Page 66 of Rum Sips and Salty Lips

CARINA

We packedSienna’s last day with as much wedding planning as possible while nursing our slight hangovers. We’ve been partying together since we were eighteen, but I should’ve learned by now I can’t do it the way I used to. Hangovers feel like I’ve failed at holding my alcohol.

I try hard to stay in control. When I was younger, I’d let loose. I have enough regret about the stupid things I did to not make those mistakes anymore. I couldn’t risk drunk texting Orion and asking for a repeat.

I shake off the feeling that my life has drastically changed, and I can’t do anything about it.

Haley and Sienna kept asking me about the flush on my cheeks. I swore to them it was the heat. I wasn’t about to admit I’m sleeping with Orion…if twice in a week counts as an ongoing thing. It’s not going anywhere. So they don’t need to know.

We dropped Sienna off at the Sarasota airport since Beckett had to deal with a resort emergency. I waited for her to say something negative about him, for her to be bummed hecouldn’t get out of work, even for the hour round-trip drive. But she doesn’t. Instead, we get a wink and a nudge about the amazing morning they had together. I won’t judge if she’s happy.

I’m finally feeling better, cleaning up after dinner, when I hear a knock at my exterior office door. After last night, I figured Orion would go cold again. He agreed with me that we aren’t hooking up again. Even if it was my idea, and I didn’t like it.

He pushes past me into the kitchen before I can react. He’s limping and grimacing. “You broke me. You need to fix me.” He leans against my counter.

“What’s wrong?” I reach for him but I don’t know where to put my hands. I can’t cause him more pain.

“You did something to my back and now I can’t walk properly.”

“You walked fine yesterday.”

“It didn’t start until later,” he answers.

“Did you call a doctor?”

“It’s Sunday. The only places open are urgent cares on the mainland. I have an appointment tomorrow morning. I’m your problem until then.” He complains about the mainland being such an inconvenience the way we all do. It’s just a ten-minute drive over the bridge if there’s no traffic. But on a Sunday evening, it’ll be backed up for ages with people headed home from their weekend stay here.

I can’t help it. I laugh.

“You think this is funny?”

“It kind of is. You have a sex injury.”

“Which I’m very excited to tell a stranger about.” His eyes crease like he’s trying to hold back a laugh.

“If it helps, I’m also quite sore.” It’s not a lie. I thought I could handle him. But no amount of yoga push-ups can match him.

Orion glares at me. But his smile threatens to break his mask. He likes knowing he wore me out.

“Where does it hurt?” I ask.

“Right above my hip on the left side.” He turns and shows me, lifting the hem of his shirt so I can see his tanned skin.

I run my hand over his muscle. I know a lot of anatomy but I’m not a doctor. If I was teaching yoga and someone came to me with this, I’d tell them to see a medical professional. “I’m not qualified to treat injuries.”

“Don’t care. I’m your problem.”

“How does a hot bath sound? I have some bath salts to help you relax.”

He faces me. I’m close to him. In his space. We’ve obviously been closer. This feels more intimate. This won’t lead to sex. It isn’t a challenge. It’s need.

He nods. “Any chance you have a tub on this floor?”

“I do. But it’s a small one. The primary is much bigger. It’s worth it, I promise.”

He nods, resting his forehead on mine for a second before turning toward the stairs. He hasn’t been anywhere except my office and kitchen. But it feels like he belongs here. He stops and considers the stairs like climbing them is Everest. They are steep and narrow, and I go slow when I carry my laundry down because I’m afraid I’ll trip.

“I got you.” I place my hand on the center of his back. I can’t carry him up, but I’ll make sure he knows I’m here.

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