“I did?”
He nodded.
My head felt full and heavy. I slowly drew my legs up and rested my forehead on my knees. My hair spilled over my arms in a silky, tangled mess.
“Thank you.” My eyes closed.
I heard the splash of water and then the sound of Hunter lathering the soap between his hands. A moment later, he was washing my back, gently kneading the knots that covered me.
“What the fuck must it be like to be a woman?” he muttered.
“Hmm?” I didn’t open my eyes, but instead sank further into his touch.
“Can’t even go out to a bar and have fun without worrying about shit like this.”
I moaned softly.
Hunter cursed. “You’re killing me, Poppy.”
He dunked a washcloth into the bathwater before sponging off my back and arms. He pulled the plug and as the water drained, he helped me stand. After wrapping me in a towel, he lifted me, wet soggy mess and all, into his arms.
“Uh,” I said as he took a step toward the door.
He looked down at me and raised his eyebrows.
“I have to use the…”
“Ah, got it.”
“I can do it alone,” I said. “If you could just—”
“Call if you need help. Seriously.” Hunter shut the door to give me privacy.
I struggled but somehow managed.
Grasping the side of the sink, I hauled myself up and felt the world spin as I tried to leave the bathroom. I closed my eyes and waited for the nausea to pass.
“Poppy? You okay?”
I must’ve made a noise because suddenly Hunter was there, and he was lifting me into his arms. He placed me in the center of his bed, got me into one of his clean T-shirts, and then tucked me in.
“I’m going to get you some orange juice,” he said. “Be right back.”
I was asleep before he returned.
I woke up again when the sun was no longer in the sky and the moon had taken its place.
“Hunter? Hunter,” I said louder.
“I’m here, Poppy.”
A lamp turned on and Hunter’s face was awash in a soft glow. He looked exhausted and worried, and he was still in his clothes. Had he been keeping watch this entire time?
“Will you hold me?” My voice sounded weak.
“Poppy—”
“Please. I need you.”