Things I do not want to even think about.
“I…Oh god.” Clasping a hand over his mouth, he climbs awkwardly to his feet and dashes from the room.
I give chase, following him into the main bathroom in time to see him empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet. After grabbing a washcloth from a basket on the counter, I dampen it while Beck continues throwing up. Lowering to my knees beside him, I offer silent comfort as I gently place a hand on his shoulder, letting him know I’m here.
Muscles flex and roll in his back as he vomits, and I’m finally getting to see his tattoo. It’s an impressive inking of an eagle with its beak touching the lower part of his neck, the large wings covering both shoulders and each side of his upper back, and the main body covering the top third of his spine.
Beck slumps on his side when he eventually stops retching, and I dab his face with the damp washcloth as he moans and clutches his stomach. “Never drinking again,” he mumbles, and I hide my smile. How many times have I told myself that?
“Do you think you could get in the shower?” I ask a few minutes later after I’ve cleaned up the toilet and gotten him to sit against the side of the tub.
“Ugh. Do I have to?” His skin has a greenish tinge to it when he lifts his face to mine.
“You will feel better after a shower, some water, and maybe a little soup? When did you last eat?” I ask, handing him a toothbrush with toothpaste.
“I can’t remember.” He shrugs as he stands on wobbly feet. “My diet the past few days has largely been a liquid one.”
I feel so bad I didn’t come over sooner. I turn on the faucet and watch as he brushes his teeth and gargles mouthwash.
“Come on.” When he’s done, I hook my arm around his back and steer him out of the bathroom and toward his room. “You can shower while I’m fixing you something to eat.” My eyes drift to the small tattoo over his heart. It’s a cracked heart with the name Colleen and a date inscribed beside it.
“For my mom,” he whispers, noticing where my attention has strayed. He stops in the door to his room, hugging the doorway. His eyes glass over, and my heart hurts for him again.
“It’s beautiful.” I press a kiss to two of my fingers before placing them over the ink.
“She would have loved you,” he whispers with a sad smile.
“I wish I could have met her.”
“Me too.”
After a few beats of silence, when it’s clear he’s not going to say anything more, I urge him forward, helping him wordlessly into the en suite bathroom.
Making Beck sit on the closed toilet lid, I walk into his impressive shower, with two rainforest heads and a narrow bench that rests alongside the wall underneath the frosted glass window, and turn it on. I hop out before I get drenched, shrieking when I turn around to be greeted with Beck’s bare ass. He’s bent over, with one hand on the counter to steady himself, while yanking his sweats down his legs.
“Jesus!” I shield my eyes with my hand. “You couldn’t have waited until I had left?”
“Shit, sorry,” he says, still slurring his words a little.
“Shower and I’ll take care of the rest.” I hurry out of the room, trying to forget the spectacular visual as I close the door behind me.
I put fresh linen on his bed, with sheets I found in the linen closet, and then I head into the kitchen to make him something light to eat. Pickings are slim, but I forage some vegetable soup and crusty bread that’ll work.
When I reappear in his bedroom ten minutes later, Beck is tucked into bed, propped up against the headrest with tons of fluffy pillows behind him, wearing a sheepish grin. I’m glad to see some color in his cheeks. “Sorry about that.”
I set the tray down on his lap. “Don’t worry about it. It’s only an ass.”
“How very French of you,” he teases, lifting the spoon with a smile.
“How very French ofyou,” I retort, also with a smile.
I sit beside him on the bed, watching as he eats his bread and soup. When he finishes, I hand him a glass of water and some pain pills, watching as he dutifully swallows them. “You should sleep. It’s late, and you need to sleep off the alcohol.”
“I don’t want you to go.” His eyes bore into mine.
“I’m not going anywhere.” I lean down and kiss his brow. “Sleep, Beck. I promise I’ll be here when you wake.” I can’t leave him when he’s in this state. I’d only worry he might puke in his sleep.
He lies down on his side, tucking his hands under his cheek as he faces me. I get up and drag the tub chair across the room, setting it by his bed. I sink into it and pull out my phone and my AirPods.
