Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“Fine,” she concedes, as if she’s doing me a favor. “Get my black sweatpants and my black tank top. Or if you could just carry me to my luggage.” I glare at her. “Fine, just get me those things, all the black clothes are together.”
“Okay.” I look up at her and hate how pale she looks. Hating that after the last twenty hours with her throwing up more than anyone I’ve ever seen in my life throw up, she still has the attitude to serve me. “You lie back down. I’m going to get dressed and then come and dress you.”
“Jaxon, I think I can put on my own clothes.” She turns to get back in bed and rolls to her side in a fetal position.
I look up to the ceiling before I turn and head into my walk-in closet. I grab my own pair of black sweatpants, a white T-shirt, and a black sweatshirt. I walk over to her luggage in the corner of the room, hating that she’s just been living out of this suitcase since she’s been here instead of unpacking. Tossing the clothes around, I find a pair of black sweatpants and a tank top and grab a sweatshirt of mine before I walk out.
I find her with her head hanging off the bed and heaving into the garbage can. “I’m going to call an ambulance.” I toss the clothes on the bed, the fear creeping into my bones. My body goes cold and my hands feel like they have a layer of sweat coated on them.
“No, no.” She spits and then reaches over to grab a wet rag that I left there during the night. “Let’s just get me dressed and get me to the hospital so I can gloat in your face.”
She places the bin down on the floor before she reaches for her clothes. “Let’s get you dressed and then I’m going to go and rinse this out”—I pick up the garbage can—“so we can take it with us when we go.” I watch her try to put on her pants, getting even paler if that can even be possible.
She is panting as if she ran a whole marathon for five days when she finally puts on her sweatpants, and I watch her every single movement, knowing she’s going a lot slower than she even wants to go. “Stop watching me,” she snaps, “and go do what you need to do.”
“I need to put you over my shoulder and get you to the fucking hospital,” I bark at her, walking to her and grabbing her shirt from her and helping her put it on. She doesn’t fight me, which means she really isn’t feeling well. Once she is dressed, I turn and walk the bin to the shower. I grab the showerhead and turn it on and rinse it out. I do it as fast as I can, and when I walk back into the room, she’s ready to go. My sweatshirt falls to her knees and she starts to walk toward the stairs. “Is that safe?” I ask her and she looks over her shoulder.
“Is it going to make you feel better to carry me, Jaxon?” she asks me.
“Yes,” I admit to her. “Save your energy for something else instead of being a pain in my ass.” I know the minute I say the words it is the wrong thing to say when she looks like I just hit her.
“I don’t want to be a pain in your ass, Jaxon,” she snaps at me. “The last thing I want to do is be a pain in your ass and uproot your whole life.” I stare at her and see her hands shaking. “You think I want this? Making you miss events to take care of me? I don’t.”
“Ari,” I say softly.
“No,” she snaps, “don’t Ari me.” I can see the tears in her eyes. “I feel so fucking helpless,” she admits, “and I hate it like you wouldn’t believe.”
“It’s okay for me to be the one to take care of you.” I put my hand at the side of her neck, my thumb going over the vein where I can feel her heartbeat pulsing. “Let me ask you this, would you not take care of me if the roles were reversed?”
“Of course,” she replies.
“So let me fucking take care of you.” I walk to her and hand her the garbage can before bending and taking her in my arms. I head straight for the garage. “I’ll get your slides and your purse,” I tell her as I put her in the passenger seat of the SUV, “and a couple bottles of water in case you get thirsty.”
“I don’t want to put anything in my mouth,” she rebuts, leaning her head back on the headrest. “I might just nap.” I move my finger over to the button and slowly recline her seat. “That is better.” She closes her eyes.