Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“Don’t you dare! That’s not what you’re supposed to do anyway.” He drops onto his ass and puts his head between his legs. “Fuck me, this is some pain.”
Red welts line his back and side, traveling over his shoulder and down his right arm. More welts run down the inside of his left thigh. My throat constricts at how high up they might go.
I crouch beside him and put my hand on his unaffected left arm. “Hey, hi. I know you’re hurting and it’s probably hard to think around it, but can you walk? I’ll take you to the medic and get you something to make you comfortable.”
“I just need a sec. The burn is unreal, Ess,” he grumbles.
“We can bring medical to you, if that’s better.” I wish I could do something to ease him, but then there will be questions.
“You’ll come with me?” He turns his head, eyes glassy with agony as they meet mine. “You’ll stay with me?”
My soft heart leaps at his pleading tone. “Yeah. Of course.”
“Okay.” He swallows. “Okay, let’s go see the medic.”
I help him to his feet and duck under his arm on the left side, careful to stay away from the welts.
Rix wrings her hands. “We should come with.”
“I don’t need an entourage. I just need Little Miss Sunshine and Rainbows,” Nate barks.
“I’ve got him. He’ll be fine. Just needs Benadryl and he’ll be good to go.” I point to the red cross symbol on the small white building just beyond the boardwalk. The clinic is literally a hundred feet away.
“Message as soon as you’re done?” Rix presses.
“Absolutely.” I kiss her on the cheek and lead Nate away.
He swears every three seconds until we enter the medical building. There’s only one other person waiting, and they have a sunburn so bad on their feet that they’ve blistered.
The nurse takes one look at Nate and ushers him into an examination room. I help him up onto the table.
“We don’t see many jellyfish stings this time of year,” she says.
“Guess I’m just lucky,” Nate mumbles.
She looks him over, pushing his shorts up to expose the stings on the inside of his thigh. “You must have run into a few of them. Maybe a mom and her babies. I’ll give you a shot to help with the swelling and some cream to calm the itch once the burning settles down. You’ll feel better inside the hour. Stay hydrated and avoid alcohol for the next twenty-four hours.”
“I have a wedding in two days. Will I be okay by then?” Nate asks.
“You’ll be much better by tomorrow,” she assures him.
I hold Nate’s hand while she gives him the shot.
“You’ll want to take him back to your room right away,” the nurse informs me. “This will make him groggy, and you don’t want him passing out in a lounge chair by the pool. A sunburn will only exacerbate the problem.”
“I’ll do that right now.”
She hands me a tube of cream. “You can rub this on the affected areas. It will help with the itching, but it’ll be mostly managed by morning.”
“Thank you for everything.” I run my fingers through his hair. “Okay, Nate, we’re going back to the room now.”
“You’re gonna stay with me, right? You’re not gonna leave?” His eyes are glassy from the drugs instead of the pain now.
“No, I won’t leave.”
“Okay. Good.” He lets me help him down from the exam table.
“Congratulations, by the way,” the nurse says. “You’re a beautiful couple.”
“She’s sunshine and a rainbow, and the dark eats the light,” Nate says helpfully. His words are already slurring together.
“Looks like the antihistamines are hitting him hard. You’ll want to get him into bed as soon as possible,” the nurse says.
“That’s his one and only stop.” I’m grateful our block of rooms is close by, because Nate grows progressively less lucid as we go.
I manage to get him into my room, and he barely makes it to the bed, flopping down with a groan. “My back feels raw.”
“Roll over and I’ll put some cream on it.”
He does as I ask and grabs my pillow and Catalina.
“Be careful with her.”
He presses her to his face and inhales deeply. “She smells like you.”
I sit beside him on the bed and gently rub cream over the angry, red welts.
“How bad is it? It feels bad. Not as bad as it did at first, but still not good,” he says into my pillow.
“It looks uncomfortable.”
He turns his head so he’s looking at me. The furrow in his brow deepens. “Where’d the kitty go? I want it.”
“You’re holding it in your other hand.”
“I wanna huff it,” he mumbles.
I move Catalina so she’s in front of his face again. “My pillow probably also smells like me and is in much better shape.” He likely won’t remember any of this come morning, but I certainly will.