“Neither am I,” I reply, keeping my head high. “We’ll make it work. Follow me.”
I don’t bother offering to help him down the short hallway. Just like I don’t bother to look back to confirm he’s following.
In my room, Noah has already lowered Sawyer to the bed. She’s sitting, although her eyes are closed and her upper half is slumped forward.
“Hand me one of your shirts,” Noah grunts, struggling to keep Sawyer upright while removing her bustier top.
“Here.” I dart across the room and work on the hooks on the back of her top.
“What are you doing?” Tremblay demands, an edge of panic to his voice.
Shit. We can’t have him panicking. Not when we’re so close to getting Sawyer settled in for the night.
With that in mind, I answer him at face value.
“We’re taking off her tight top and putting her in a T-shirt for sleep. We’ll probably take off her skirt, too.” I work my jaw back and forth, then add, “If you think that’s a good idea.”
Noah looks up and gives me an almost indiscernible nod of encouragement.
“Yeah, okay. Good idea,” Tremblay confirms as he makes his way across the room.
Noah and I work efficiently to get Sawyer changed. Then I pull her hair back and use the elastic around her wrist to secure a loose bun on the top of her head. We lay her down on her side, and Noah kisses her temple before backing away.
“I’ll sleep on the couch tonight,” he informs me.
I don’t bother arguing with him. The proximity will be a comfort, given the situation I’m about to find myself in.
I nod toward Tremblay, who’s standing several feet away.
“You take the bed. Make sure she stays on her side in case she vomits.”
Jaw ticking, he glares at me. When he turns to Noah, his expression softens a fraction. “You’re sure?”
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” I say. “I’m going to get a few more pillows from upstairs. I’ll use the bathroom before I come back, then you can wash up.”
He doesn’t respond, but he does step closer to the bed, to Sawyer.
“Holler if you need me.” Noah cuffs my shoulder and squeezes on his way out of the room.
And then there were three.
Chapter twenty-eight
Sawyer
Apathetic, broken whimper escapes me as I crack my eyes open, then immediately slam them shut again and swallow what feels like broken glass.
Good grief.
Everything hurts. Literally.
My head is throbbing, but it’s no match for the fiery rawness of my throat.
My limbs ache, and my neck is riddled with knots. Based on the way my hair is pulling at the scalp, I’m certain it’s a matted mess. The grit of last night’s makeup has my face feeling tight,dry, and scratchy. My low back and hips burn from whatever I got up to last night.
It’s agony, but I have no one to blame but myself.
The room is dimly lit, but in my state, the gentle sunlight streaming in is still too much, so I take a minute to adjust before trying to open my eyes again.
