Jay woke to the sound of retching. For half a second, he didn’t know where he was. Then it came again—loud in a house that was usually quiet.Blue.
He was already out of bed before he’d fully opened his eyes. After pulling on sweats, Jay dragged on a T-shirt. He stumbled out of his room, made his way to hers, and tapped on the door. No reply came, so he opened it and stepped inside.
Does this happen daily? Should I leave her alone?
But he was already moving to the open bathroom door. Blue was on her knees in front of the toilet, one hand braced against the tile, the other gripping porcelain like it had personally offended her.
She looked wrecked. Hair hanging forward, shoulders shaking, oversized T-shirt riding up her thighs.
She was carrying his child, and he or she was making Blue sick. Jay had read up on morning sickness and had to say he was glad it wouldn’t happen to him, especially seeing it firsthand.
He stepped inside the bathroom. “Blue?”
She gagged again.
“You okay?” he asked quietly. Stupid question. Obviously she wasn’t.
Blue ignored him and focused on breathing like she was exercising. He moved closer, crouched behind her, and rested a hand lightly at the back of her head.
When the worst of it passed, she sagged a little.
“You done?” he asked.
She nodded once.
He helped her up carefully.Has she lost weight?He handed her a damp cloth and flushed the toilet.
“Does this happen every day?”
She lowered the cloth and looked at him. Even sick, she had fire in her eyes.
“No. Every few,” she muttered. “You’re not that unlucky.”
His mouth twitched. She was still Blue.
“Saltines?” he offered.
“I’m showering first.”
She was standing there in nothing but what was clearly one of her brother’s T-shirts and cotton panties. Any other morning, he’d have noticed—well, he’d have to be an iceman not to notice, but she needed him to look after her now, not lust after her. She was so tired and pale, it worried him.
“Should you go back to bed, Blue?”
“I’m fine. Women all over the world are in the exact same state as me. I can handle it.” The words had a little bite to them now.
“I get that. However, none of them are puking their guts out in my spare bedroom.”
“You let me in here,” she protested.
Jay didn’t think he could win this debate, so he simply kissed her sweaty forehead and left.
He ran downstairs, grabbed some saltines and a bottle of water, brought them upstairs, and left them on her bedside table.
Jay showered at warp speed, which he never did because he loved standing under the hot water for ages. He then dressed and hurried downstairs.
By the time Blue arrived, he’d made coffee. She looked better than twenty minutes ago. Still pale, though, and fragile around the edges.
Blue McAllister was many things—loud, bold, stubborn as hell—but fragile wasn’t one of them. Seeing it unsettled him more than the vomiting had.
