Page 36 of The Heartbreak List

I screw up my nose as I beat feet to the bathroom door. It’s acrid and nauseatingly sweet smelling. Enough to make softer stomachs than mine sympathetic. I’ve been thrown up on too many times at this point, including once tonight, to yak at the smell.

She’s still bent over the porcelain, her huge jacket hanging around her waist and in a puddle on the floor. The thing she is wearing underneath is a fuzzy cream colored sleep set that is too skimpy to be considered pajamas at all.

Fuck, I’m glad I had no idea or our time in the diner might have been more awkward than the whole blue-cock-tongue-dildo image I haven’t been able to unsee since it popped into my head.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and moans. “Those pancakes were so yummy too.”

Her hair is clinging to her damp forehead and there’s no color in her face. Shit, am I doing the right thing by not taking her to the hospital? “Where do you keep your washcloths?”

She points at the vanity, and I open the cupboard to grab a cloth. Wetting it under the tap, I hand it over so she can clean up. “Those meds aren’t going to take. I’ll order a ride to the hospital.”

“Seriously, there’s no need. There’s another one I take. When it gets this bad.” She points at the top drawer and mumbles the name of the medication.

It’s a nasal spray so it bypasses the vomit problem. There was the same one in the kitchen too. I hand it to her. Once she’s done, I help her to her feet and the rest of the way out of that jacket so she can be comfortable, then support her while we make the trek to the bed. “Do you need anything else?”

“I’ll be fine. You should go,” she murmurs between shallow breaths. She’s tense like the act of lying down is hurting her as she settles into the mattress. “I’ve already taken up enough of your night.”

“I’m going to stay until the pain meds start to work at least.” In case she does need to go to the hospital. I tug the blankets up over her. “I’ll hang out on the couch. If you need anything, call out.”

“Thanks.” Her hand covers mine. She doesn’t have the energy to really squeeze it, but the motion tells me she wants me to stick around. Does fear grab her when it gets like this?

I turn off the light on my way out. Shutting the door most of the way, but not so much I won’t hear if she calls out, I stall in the hallway in front of a grouping of framed photos. I’m alert to every sound she makes. Ready to react to the slightest hint that I’m needed.

The photos are mostly of Indy and the douche. There are a few with the best friend who I met that first night Indy and I crossed paths. There are pictures of her family. Her brother. They share the same eyes and jawline. They smile the same way.

When she stops whimpering and her breathing evens out, the tight coil of tension releases and I move to the couch. The buttery leather groans as I settle into it. It’s nice. Reminds me of my old life. I can practically see Cooper with her blonde waves and her blue eyes beside me.

She’s wearing my Yale sweatshirt over her bikini because we’ve come inside from the pool and the AC is too cold. She’s tickling me and we’re laughing and kissing. It takes me a few minutes to recall the details because it’s a real moment that we shared a long time ago, and I have tried to kill a lot of brain cells since then.

She’s sitting on my lap and I interrupt our make out session to talk about the trip we’re planning to take when we graduate. We were going to go to Cabo for the four S’s. Sex. Sand. Sun. And surf. But my dad announced over breakfast this morning that he expects me to go straight from graduation to an office at his legal firm.

I squeeze her thigh. I tell her it will be better this way. That it means we can start saving for the wedding. A honeymoon. We can get married sooner.

And she smiles and agrees that Cabo can wait. Even though we’ve talked about going for a few years by this point. She opens to my kiss as I stand up and carry her to the bedroom.

We have all the time in the world.

Chapter Twelve

Indy

Idon’tknowwhatdisturbs me, but it wakes me out of a dead-to-the-world slumber. My head still hurts, but nowhere near as violently as it did last night when Theo practically had to carry me to bed.

I press my fingers to my clammy forehead. I feel like I drank an entire bottle of tequila by myself last night. I hate the hangover that comes with these headaches. My stomach is still a tilt-o-whirl.

“I said, who the hell are you?” That’s my brother’s raised voice.

“EJ?” Shit. What is he doing here? What time is it? Was I aware he was coming?Damn it, Gray. You sent my brother to check up on me?

My face aches because I’m clenching my teeth. First the argument last night where he flat out told me he doesn’t think I’m being responsible with my own health. Now he’s micromanaging me via EJ? This isn’t who we are.

I toss back the covers as a loud thump comes from the living room. It sounds a lot like someone hitting the ground. Oh no, what is happening? Is Theo still here? Why? Are they fighting?

Theo must have fallen asleep on the couch while he waited to make sure I was okay. It was super late, after all.

I grab my phone off the nightstand and brighten the screen. It’s almost lunchtime. I’ve missed half a dozen calls from EJ. More from Gray. Several messages that I don’t try to read yet because there are still spots in my vision, and I need to get out there and explain Theo to EJ.

Theo’s voice is groggy and thick with sleep. “I’m a friend. Theo. You’re Indy’s brother, right?”

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