He does a double take. “Hmm, I’m not a gentle puker. It’s probably just from the strain.”
“We aren’t taking chances with that.” I turn the tap on again and wash away the mess, then get a bottle from below the sink and spray the whole thing down with disinfectant. “I’m taking you straight to the hospital.”
“I’mfine.”
“Fine is the most unfine word in the whole English language.”
“I can think of a few worse ones.”
I have my phone in my pocket, and the monster smut is still on the screen. I quicky swipe it away, hoping Warrick didn’t read the title, and do a search on vomiting blood. Then, I hold up my phone so he can read it for himself.
“Throwing up blood is always a trip to the ER.Always.”
He sighs. “I’ll go to a private clinic. I have one I can call into on the way.”
“Rich people doctors.” For the love of monster literary gems, could I be any less tactful?
He nods, too sick to even notice how flustered I am that I just blurted that out. “I’ll go right now, and I’ll call if they’re keeping me overnight.”
I gape at him. That’s the hardest of hard freaking passes that ever existed.
“No way! You’re not driving yourself. What are you going to do if you have to be sick? Just open the door on the fly? You look like you could keel over.” I set my hand on his arm as I move past him, already gathering the stuff we’ll need. “I’ll get you a bucket, a few trash bags, and some water, and we’ll go. If you need to call ahead, you can do that in the car. I don’t know how a private clinic works.”
Warrick hangs his head. “This is beyond mortifying.”
That brings me up short. As in, full stop.
I know it’s not my place or my right to touch him, but everyone needs comfort when they feel like this. All I do is set my hand back on his lower arm, but the air becomes thick around us. I can feel it, but I doubt Warrick is experiencing anything but ten rings of hell at the moment.
I grasp his arm, letting him feel my grip through his shirt before I let go. I hope my touch communicates everything. I don’t find him gross, and it’s not embarrassing. People get sick. It gets messy. That’s life. He’s clearly not used to having anyone here to look out for him. It makes my chest get tight, which is a good cue for me to get all the shit together so we can go.
I don’t even think for a minute about how we’re getting there until we get into the garage, and I’m faced with slipping into the driver’s seat of a luxury car. It’s not the flashy sports car or the old collector muscles that are on the other side of the garage. It’s just a regular sedan, but I use the word regular in relation to things that cost millions of dollars.
This car is expensive too. That’s what I’m worried about.
I get behind the wheel, practically shaking.
I glance at Warrick, but his face is this terrible cross between super sick and horribly surly at being in this position at all. He has the bathroom trashcan with a bag in it on his lap, because things like used ice cream pails don’t exist in the houses of billionaires.
“Okay…” I blow out a breath and start the car, wishing I was driving my beater.
My mind does the old hop-skip straight to the fact that Warrick has never mentioned me putting a car cover over it. He’s never seemed embarrassed to have it parked on his driveway.
“If I crash this thing, it’s insured, right?”
He turns his face to me, and he has to practically pry his eyes open. “I’m fine. I’ll drive.”
“No! You just sit there and focus on…um…well, I don’t know. Focus on feeling better. I’ll get us there.”
I go to put the address into my phone, but he beats me to it with the fancy screen. The whole car is leather on leather, and it smells like it’s straight out of the factory. I adjust the mirrors, even though it takes me so freaking long because the switches are so complicated, and then carefully back out.
I creep down the road at a crawl until I figure that’s unsafe, too, so I make sure I go at the speed of traffic. Thankfully, the clinic isn’t that far from Warrick’s house. We make it without incident, and he makes it without needing the trashcan.
I don’t know what to do with myself now. Should I peace out and leave him here? It would be weird to go in there with him, wouldn’t it? I’m his housekeeper.
But knowing Warrick, he’ll downplay the severity of this. He could be bleeding internally and say he’s fine, and they might just let him walk out.
This might not be in my job description, but I take a deep breath, lock the car twice to ensure it’s really going to be okay, and head in.
