Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Of all the things I hate getting sick with, stomach bugs are nasty. They might be over relatively fast, but he’s one hundred million percent correct when he used the word miserable.
“How do you get sick in the summer?” I ask tentatively as I follow Warrick to the kitchen. He’s ignoring my directive to go to bed, but then again, he probably doesn’t want me taking care of him. I would hate it, too, if it were the other way around.
“George’s kids went to summer camp, and apparently, the whole place just got obliterated with a virus.”
“How nice of him to share. But that seriously sucks. Those poor kids. What a horrible experience. That’s enough to scar you for life.”
“The whole workplace will probably be down soon.”
He gets a glass from the cupboard and goes to the tap to pour himself water, even though I know he keeps bottles in the fridge. I sweep past him and go straight to the cupboard where all the medicine and most of the herbal teas are stored. I have my back to him when I hear him gag, and then he’s bent over the sink, being sick loudly.
My whole body breaks out into a clammy sweat. I’m not sure I have a weak stomach, but having a sympathy tummy is definitely a thing, and right now, I want to hurl a little bit too.
I swallow it back, walk over, and put my clammy palm on his back. His black button-up shirt is soaked through, and his body heat radiates into my palm. He’s clearly running a fever.
“Whoa. Are you okay?”
He grasps the counter, panting. “Other than being completely humiliated, I’m all good.” He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.
I pass him the towel off the stove since I just replaced it, and it’s fresh. Then, I get a bottle of water out of the fridge, find a box of medication specifically for fevers in the cupboard, and add it to the pile.
“I’ll clean this up,” he mutters weakly.
He reaches for the tap, but I dodge past him. “No way. You need to get into bed.” I crank the water on and reach for his forehead with my other hand. “You definitely have a fever, and it needs to come down before you do anything. I’ll be right up with all of this and—” I glance at the sink, cringing at the cleaning job that I can hopefully do while squeezing my eyes shut tightly.
Except, they don’t screw shut. They open wide. I get closer and really take a look. My heart does a shiver thing in my chest the same way it did when I realized what Reginald had done with those men who were coming for me. It’s pure fear that causes my cold sweat this time. “Fuck, Warrick, there’s blood.”
He does a double take. “Hmm, I’m not a gentle puker. It’s probably just from the strain.”
“We aren’t taking chances with that.” I turn the tap on again and wash away the mess, then get a bottle from below the sink and spray the whole thing down with disinfectant. “I’m taking you straight to the hospital.”
“I’m fine.”
“Fine is the most unfine word in the whole English language.”
“I can think of a few worse ones.”
I have my phone in my pocket, and the monster smut is still on the screen. I quicky swipe it away, hoping Warrick didn’t read the title, and do a search on vomiting blood. Then, I hold up my phone so he can read it for himself.
“Throwing up blood is always a trip to the ER. Always.”
He sighs. “I’ll go to a private clinic. I have one I can call into on the way.”
“Rich people doctors.” For the love of monster literary gems, could I be any less tactful?
He nods, too sick to even notice how flustered I am that I just blurted that out. “I’ll go right now, and I’ll call if they’re keeping me overnight.”
I gape at him. That’s the hardest of hard freaking passes that ever existed.
“No way! You’re not driving yourself. What are you going to do if you have to be sick? Just open the door on the fly? You look like you could keel over.” I set my hand on his arm as I move past him, already gathering the stuff we’ll need. “I’ll get you a bucket, a few trash bags, and some water, and we’ll go. If you need to call ahead, you can do that in the car. I don’t know how a private clinic works.”
Warrick hangs his head. “This is beyond mortifying.”
That brings me up short. As in, full stop.
I know it’s not my place or my right to touch him, but everyone needs comfort when they feel like this. All I do is set my hand back on his lower arm, but the air becomes thick around us. I can feel it, but I doubt Warrick is experiencing anything but ten rings of hell at the moment.