“Maverick?” She lifts her chin, and I stop in my tracks. “What are you doing here?”
She looks horrible.
Her eyes are red-rimmed and her skin is pale. Her hair is knotted on top of her head, and there’s dried vomit in the corner of her mouth. I toss the candlestick in the sink and move toward her.
“What’s going on? What happened?” I ask, and she wipes her forehead with the back of her hand.
“Food poisoning or something equally horrific from a sandwich I got at LaGuardia airport.” She winces, and her whole body shudders. “Terminal kiosk. Never again.” She leans over the toilet and hurls into it. “God. I hope that’s the last of it.”
“You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”
“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Nicer than calling you gorgeous when you’re on top of me? I need to step it up.”
“Maybe not.” She smiles weakly. “I’m fine. Really. You should go.”
“Bullshit. Where’s Piper?”
“Out of town visiting family.”
“That explains why she didn’t answer my call. How long have you been like this?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” Emerson closes her eyes and tips her head back. I dart forward and catch her before she can knock her skull against the wall behind her. “I don’t know what day it is.”
“It’s Wednesday.”
“Wednesday.” She cracks an eye open and looks at my workout clothes. Her lips part into an O, and there are tears in her eyes. “Shit.Shit.I missed practice.”
“Don’t worry about practice, Red. We’ll cross that bridge later. I’m here. How can I help?”
“You don’t have to help.”
“I don’t have to do anything, but I want to. Tell me what you need.”
Emerson blinks, and I wait for her to argue. To push back and tell me to get the hell out, but she doesn’t. She sighs and gives me a small nod.
“I need a shower, but I’m afraid to stand up.”
“Easy enough.” I pull off my shirt and throw it toward the door. “I happen to love showers.”
“You just want an excuse to take off your clothes, don’t you?” Emerson murmurs, and I wrap my arms around her.
“You know me well,” I whisper in her ear. “Get naked, Hartwell.”
“I’m disgusting, and I smell,” she argues.
“And? I’ve seen you sweat your ass off at practice and with blood on your jersey. This is nothing.”
“It’s too much work.”
“Arms up then, darlin’. I’ll do it for you.”
Emerson grumbles, and I fight back a smile when she slowly lifts her arms. I hear her say something that sounds close toassholeandpushyunder her breath, but I consider it a win.
She shivers, and I rub my hands down her arms. Her skin warms under my touch, and the sigh she lets out is the best thing I’ve heard all day.
“I’m going to take your shorts off then pick you up, okay?” I ask, wanting to make sure we’re on the same page. She’s out of it, a half second late with her reactions, and the last thing I want is for her to think I’m taking advantage of her. “It’s only to put you in the shower.”
