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“Ty,” I whisper and shake him again. Nothing.
Jeez. Make a guy come, and he’s out cold. I chuckle to myself before I’m hit with another wave of the spins, this time with a sick feeling in my stomach.
I try to sit up, but I’m so dizzy I fall back over.
Deep breaths.
I try again and swing my legs over the side, but as soon as I stand, I walk two steps and fall to the ground.
Owwww, dammit.
My mouth waters as I feel my throat open. I crawl to the bathroom as quick as I can manage and make it just in time to hurl everything from my stomach into the toilet.
Sweat pours down my face as I continue to throw up. Over and over, I hurl and heave until my stomach is empty.
Then I dry heave.
When it finally eases up, I crawl to the bathtub and turn the water on cold. I stick my head under the faucet and rinse my mouth out. I gulp it down until I no longer feel thirsty. And then I collapse onto the floor and press my cheek against the cold tile.
I just need to rest. Then I’ll climb back into bed. So I close my eyes and let sleep take me.
“Shit, Lo! Are you okay? Lo?!”
I wake up to a loud voice screaming in my ear. “Oh my God. Why are you yelling?” I groan. When I crack one eye open, I see Tyler above me, looking frantic and worried.
“Let’s get you back to bed.” He lifts me into his arms in one easy, sweeping motion, and the movement sends my head spinning again.
“Wait!” I cry, and he stops. “I’m going to be sick again.”
He gently places me down in front of the toilet and holds back my hair as I vomit the only thing left in my stomach—water. I end up dry heaving again as Tyler rubs my back.
“Better?”
I shake my head as tears slip down my cheeks. It feels like a truck ran me over.
“Aw, Lo. Let’s get you in bed. I’ll find a bucket or something in case you feel sick again.” He lifts me slower this time, being careful not to make any fast movements. Lowering me down onto the bed, he kisses my forehead and covers me with the blanket.
“Close your eyes. I’ll be right back.”
I do as I’m told, but the room still spins, and it feels like it won’t ever stop. The thought makes me cry more. I hate feeling this way.
“Sit up for just a second.” Tyler’s sweet voice is back.
He helps me sit up, and when I peek my eyes open, he’s holding a glass of water and two ibuprofen. “Take these and drink all of this water.”
I do what he says and watch as he places an empty trash bucket on the floor beside the bed. Then he takes my glass, helps me back down on the pillow, and places a cool damp washcloth on my forehead. It feels amazing.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“You don’t need to thank me, Goody.”
“I do. You didn’t have to help me. Yet you did. You do. You always do.” My eyes slip closed as the last tears fall.
“I always will.”
As I drift asleep, I hear a faint whisper against my cheek.
Something that sounded a lot like I love you…
