“Put it in the big can by the door. I’ve already talked with the owner. They’re going to clean everything after we leave,” he said.
I couldn’t help but be embarrassed. “That’s awful. Cleaning up after someone else. I can run it out to the dumpster.”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s obvious you got sick from their food. It’s the least they can do.”
I shook my head. “It’s probably just a stomach bug. I’ve never been sick from Mexican food before, and no one else is sick, right? We’d all be sick if it was the food.”
But I’d talked too much, and my stomach was not having it. I turned back around and threw up in the toilet again. I barely made it, not bothering to shut the stall door. Nash came in behind me, rubbing my back with a surprisingly gentle hand, the warmth bleeding through my thin blouse.
I wiped my mouth with toilet paper and stood up again, bringing us almost nose to nose in the tiny space.
He was squinting. “Maybe we should go to the emergency room.”
I shook my head. “No. I’ll be fine once my body gets rid of whatever it didn’t like.”
“The tea. You said your iced tea tasted funny.”
I had. “Maybe.”
I couldn’t get out without him moving. He was blocking me. My body tightened at the thought even though it was Nash.
“I just want to go change and sleep it off,” I told him.
He nodded, backed out, and I went to the sink again, washing my hands, splashing cool water on my face. It messed with my makeup, but I didn’t care. I wiped as much of it off as I could with the paper towels and then headed toward the door. Nash opened it ahead of me, looked into the hall, and then grabbed my hand, leading me toward the back instead of the front.
“Where are we going?” It was almost too much to say at once. I was exhausted, unsure of my stomach, and hoping I could make it to the hotel before another bout hit me. Thank God Brady had said it was close to the restaurant.
“I had the car brought around back so you didn’t have to walk through all the people.”
It was such a nice thing to do. So very considerate that tears started flowing before I could even process them. Once we reached the back door, he looked over his shoulder at me, saw the tears, and stopped. He groaned as if I were torturing him. “Don’t cry. It happens.”
That wasn’t why I was crying. I was tired of needing to be rescued—from bathrooms or elevators or anywhere. I wanted to be able to count on myself. And his kindness was my undoing.
I slid into the SUV, resting my head on the window as he climbed in behind me. I let the cool glass soothe me as we drove to the hotel. When we stopped, I knew I wasn’t going to make it to the room. I was going to throw up again. I dove out of the car with Nash protesting behind me. My eyes scanned the area, found a garbage can by the valet station, and I took off for it. I barely made it as more bile left my body. My legs wobbled, and I had to grab hold of the can to keep myself up. The thought of what was on yet another garbage can I was touching made me shiver.
I turned to find Nash right behind me. I had drawn eyes. People were watching but trying not to watch. At the moment, all I cared about was getting to the room, getting into the shower, and washing away the layers of grime before lying down on cool sheets.
I stepped toward the front doors, and my legs completely gave out, but Nash was right there, catching me, holding me in his arms, and carrying me like a groom carries a bride across the threshold. The thought made me laugh, and my snort caught him off guard.
“Put me down. I can walk.”
He ignored me, and I was exhausted enough not to fight it.
Alice met us inside, obviously expecting our arrival, and I realized Nash must have been texting everyone. I felt a wave of embarrassment again. She handed him two keys. “Thanks, Alice,” I said.
“Don’t worry about anything. Just feel better,” she said.
I nodded and put my head on Nash’s shoulder, closing my eyes. A door slammed behind us, and the sensation of our movement suddenly changed. I opened my eyes to find him going up a set of stairs.
“What are you doing?”
“Going to the room,” he said.
“This is the emergency exit.”
“Right. We’re not taking the elevator.”
I hadn’t had to use the elevator once since I’d melted down on him the night before. He’d made sure I used the stairs every time. It made my tears return. He’d been so freaking nice, and I felt bad for calling him an ass in my brain a thousand times over the last few weeks.
I couldn’t avoid the elevator forever. I had to get over it. Nash wouldn’t always be around to fight security on my behalf. And what if I needed to go up thirty flights? It would be unreasonable for a non-SEAL person like me to take thirty flights on foot. I had to find a solution. The meditation app was fine if I was prepared, but I had to find a way to control the emotions so I could get in an elevator prepared or not.
We only went up three flights before he unlocked the emergency door and took us down a plush carpeted hallway to the room. He opened the door and set me down gently inside, holding both my shoulders to steady me. But the motion from the stairs and being put down sent my stomach into
