Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 160192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 801(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 534(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 801(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 534(@300wpm)
That would involve touching her. Something he didn’t want to do.
“You.”
“Yes, it’s me. You’re sick?” he asked.
“Me? Nah, I’m as healthy as a horse. Never actually understood that saying. Are horses really healthy or something?”
“I don’t know. I think you should get into bed. Have you drunk any water?”
She shrugged and stumbled again as she grabbed her toothbrush. “I need to brush my teeth. Again.”
Shit. He was going to have to touch her. Walking over, he lightly grasped hold of her arm so she didn’t fall. North wasn’t great with touch.
Unless he was playing or having sex with Jared. Or hurting someone.
He definitely didn’t know how to give comfort or care. Or how to take care of a sick person.
She swiped the toothbrush over her teeth as he held her up.
“Where do you feel ill?” he asked as she tried to resist him leading her back into the bedroom.
Angie shot him an incredulous look. “Where do you think?”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t really care.”
“Wow. You are so kind. Your bedside manner is amazing. I am truly grateful to you for kidnapping me, then being mean to me while I’m ill.”
How was he being mean to her?
Women were so . . . fragile. Actually, that’s exactly how she looked as she climbed into bed.
Fragile. Ill. Delicate. Dirty.
She still hadn’t bathed.
He stood there as she lay on the bed with a sigh. Now what?
“What do you need?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she grumbled, rolling over so her back was to him. “Go away. I don’t want you here.”
He nearly snapped at her. Then he thought better of it. Grabbing his phone, he looked up what to do when someone had a vomiting bug.
“You need to drink water. I will get you some electrolytes and a bowl.”
A shiver ran through her and he grabbed the blankets, gingerly placing them over her without touching her.
Then he walked out of the room. As he strode away, he felt strange. As though he shouldn’t be leaving.
She’d be fine. No one had ever coddled him through any illnesses he’d had. And he’d survived.
She might even be better by the time he got back.
Oh, she definitely wasn’t better by the time he returned.
No, she seemed much, much worse.
Her cheeks were flushed pink and her eyes were glassy as she stared at him. The smell of vomit was strong and he was glad he’d remembered an air freshener.
He set the bowl on the small bedside table, along with bottles of water and electrolyte drinks.
“Go away,” she grumbled as he sprayed some air freshener.
“Do you have a fever?”
“What do you care? You’re a mean old bum-farter.”
“Well, I think most people are bum-farters,” he commented.
“You’re the worst.”
“I know I am,” he agreed. “I’ve known that for a long time.”
She glared up at him. “Then do better.”
“I can’t.”
“Pfft. Go away. Leave me to die in misery.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“This is my bedroom.”
“Um, no it’s not.” Was she delirious?
“It is! And you should buggar off.”
“Buggar off?”
“I read it in a book. I wanna be left alone.”
“I would love to do that. But you’re ill. I don’t think you should be left alone. Now, sit up and drink these.” He waited for her to obey.
Instead she rolled over and blew a raspberry at him.
“That was mature.”
“I’m sorry, maybe you should have kidnapped someone else if you wanted someone ‘mature’.”
North let out a small sigh. “I’m trying to help you.”
“Don’t care. Go away. I wanna be alone.”
Fine. He walked out of the room and shut the door, storming off. But as he left the building, a wave of something hit him. What was that?
Pity?
Worry?
Surely not.
But, turning, he made his way back to her. As he opened the door, he heard her sob. Then a running noise. Walking into the room, he found her back in the bathroom, bent over the toilet.
This time, when she stood, she would have fallen over had he not rushed forward and grabbed her. He helped her rinse out her mouth, then picked her up and carried her to the bed.
Her head lolled back against his arm as though she couldn’t hold it up.
“You’re a poop-head,” she grumbled.
“I know.”
“Don’t like you,” she added as he tried to sit her up so he could get some liquid into her.
However, she wouldn’t cooperate.
“I know. But why don’t you try and get better to spite me.”
Tears suddenly filled her eyes as he held up the bottle of water.
“What’s the point?” she asked. “Everything just always goes to shit, anyway. I wasn’t meant to have ordinary or normal.”
“You want that?” Didn’t everyone want an extraordinary life?
“Oh yes. Imagine how nice it would be to be normal. But I won’t ever have that. Because stuff like this keeps happening to me. I must have done something awful in another life.”
“That’s ridiculous. We aren’t reincarnations. Now, drink.”
“No. Go away, poop head. I want Theo and Theo.”