Oh, God.
“El?”
Sully must have accurately read the panic on my face because it quickly reflected on his.
I scrambled inelegantly off the couch, limbs flying and ass landing on the ground before I was able to push to my feet and sprint to the bathroom. I could hear Sully’s footsteps followingme, and I tried to shut the door before he couldalsoenter the bathroom, but he shot his hand out before I could. It palmed the door, knocking it open again, the walls reverberating with the sound of that, combined with the clang of porcelain as I flicked the toilet seat up.
And then Sully’s hands were in my hair, fisting it as I hunched over the toilet just in time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ellie
I’D BEEN EXPERIENCING SYMPTOMS of nausea ever since I returned to Minnesota, but this was my first true bout of morning sickness. And, of course, it couldn’t have come at aworsetime.
Theonemorning Sully was here.
While in the middle of an important conversation.
And with little to no warning—without time to, at the very least, lock the bathroom door.
“You’re okay,” Sully muttered, rubbing my back with the hand that wasn’t holding my hair. “It’s gonna be okay, El. I’ve got you.”
Tears streamed down my face, and I knew he couldn’t really see them, see how much of a mess I was, but still. I crouched to the ground, my knees growing weak from the force of the repeated expulsions, and Sully lowered with me, his hands still in my hair and on my back.
Oh, God.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
I hated vomiting.
I hated that I’d have to get used to vomiting.
I hated that I’d probably have an endless number of mornings spent right in front of this toiletwithoutSully here to rub my back.
When the urge to purge lessened, I wiped my mouth but didn’t move otherwise, not trusting it. I hovered there, breaths heaving, for what felt like forever. And all the while, Sully was there. He was waiting.
Waiting, waiting, waiting.
Only when my legs began to shake did he urge me to sit back.
“Come here.”
Feeling boneless, I followed his lead, sinking into him.
He wrapped his arms around my middle but didn’t squeeze, just lightly caged me in, held me safe. I let my head fall against his shoulder, trying to catch my breath. Sully tipped his head, resting it atop mine.
We sat like that for, well, I don’t know how long. My harsh breaths echoed in the bathroom, and I closed my eyes, feeling dizzy and dazed.
“Has this been happening a lot?” Sully finally asked, and I gave my head a tiny shake.
“No, this is the first time. I’ve had some nausea, but not…”
“Okay.” Sully’s voice soothed as he slid his hands up my arms, rubbing them lightly. I didn’t fully understand why until I looked at my hands and realized I was shivering. Shaking. “Here, let me get you a sweater and some water.”
I really didn’t want to move, didn’t wantSullyto move, but I still had an aftertaste in my mouth that I desperately wanted to get rid of, and my skin pebbled with goose bumps. So I scooted forward, enough that Sully was able to stand and exit the bathroom.
Sounds trickled back to me—the clank of glasses, the clink of the cupboard closing, and then the rush of the faucet. Sully returned quickly, handing me water to rinse my mouth with and one of his old sweatshirts from high school. I took both, focusing first on the water, swishing it around in my mouth before spitting it back in the toilet. And then I took another sip, cringing at how it still seemed tainted by the aftertaste.
