“Not a lot of hotels out here.”
“There are enough.”
We glare at each other, tension ratcheting up. I’ve worked through countless migraines, and even when I’ve accepted defeat and slunk into bed to sleep it off, it’s always been something I’ve done alone, even as a kid. I don’t need Wes to fuss over me. He didn’t come out here to while away the afternoon in a hotel room.
“Why are you being so pushy about this?”
“Why didn’t you leave me on the side of the road?” he counters without hesitation.
We’re so close we’re breathing the same air, the flecks of blue in his gray eyes bright in the sunlight. If either of us so much as shifted our weight, our lips would touch. His gaze drops to my mouth, and for a second I think he’s going to kiss me. Iwanthim to kiss me. It would be a great distraction from the increasingly sharp pain building behind my eyes.
Wes clears his throat and backs off, scrubbing a palm over his face and staring out at the field with his back to me. “If you really want to stay, I’m not going to force you to do anything,” he says, his voice nearly lost on the wind. “But I really think you should take the day off.”
“But the contest—”
“Will be there tomorrow.” He turns back to me with worry tightening his mouth. “You and I both know that this storm”—he jerks his thumb over his shoulder—“isn’t aNature Shotscover in the making.”
I swallow hard, a fresh wave of nausea rising as the wind shifts and the acrid scent of manure stings my nose. As much as I don’t want him to be, Wes is right. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
I nod slowly, closing my eyes and trying to breathe through my mouth. “Yeah. I’d like to try to get at least a couple of hours north, but it’s getting worse.”
Wes guides me back into the car with gentle hands. “Do you have meds with you?”
“Yeah. Top pouch of my camera bag.” They make me tired and loopy, otherwise I would have already taken them, but there’s no real point now in pretending I’m going to be getting anything done today.
He grabs the plastic bag with my prescription meds, hands me a fresh bottle of water, and watches with a furrowed brow as I swallow.
We make it two hours before I’m throwing up on the side of the road, just barely holding it in until the car comes to a complete stop. This time, when Wes says we’re done, I don’t argue.
Wes books ustwo rooms at the closest hotel he can find while I brush my teeth with bottled water on the side of the road and try not to die of embarrassment. “You can just drop me off and go without me,” I croak, my voice hoarse. “This doesn’t have to completely ruin your day too.”
“My day isn’t ruined.” He leans around me, opens the passenger door, and nods toward the car. “Hotel is twenty minutes out. Almost there.”
The meds aren’t exactly working, but theyaremaking metired. I must fall asleep, because the next thing I know, Wes is extracting me from my seat belt. “I can do it,” I protest despite my clumsy fingers. He backs off—at least until I go for my bags.
“I’ll come back out for them.” He slips an arm around my waist and tugs me into his side. “Let’s get you out of the sun.”
I want to argue. I have plenty of practice at fighting through migraines when I need to. But his embrace feels good, the heat of him bleeding through our clothes as we walk-shuffle into the cool interior of the lobby.
I sink gratefully onto one of the small couches and close my eyes while he goes to check us in. There must be a pool nearby, the high-pitched shrieking laughter of kids carrying through the lobby and making me wince. I’m still focusing on taking long, deep breaths when Wes returns.
“C’mon, darlin’,” he says softly, tucking a room key envelope into his back pocket. “Is there anything I can get you?”
I shake my head and instantly regret it when my vision goes dark around the edges. It takes all my effort to hold it together long enough to get into the elevator, up two floors, and down the hall to my room.
Moaning with relief at the blessed darkness, I stagger toward the bed. I’m dimly aware of Wes tugging off my shoes and putting the room key down on the nightstand. He murmurs something about bags, the car keys jingling in his hand, and then I hear footsteps and thesnickof the door closing.
What feels like moments later, I blink awake and squint into the semidarkness. A Wes-shaped shadow comes into focus near the window. “Go back to sleep,” he says quietly, right before doing something that sounds like ripping tape.
I sit up gingerly and blink in the dim room. The meds must finally be doing something, because I can almost open my eyes fully despite the throbbing pain. “What room are you in?”
“Not ready yet. I’ll hang out downstairs for a bit after I finish this.”
I frown at the mention of the uncomfortable couch in the lobby. Wes has done so much for me today that it doesn’t feel right to banish him to concrete furniture. “If you don’t mind the dark you can just stay here.” I watch as he rips off another long piece of tape and then presses the curtain to the wall, covering the light gaps to make the room even darker. “Where did you find tape?”
“Hardware store. It’s painter’s tape, so it will come right off.”
