“She’s been sick all week. How the hell do I know this before you do?” Hunter’s eyes narrow. “Bruh, don’t let me find out you’re a deadbeat.”
With how chaotic this has been, all of our close friends know about the baby now. Ashlie told Hunter the same day Willa passed out at work, and I filled Chase in on everything that happened on our flight to LA. It’s nice not having to keep it a secret from them, but we haven’t told our families yet.
“What kind of sick?” I shake my head and dig my phone out of my pocket. “Like morning sickness?”
“More like all day sickness. According to Ash, Willa can’t keep anything down.”
“Shit. Okay. She’s been curving me all week. I had no idea.” I type out a text to Maya, under the guise of morning sickness advice ‘for my friend, Kayla.’ After I hit send, I look up to themstaring at me. My mind has been all over the place today, so I’m sure I missed another part of the conversation. “What?”
“I mean, I knew you had a crush on Willa, but you went from secret admirer to secret baby like a sonic boom. How did that happen?” Hunter asks.
“It’s not a secret.” I shake my head. “Does it matter?”
“Yeah.” Hunter snorts. “What’s going on? Are you trying to be with her?”
I would if she’d let me anywhere close. I’d lay everything at her feet if she wanted it, but the only proximity I’ve gained has been by imposing myself into her life. It’s not sustainable. She’s fiercely independent, and I’m clawing my way through it to show her she’s not alone. “I’m trying to take care of her and the baby. She just won’t let me.”
Hunter laughs. “Good luck with that. She’s a force to be reckoned with.”
Chase blows out a chuckled breath, clapping my shoulder. “Yeah, man. Hang on tight. She and Kayla get along for a reason.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TREVOR
Ijuggle a couple of grocery bags as I walk through the courtyard toward Willa’s house. Knocking on her door sends a sudden ripple of anxiety through me. I didn’t tell her I was coming. She would have refused. And she definitely didn’t ask for anything in these bags. She could be allergic to…well, all of it. My heart pounds, increasing to rapid thrashing when the lock jiggles. I’m nervous as hell.
Willa cracks the door and scowls at me. “What are you doing here?” A purple hair scarf is tied around her head with her twists flowing out of it behind her. I can just make out the hem of an oversized TAILA T-shirt hitting her bare thigh through the door gap.
“I brought you some stuff. Can I come in?”
She groans, reaching for her stomach as a retch rolls through her body before she takes off for the kitchen sink. I let myself into her dark entryway, the only light coming from the TV and the small glow above the stove. Running water competes with the garbage disposal as I close the door, then slip off my shoes. The mechanical whirring hides the sound of her heaving, but the violent lurch of her shoulders as I enter the kitchen is obvious. Iline up the bags on the countertop, next to a bottle of cleaning solution, mouthwash, and paper towels.
Grabbing the entire roll, I stand next to her and sweep her twists off to the side. Her poor body looks exhausted, clutching to the edge of the sink, knees half bent like they’re struggling to keep her upright. I dip a folded paper towel into the water flowing from the faucet, squeeze, and flatten it out over the back of her neck. She goes rigid at my touch until a sigh slips past her lips as she gives in to the coolness. Only then do I place my hand on her back. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been sick, Gem?”
“What can you do about morning sickness?” she says through ragged breaths, cupping water in her hand to rinse her mouth. The paper towel falls when she tries to stand straight, but she instantly curls back into herself and turns toward the darkened living room. She collapses on the sofa with a groan.
“Be here for you, for starters. Willa?—”
“It’ll pass. It’s fine.”
“Okay, well, I brought some things to help. You up to try them?”
“I’ll try anything to stop feeling like death warmed over.”
Chuckling, I pluck a bag off the counter and follow. Despite her joking, she looks horrible. “Any allergies, beautiful?”
“Yeah. Babies, apparently. I thought I wasn’t supposed to be miserable until the end.”
“Here, try this.” I hand her a ginger lozenge. “Have you been able to eat anything today?”
“No.” She rolls on her back to look up at me. “The only thing staying down is ice water.”
Digging into the bag, I grab the clamshell holding acupressure wristbands and sit on the arm of the couch, right above her head. “Wrist,” I say.
She squints at me, not moving a muscle.
“Please.”
