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It was her turn to blink. “What? Go where?” she asked. “The bathroom? Are you feeling sick?” She reached for his arm, laying her palm on his bicep. “Is it your mom?” she asked him. “Memories of her?” Caitie licked her lips. “I’m so sorry I didn’t remember earlier. You must have been thinking about her all day. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to be here, when all you want to do is—”
“Can you give my apologies to Lucas? I’ll call him after the wedding.” It was as though he hadn’t heard her at all.
“Go where?” she asked again, before realization washed over her like an icy wave. “You’re leaving?”
“I need to get home.” Breck wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I can’t stay here. Can you tell Rachel, too. She’ll need to walk down the aisle with somebody else.”
“Breck. Talk to me.” Holding his arm, Caitie took a step forward, raising her face to his. He was still frowning. She reached up to tip his head down, willing him to meet her gaze. “Are you sick? Do you want me to call a doctor?”
He shook his head.
“Is it your mom? Do you want to talk?” Her voice softened. “What’s wrong? Let me help you.”
He shrugged her off, her hand falling to her side. “I need to get out of here,” he muttered. “Please let me go.”
* * *
Breck couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this. His chest was so tight it was hard to breathe. He sucked in a mouthful of air, but it caught in his throat, making his heart speed up even faster.
The nausea that had been swirling around his stomach all night was still rising. And his head – oh god, his head. It was pounding in a painful rhythm that made him want to scream.
He needed to get out of here. If he could get away from this hotel, he might be able to breathe again. Might be able to get this messy, thick pain out of his head and actually be able to think.
Because right now he couldn’t form a single thought. Nothing beyond the need to escape. Every muscle in his body was tense, like an animal faced with the ultimate danger.
“Breck, you need to breathe.” He could faintly hear her voice. “Please listen to me.”
He shook his head, but the shooting pain in his skull made him wince. Christ, was he going to be sick?
Somewhere in the back of his wooly mind he could hear her voice. Feel her hand as she pressed it against his arm. But it did nothing to soothe away the pain.
Only distance would. He knew that.
“I need to go home,” he told her. He reached for his bag, trying not to gasp as the shock of movement made his head protest.
“You can’t drive like this. Stay here, let me take care of you. I have some painkillers in my room if you need them.” The feeling of her hand stroking his cheek made his spine tense. He couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand being touched. Couldn’t stand thinking about his mom and the way she used to touch him.
He really was going to be sick.
“Breck?”
He swallowed the nausea down at the last minute. “I’ll call the hotel in the morning,” he told her. “Pay for my room.”
“You can’t go like this. You’re too sick to drive.” She paused, as though she was thinking something through. “I’ll come with you. I’ll take you home.”
“No.” His voice was rough. What kind of asshole would ask her to do that? She was in the middle of arranging her brother’s wedding for God’s sake. He squeezed his eyes shut. He was like some kind of virus. If he didn’t get out of here soon, he’d infect them all. “Stay here. I need to be alone.”
“But Breck—”
“Leave me alone.” It came out louder than he’d planned. Harsher, too. Caitie stepped back, shock on her face as she blinked away the tears. He took another breath, trying to find the right words. But there were none. Because he was an asshole and he needed to stop hurting people to make himself feel better.
Her expression felt like a knife to his heart, adding to the pain in his stomach and head. Everything he touched was turning to ashes. He couldn’t stand the way she was looking at him.
He shouldn’t have let this happen. Shouldn’t have let Caitie think he was fine with Christmas. That he was happy to celebrate with her when the thought of it tore him apart.
This was why he went away every year, keeping his miserable ass away from everybody else. He dealt with it by pretending it wasn’t there. It was the only way to survive.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, curling his hands to stop himself from wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I shouldn’t have come here.” He shook his head. “I never wanted to hurt you…”
