Page 133 of Resurgent

Despite the acid burning my throat, a weak laugh slips out of me.

“Are…” I cough, wiping my mouth. “Are you gagging?”

“No," he says firmly before I hear another dry heave just above me.

Lifting my head just enough to look back, I'm only half surprised to find that Hunter's face has gone impressively pale, his jaw clenched so hard I’m surprised his teeth aren’t cracking. But still, his hand hasn't left my hair.

“Hunter…” I rasp, somewhere between horrified and wildly amused. “Do you seriously have a thing about puke?”

His glare cuts to me, murderous and green around the edges.

“It's not a thing. No one likes puke,” he argues, swallowing hard.

I choke out a laugh that immediately turns into another heave, this one, thankfully, non-producing.

“Then…why are you still here?”

His grip on my hair tightens just slightly, grounding instead of painful.

“Because you need me.”

"Not puking on me!" I laugh. "Should I scoot over so we can take turns in here?"

"One—I'm not going to puke. Two—that's absolutely disgusting. And three—You suggested that far too casually. How often do you share toilets with people?"

That does it. I'm laughing so hard, I nearly throw up again.

Hunter mutters a "Fuck me!" as he gags once more, still pale as death, still glaring at the toilet…and still refusing to take a single step away from me.

Walking out of the bathroom after brushing my teeth, I find the boys laughing at the table, three plates dished up with the bar food that's clearly been reheated.

"Before you sit down, go put on your comfy clothes. My old football shirt must be in the wash, but I made Hunter throw in one of his old worn-in shirts and I pulled out your favorite sweats."

"Uhmm, is that weird?" I awkwardly ask Hunter, who's thankfully regained the color in his face.

"It's just a shirt," he says nonchalantly as he stares deep into his glass of water. "Just do me a favor, if you start feeling unwell again, take it off."

Matt nearly chokes on a fry. "Gods, Sir. Buy a girl dinner first."

Korr slowly closes his eyes. "That isn't what I meant."

"Really? Because it sounded like you just told her to get naked in front of me."

"Not—no. I meant—I just don't want puke on it. The smell is practically impossible to get out."

"Trauma. Got it."

Korr points a finger at him. "Exactly. So the shirt comes off the second she thinks something might happen."

"Do women typically have to guess if something will happen with you or not? How unfortunate for you, Lee."

A frustrated sound leaves Korr's throat as he drops his head into one hand.

"Alright, Lee. Go change so we can eat, and do your best not to get distracted smelling Captain-can't-handle-puke's shirt."

Chapter thirty-nine

Annalise