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Marcus stared at Isla. She was looking up at him. There was nervousness in her eyes. Hope was there too. He opened his mouth, unsure what he was going to say when his stomach rolled over.
“I’m going to be sick.” Turning, he raced off to the bathroom.
“Marcus!” Isla cried out. He could feel her following him as he dove to the toilet.
Oh no, he should have shut the bathroom door behind him.
He vomited into the toilet, his stomach heaving as Isla kneeled beside him and rubbed his back.
So gross.
He really didn’t deserve her. He should tell her to leave so she didn’t have to see him like this.
But he didn’t have it in him because he needed her comfort.
When he finally stopped heaving, he sat back on his butt.
“Here you are.” To his shock, Eliot crouched on his other side and handed him a glass of water. “Drink this down.”
He just stared at the other man in surprise. What was he still doing here? He’d have thought he might have run a mile.
Or at least have waited out in the other room.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m trying to get you to drink some water,” Eliot replied dryly. “You need to rehydrate.”
He wanted him to drink water? What? Why?
“Or would it be better for me to put it in a bottle? I can do that.”
“What? No!” Marcus snatched the water, spilling some of it over himself and Isla who was crowded close to him. “I can drink out of a glass.”
“Careful,” Eliot warned. “No snatching. You got some on Isla.”
“I’m sorry, La-la.” He gave her a sad, puppy dog look. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Of course you didn’t, and I’m fine.” She rubbed his arm. She never could resist his puppy dog look. It pretty much got him whatever he wanted.
Eliot cleared his throat, and he glanced over to find him staring at him sternly.
Uh-oh.
It had always gotten him whatever he wanted. But maybe not with this man. How could he read him so easily and quickly?
“What do you need? I’ll help you to bed,” Isla told him.
“We need to call for a doctor,” Eliot said firmly.
Uh, no, they didn’t.
He shook his head. “Nope. I’m fine now.”
“You were just vomiting. That’s not fine. You could have the flu. Or something else.”
“Nah, I just ate too much sugar.”
“Sugar?” Eliot asked.
“Yeah, after you… well, after we left, we came back here, and I ate some chocolate and candy. Overdid it.”
“Can I get you some more water? Here.” Isla took his glass and refilled it. He gave her a grateful smile.
“Thanks.”
“I’ll get you a cloth. And run your bath,” she said.
“Where did you get this chocolate and candy?” Eliot asked.
“Bought it with me. Had a whole suitcase full. I eat my feelings.”
Isla returned with a cloth, bending so she could wipe his face.
Ahh, bliss.
He smiled at her as he leaned back against the wall. “You take such good care of me.”
“Of course I do.” She got up again before he could grab her.
If he hadn’t been watching her, he might not have seen her go pale and sway back and forth.
“Isla!” He jumped up, but he was too late. Eliot got there first, wrapping an arm around her.
“Isla? Are you all right?” Eliot asked.
“What’s wrong?” Marcus got to his feet, ignoring the way his body protested the movement. “What happened?”
“Nothing. I just stood up too fast. That’s all. The room swam for a moment. I’m fine.”
“Fine? Are you sure?” Marcus asked.
“If you’ll forgive me for saying, you don’t look fine, little one,” Eliot told her.
He was right. She didn’t. She looked pale and tired.
Fuck. He wasn’t taking good care of her.
She reached out to grasp hold of his hand. “I’m fine, Marcus.”
Except he knew her. He knew that she’d say that even if she was dying just to make him feel better.
He frowned, giving her a firm look. “Tell the truth, Isla.”
Surprise filled her face. “What?”
“I know you’re not fine. You’re just saying that to make me feel better, but you’re not allowed to lie to me.”
“I don’t… I didn’t mean to lie.” Her breath hitched. “I’m s-sorry. I-it just comes out without thinking.”
“I know. I know. But I need to know how you really feel, otherwise how am I going to take care of you?” he asked.
“I take care of you,” she insisted.
“We take care of each other.” He drew her away from Eliot and into his arms.
Eliot stood there. He was on the outside, looking in. Perhaps he should just go. Being around the two of them was torturous. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt this lonely.
Although he’d been lonely ever since Anna died. It’s just that before now, he’d rarely spent time around others.
Christ. He’d cut himself off from everyone, hadn’t he? Even his good friends. He’d done exactly what Anna had told him not to do.
