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By the time we get to the hotel, my vision is blurry, and there is a throbbing pressure inside my skull that seems to expand with each second. Oliver goes inside to check us in so that when we get out of the car, we can go straight to the room.
When we make it up to the room, Banks leads me over to the sectional, and the guys circle around me. All I can do is stare down at my hands, the same thoughts circulating in my mind.
“Why? Why would she want me dead? Why would she do something like that? We were supposed to be friends. She was my best friend, and…” I continue to mumble beneath my breath like a crazed person.
I can feel the brothers’ eyes on me, and when I look up, I see nothing but anguish and worry flickering in their gazes.
“Shhh, baby, it’s okay.” Oliver soothes this time. What would I do if I didn’t have them right now? If I was stuck back in my father’s mansion? Shelby could easily get to me there. Then it hits me.
“I could’ve died. She could’ve killed me and gotten away with it, and no one would have known.” The weight of that knowledge feels like an elephant sitting on my chest.
“If it was Shelby who hit you with the car at the art gallery, then I’ll bet anything that she was the one to push you off the boat the night you almost drowned.” Banks says.
“I can’t believe this. I didn’t particularly like Shelby, but I honestly didn’t think she would be capable of something like this. I don’t hit women, but I really want to hurt her for doing what she did to you,” Sullivan hisses as if he’s in pain.
“I just want to know why? What did she have to gain from killing me?” The tears start to fall again, and I don’t understand why I’m crying over her. She doesn’t deserve my tears.
“No one knows, but you can bet we’ll figure it out. From here on out, it’s us versus everyone else. We’re not trusting anyone outside this room. No one is going to take you away from us or hurt you again.”
Opening my mouth to say something, the words disappear, sticking to the roof of my mouth like peanut butter, and then I realize it wasn’t words I needed to expel. I feel my stomach churning like I’ve just been on the longest roller coaster of all time. In a second, I’m flying from the sectional and heading for the nearest door.
Oh, god. I’m not going to make it.
I don’t even get halfway to the bathroom before vomit erupts from my throat, splattering across the pristine floor. I empty the entire contents of my stomach while someone holds back my hair and someone else rubs soothing circles over my lower back. I don’t look back to see who it is, mostly because I’m too embarrassed to look at anyone right now.
When my body is done convulsing, my throat burns, my eyes tear up, and my head throbs in pain. I feel disgusted and ashamed when I straighten back up to see all the guys standing around me while there is a puddle of vomit in front of me.
“I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be ridiculous and apologize for being sick,” Sullivan tells me. “Come on, we’ll get you cleaned up.” He gently takes my arm and pulls me toward the bathroom.
“I should clean this up,” I complain, trying to pull my arm away.
“I’ll call room service. Don’t worry about anything, just go take a bath,” Oliver waves me off, and Banks falls in step with Sullivan and I. Flanking me on both sides, they take me to the large master bathroom. Banks turns on the water, filling up the large garden tub while Sullivan starts to take off my clothes he just bought me this morning.
“I don’t know what happened. I was fine one minute, and then I wasn’t.”
“It’s okay, that was a lot to take in. I don’t know if I could have stomached all of this either. Seriously, don’t feel bad because there is nothing to feel bad about,” Sullivan soothes, trying to calm me down.
When I’m completely naked, Sullivan takes my hand and helps me to get into the now half-filled tub. The water is the perfect temperature, and I sink into the bubbly goodness with a sigh. It feels like I’m sinking into a bath of heaven. Banks gets two washcloths, handing Sullivan one. They each squirt some soap on to their cloth and start washing me with it. Sullivan starts at my feet while Banks starts at my shoulders.
Closing my eyes, I let them massage and clean every inch of my flesh. Their hands move over my skin, and as if there is some kind of magic involved, all the tension and worry evaporates into thin air.
