by Ali Parker
She nodded. “Yeah. That makes sense. If that’s the case, you should stay away from me. I don’t want you to get sick.”
“Nonsense. I’m going to make you some tea to get some fluids in you. Maybe you can have some plain toast or something and that will help.”
Hailey closed her eyes and sighed. She looked exhausted. There was darkness under her eyes and her shoulders were slumped. “Thank you, Jack.”
“Can I do anything else?”
“No, I’m okay. I just—” she broke off. Her eyes widened and she clamped a hand over her mouth.
I grimaced. “Uh oh.”
She spun sharply around and launched herself onto her knees in front of the toilet. As soon as she was over the bowl, she leaned forward and was violently sick again. I’d never been very good with vomit but Hailey was my girl.
I stepped into the bathroom, ran some cold water in the sink, and found a face cloth in the cabinet. I ran it under the water, wrung it out, and folded it into a neat little square. I crouched down beside Hailey, who hadn’t moved from where she hovered over the toilet. I gathered her hair up off the back of her neck and twisted it around my fingers. Then I placed the cloth on the back of her neck like my mother used to do for me when I was a kid.
Hailey let out a contented sigh. “That feels good. Thank you.”
“Do you want water?”
She nodded.
I performed a masterful trick as she spat into the toilet as another wave of nausea rolled over her. I held the cloth and her hair in one hand while reaching across the counter to the little glass cup on the far side. I managed to turn on the faucet and fill the cup with cold water without spilling it—or dropping the glass in the sink—and bring the glass toward Hailey. She took it gratefully and sat back on her heels to take a sip.
I let her hair fall and she replaced my hand with her own to keep the cloth on the back of her neck.
“I haven’t been sick in so long,” she said. “I forgot how much it hurts.”
It hurt watching her too. I couldn’t do anything to help her. Not really. Sure, I could do my best to make her more comfortable, but comfortable wasn’t exactly an achievable state when acidic bile was climbing up your throat and spewing out your mouth against your will, making it damn near impossible to breathe.
“Could be worse,” I said.
She eyed me darkly from beneath her brows. “Don’t.”
“Could be coming out both ends.”
She rolled her eyes. “Didn’t you say you were going to make tea?”
“Not if you need me here.”
“Oh. Believe me. If this is how you’re going to behave, I most definitely don’t need you here.”
I chuckled and got to my feet. “You’re sure? I know you like to play the tough-guy role. It’s okay if you need comfort. I can rub your back. Or massage your feet.”
“Jack. Just go. Before I use your lap as a toilet bowl.”
Snickering, I made sure I was at a safe distance before saying, “I love when girls talk dirty to me.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“That’s what they all say.” I winked.
Hailey hurled the face cloth at me. It landed unceremoniously at my feet. I leaned over, picked it up, and ran it once more under cold water before handing it back to her. She shimmied closer to the toilet and I gave her some privacy and made my way to the kitchen. Before I even reached the stove to grab the kettle, I could hear her being sick again.
Poor thing.
I busied myself with making tea and pulling bread out of my freezer for when Hailey was well enough to leave the bathroom. I turned on some music to drown out the sound of her being sick and made sure it was loud enough for her to hear it faintly so she’d know I wasn’t listening. Fifteen minutes passed before I heard the telltale shuffling of her coming down the hall.
She lingered at the kitchen island and watched me pour boiling water into the teapot.
“Feeling any better?” I asked.
She shook her head, rested her elbows on the counter, and dragged her hands down her face. “No. But I don’t think there’s anything left in me to throw up, and if I sit in front of the toilet, that’s all I’m going to keep doing.”
“Fair enough. Toast?”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it down.”
“Worth trying. You haven’t eaten since that flatbread last night. And that was around what, ten after six?”
“Something like that,” she muttered soullessly.
I waited until the tea was properly steeped before I put her toast down so that when the toast was done and buttered the tea was ready. I carried it into the living room for her and got her set up on the sofa under a blanket. She used a throw pillow as a table and managed to take a couple bites of toast.
“Did you sleep well or were you nauseated all night?” I asked.
Hailey blew on her tea and took a sip. “I woke up around four feeling not like myself. It passed and then came back at five. I’ve been awake since.”
She’d need a nap. One thing I knew about Hailey was that she was not one of those people who could fire on all cylinders if she was sleep deprived. Sooner or later, she’d crash, and in my experience, it was always sooner.
“Well the good news is we can both have a lowkey day at home together,” I said. “Watch movies. Keep our asses on the sofa. Waste the day away. How’s that sound?”
“Like it’s all the permission I need to be an absolute piece of garbage today.”
“Glad I could help.”
Hailey and I spent the rest of the morning and afternoon doing exactly what I’d promised. Nothing. We watched movies we’d both seen a dozen times, and by the time noon rolled around, Hailey was feeling a little more like herself. I threw together a light snack of cheese and crackers and made a mental note that I needed to go shopping. Then I popped some painkillers for the headache I couldn’t shake.
After we ate, Hailey and I cuddled back up on the sofa under the fleece blanket and started yet another movie. She snuggled into my side and fluffed up a pillow to put under her cheek, but after half an hour, she slid off the pillow and her cheek was crushed against my thigh.
I watched her sleep and thanked my lucky stars she’d followed me out to New York after all.
I’d felt lost without her here. Now all of a sudden, things felt right again. Like they were the way they were supposed to be. Minus her bout of spontaneous nausea, of course.
The sickness aside, things were looking up.
I had my best friend back in my daily life. With any luck, things would look up for her and she would realize that she could do better with work—and that she deserved better than a company who used her as a frontline of defense against their entitled customers. Hailey Brown was many things, and an empath was one of them. Constantly taking on people’s baggage, especially petty baggage like phone issues, was draining her dry. She might not have been able to see it, but I could.
And eventually, she would too. Instead of telling her, I’d have to guide her. I could be patient.
After all, the best things came from waiting.
She sighed in her sleep and nestled in tighter against me. I reached down and tucked her hair behind her ear and then ran a hand over her shoulder, where I let it rest. In the stillness of the moment, I caught myself thinking how nice it might be to spend my evenings like this.
All my evenings.
But if Hailey wanted such a thing, she would have said so, and we would have talked about the night we hooked up before I left Nashville. As it stood, neither of us had brought it up, and I doubted that was a coincidence. I wasn’t sure what the night had meant. I didn’t know if it was a goodbye or the start of something but I didn’t want to pressure Hailey into making something out of nothing if all it was to her was a night of careless fun.
We were allowed those, weren’t we?
After all, what harm ever came from two best friends having sex when they were pressed
up against the wall and forced to say goodbye for an indefinite amount of time?
Chapter 15
Hailey
My eyes fluttered open.
It was softly dark in Jackson’s living room. The sun had set but the sky was still a light gray. All the hard edges of furniture blurred into each other as I blinked around and waited for my vision to adjust. I rubbed at my eyes with the heels of my hands and fell still when I realized my cheek was resting upon Jackson’s thigh.
I twisted my head to peer up at him.
Jackson was asleep. One of his hands rested on my shoulder, and the other arm was draped carelessly over the back of the sofa. His wrist was limp and his hand dangled off the edge of the couch. His head was tilted back, neck resting against the plush pillows at his back, and I couldn’t see his face, only the sharp line of his jaw and the curve of his Adam’s apple. His chest rose and fell in deep, steady breaths, and I found myself wondering how long we’d been asleep for.
When had we drifted off? Early afternoon? And why did I still feel so groggy and tired?
Food, I thought sharply. My stomach rolled with hunger in response. Little bubbles danced in my belly and a low growl had me pressing one hand to my gut and willing it to be silent. Jackson’s apartment was peacefully quiet and I did not want to suffer the jokes he would crack at my expense if my hunger noises woke him.
Carefully, I sat up. The couch cushions shifted beneath me and I inched away from Jackson before swinging my legs over the side and getting slowly to my feet. I was greeted with just the slightest hint of dizziness, but it passed quickly. On the tips of my toes, I padded across the sprawling living room, through the dining room, and up two stairs into the gourmet kitchen. Jackson’s place was definitely fancier than the place he’d lived in back in Nashville, and that had been the nicest apartment I’d set foot in.
Until this one, of course.
This New York City apartment was something else entirely. I’d expected we’d be sharing a shoe box cut out of a condo. That was not the case. This place felt more like a house than an apartment building.
Where I stood at the kitchen island facing the living room and dining room, I could see straight out the other side at the city’s surrounding residential and office towers. Jackson had a floor with his own private terrace outside, complete with grass, a plunge pool, and a hot tub.
How did you get lucky enough to live in a place like this?
I smiled at myself as I opened Jackson’s fridge and began rummaging around in search of something I could throw together for dinner. Jackson only had some odds and ends, so I had to get creative. I whipped up a pot of macaroni and cheese from a small company I’d never heard of and popped some frozen chicken breasts in the oven. I chopped up what veggies he had in his fridge and tossed them in a salad with a balsamic glaze.
As I worked, I caught myself mindlessly rubbing my stomach.
I’d never woken up feeling that rough before. Well, I couldn’t say never. When I was young, I was quite susceptible to the flu, so I’d spent many mornings and nights clinging to the porcelain throne for dear life. But in adulthood? No, I’d never felt quite that sick before.
Thank goodness for Jackson.
He’d stepped in and taken care of me. Now it was my turn to return the favor.
I caught myself smiling when I stared at him still sleeping on the sofa.
He hadn’t been feeling well this morning either. I could see it all over his face and the dark circles under his eyes. He’d been more than a little hungover but he didn’t speak a word of it. He focused on taking care of me. Now I could take care of him and get some real food in his belly.
It was quite literally the least I could do.
When the oven timer went off for the chicken, Jackson stirred on the sofa. He rubbed at his eyes while I pulled the chicken out of the oven and set it down to rest.
He let out a thick, masculine groan and stretched his arms over his head. “How long was I out?”
“I’m not sure.” I poured the balsamic glaze over the salad and added a dash of salt and pepper. “Sorry I woke you up. I meant to catch the timer before it went off.”
He pushed himself to his feet and indulged in another stretch. “Don’t be sorry. It smells great in here. What are you making?”
I listed off what I’d prepared. “I know it’s a bit of a hodgepodge of food but it was the best I could do with what you had.”
“Nonsense.” Jackson hopped up the two steps into the kitchen to join me and peered into the pot of macaroni. “I’m starving. This looks great.” He put his hand on the small of my back and his sharp green eyes fixed on me. “How are you feeling? Any better?”
“Much. Like a new woman.”
He grinned. “That’s what I like to hear.”
Jackson and I loaded up our plates and brought them to the dining room table. Jackson flicked on a light and I took a seat. As soon as his ass hit his chair, I started eating. Jackson dug in as well, and over the course of the meal, he pointed several times at his plate with his fork and exclaimed that the food was delicious.
I liked cooking for Jackson. He knew how to make a cook feel appreciated.
When he finished the very last piece of food on his plate, he slumped back in his chair and rubbed his stomach. “Damn, Hailey. That was delicious. I feel like a new man.”
“Thank you for taking care of me today, even though you were hungover.”
“I wasn’t hungover.”
“Liar.”
Jackson arched an eyebrow. “Okay. Fine. I was mildly hungover. Key word ‘mildly.’ Nothing a little cat nap couldn’t fix. What about you? Any ideas on what might have made you sick?”
I shook my head and pushed my nearly empty plate away from myself. “Nope. Not a clue. Maybe it was just a quick bug from the plane like you said. Seems realistic.”
“Well, I’m glad it went away. I got to reap the benefits.” Jackson gestured at the table. “Who knew you had it in you to be such a domestic housewife?”
“The mood strikes every now and then,” I said. I fixed him with a cool stare. “But don’t call me domestic. I am not domestic. Just because I like to cook and keep a clean home doesn’t mean—”
“What’s wrong with being domestic?”
“It implies all my value comes from taking care of your useless ass,” I teased.
Jackson feigned that I’d insulted him by pressing a hand to his chest and gasping. “Excuse me? Useless? Who held your hair back while you were throwing up today? Who put a cool cloth on your neck? One might argue I’m just as domestic as you are. And I, for one, don’t think it’s a bad word.”
“It is when one of the qualifications would be for me to quit my job and stay home to devote myself to taking care of others.”
Jackson frowned. “That’s a bad thing?”
“No. It’s just a thing I don’t want. Not yet anyway.”
“You’d rather get yelled at on the phone by strangers.”
My cool stare turned even cooler. “No. I’d rather be in a place where I can balance work and family life without having to sacrifice one or the other. I don’t want to be all of one thing. I want both.”
Jackson got to his feet and collected our plates. “You’re so easy to provoke, Hails. I swear, sometimes there’s a big red button on your forehead that just screams for me to push it.”
“Maybe you should exercise some self-control every once in a while.”
He turned to look at me over his shoulder with one foot on the bottom step into the kitchen. He flashed me a devilishly charming smile that I knew would haunt me in my dreams for years to come. “Me? Exercise self-control? You do know who you’re talking to, right?”
Laughing, I got up and followed him into the kitchen to help him with cleanup. “You’re such an ass.”
“You’re the one who followed me to New York.” Jackson rinsed the plates under hot water before loading them into the dishwasher. “I can’t be that much of an ass
. Or you’re addicted to me like cocaine. I won’t lie. I kind of like the sound of that.”
I packed the leftover macaroni into a glass container and clipped the lid on. “Rest assured, I’m not addicted to you.”
“It feels like you are.” He lifted his hand and held his forefinger and thumb about an inch apart. “Just a little bit.”
I waved a warning serving spoon in his face. “I’ll give you something to feel, buddy.”
Jackson threw his head back with laughter. I swatted at him with the spoon and he lunged out of the way, barking at me that his shirt wasn’t cheap and he didn’t want me to ruin it with the cheesy macaroni spoon.
“You should’ve thought of that before you started harassing me,” I teased.
He ran around the other side of the island like a coward. “You know I kid, Hails.”
I twirled the spoon and flashed him a smile. “I don’t. Come here, Jack.”
“Stay away from me with that thing.”
“Don’t be such a sissy.”
He straightened. “A sissy?” His eyes darted around the kitchen. He lunged for the sink and grabbed the wooden stirring spoon I’d used to stir the cooking pasta. He brandished it like a sword, jabbed the air three times, and scurried along the side of the island toward me.
I let out a delighted shriek and retreated.
“Who’s the sissy now?” Jackson bellowed, following me as I tried to escape.
I screamed when he rushed around the island and caught up with me. In a panic, I threw the cheese-covered spoon in my hand into the sink as I passed it by and raced down the hall toward his bedroom, where he caught up with me just before I made it around the bed.
Jackson caught me around the waist, threw me down on the bed, and smacked me right on the ass with the flat end of the spoon.
We both descended into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. I laughed so hard my sides hurt and I had to beg him to stop so I could catch my breath. Jackson slid off the end of the bed and sat on the floor with his wrists resting on his knees and his head resting against the bed. I listened to his ragged breathing while I tried to catch my own breath.
