Page 65 of The Love Chase

“Listen,” he said, forcing my attention back to his face. “I know tonight was kind of weird, but I’m really glad you were there with me.”

I swallowed, words utterly fleeing from my mouth.

He leaned closer, and I was certain he was about to kiss me. Mere centimeters separated our lips.

Then my stomach made an unholy gurgling noise and Liam froze before laughing quietly.

“I’ll let you get some sleep, Em. I’m sure you’re tired after all the excitement tonight.” He winked and heat crept over my cheeks.

“Oh, sure. Yeah, I should sleep.”

Then he did the last thing I expected—he pressed a kiss to my forehead. It was so sweet, so tender, that I sank into it, relishing Liam’s affection that I never imagined I’d be able to have.

For a moment, we lingered like that, neither of us willing to move—or at least I wasn’t. But then he pulled back, his brows lowering over his eyes. Then he held the back of his hand to my forehead.

“You’re really warm. Are you feeling okay?”

“What? Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”

I struggled to give a reassuring smile as my stomach gurgled again.

Liam smiled at the sound, but the concern didn’t leave his eyes.

“All right. Get some rest, Em.”

And then he grabbed his clothes and left the bedroom, taking my heart with him.

Liam

My phone said three in the morning when I heard a strange gurgling noise coming from upstairs. At first, I thought there was something wrong with the plumbing, but when a faint groan filtered down the stairs, I flung the blanket off and raced up to check on Emma.

If it weren’t for the fact that she looked absolutely miserable, I would’ve laughed at how I found her.

Emma was sitting on the bathroom floor, her head resting on the toilet seat, and her skin as pale as a ghost. Sweat lined her temples, dampening her hair where it was on the verge of falling out of its pink scrunchie.

“Hey,” I said softly, kneeling in front of her. “You okay?”

“Feel…terrible,” she managed to whisper through cracked lips. I barely had time to lean back before she was throwing up into the toilet again.

I moved to her side and gently drew the hair that had fallen from her scrunchie away from her face, rubbing a soothing line down her back. I was suddenly very glad I wasn’t a sympathy puker. I didn’t know what to say to make her feel better—I didn’t really think anything would—so I whispered the only thing that came to mind, which I hoped helped her feel better.

“Get it out, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

When the puke finally stopped flowing, she slumped onto her knees, her face so white I could see the veins beneath her skin. A faint ring of sweat dampened the neck of her T-shirt.

“I’m going to get you some water, okay? Don’t move.”

Like my life depended on it, I sprinted down the stairs, filled the biggest water bottle I could find, and then rummaged in the pantry for some saltines. She probably wouldn’t feel like eating for a while, but at least they were there if she wanted them. The last thing I grabbed was a large bowl and a wet washcloth before I raced back into her bedroom.

Emma was no longer resting her head on the toilet, but instead was sprawled across the bathroom floor as if she hadn’t had the strength to move. Despite how miserable she looked, I couldn’t help a light chuckle.

“Em, I’m going to carry you to bed, okay? I brought a bowl just in case.”

She mumbled something incoherent as I stooped down and drew her into my arms. She was light as a feather, and she felt so fragile I worried her bones would snap if I moved wrong. Had she eaten something bad? Or was it the stomach flu?

I had the nagging fear that I would get sick too, but I shoved it away. Emma needed me. That was all that mattered.

I walked her over to the bed and laid her down as gently as possible. I set the water and crackers on the nightstand before grabbing the wet washcloth and lightly wiping the sweat from her forehead. Her eyes fluttered but stayed closed as she groaned again.

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