”

“Better.” Her eyes fluttered shut. “You’re good at this.” It came out equal parts grudging and admiring.

“I’m good at everything.” A smile ghosted my mouth at her scoff.