Page 18 of Static

We managed to make it back without any more puke. I was breathing solely through my mouth at this point. I'd seen some pretty disgusting things in the military and I had a steel trap of a stomach. Didn't mean I wanted to smell myself at the moment. I silently helped Gwen get the kids inside the apartment, holding the door open as Auron padded in behind us. He always seemed to know when one of the kids wasn't feeling well and stuck close. I wasn't sure where Jecht was, but I made a mental note to text Seek to let her know Auron was with us. Gwen bathed the kids, and once they were dressed in their clean pajamas I helped put them to bed.

Auron hopped up and settled on the end of Grace's bed, curling up for a nap. Gwen closed the door to her daughter's room and turned to look at me. She cringed. "You have throw up in your hair."

That was hot. "I know," I told her with an amused chuckle.

She looked at me in disbelief as a smile appeared on her face. "How are you not angry right now?"

"Why would I be? Kids get sick. Not like I haven't been exactly here with Toxic, who is basically a child." I'd dragged him to his bed more times than I could count at this point.

She shook her head and continued to not say the words. I appreciated her not bringing up her shithead ex again. She was going to see that I wasn't like him. Every step of the way I planned to show her. As soon as I saw her walking out of that police station, I realized I was a fucking clown. I didn't want her to be with anyone but me.

She was skittish. So I was going to have to go slow so I didn't scare her away, but I could do that. She was worth whatever effort it took.

"Let me have your keys."

She looked around for where she'd dropped her purse and dug in it. Finally, her hand emerged with her key ring.

"I'll have some of the guys go pick your car up," I told her.

"Thank you again," she said, walking me toward the door. "Umm... about earlier-"

"Don't worry about it," I said. I didn't touch her, not only because she had that wary look in her eyes now that we were alone again, but also because of the vomit. "We can talk later." I planned to do a whole lot more than talking, but it would have to be planned out. The kids kind of ensured that. Not that I minded. Plans and schedules were kind of my life now thanks to being a lawyer.

I walked away, leaving her leaning against the doorway. As much as I wanted to stay, she needed time to come to terms with what happened between us, and what was going to happen again if I had anything to say about it. I went down the hall and knocked on a door a few feet down from mine.

"Oh, what the fuck?" Toxic asked, retching halfway through the exclamation. "What happened to you?"

"How do you have such a weak stomach?" I asked, arching a brow.

"Not my fault you smell like-" He broke off and gagged again.

Sighing, I held out the keys. "Can you and Butcher go grab Gwen's car for me?"

"Sure, where is it?" He grabbed the keys, careful not to touch my skin in any way.

I gave him the address. "Thanks," I told him. "Knock softly when you bring her keys back. Both the kids are sick."

"That explains the smell," Butcher commented as he walked toward us.

It was like he could be summoned just by saying his name. I swore those two were somehow telepathically attuned to one another. If you said their name three times in front of a mirror…nevermind. Some nightmares didn't need to be explored.

"You realize you have shit in your hair...right?" Toxic asked.

"It's puke," I informed him, grinning when the gagging started up again.

I went into my room and didn't do more than kick off my boots before walking, fully clothed, into the shower. The vomit had slid down the back of my seat and puddled under my ass. How a five-year-old could produce so much was completely beyond my knowledge. But now I had one car that was basically totaled and another that was going to stink to high heaven by the time I got out there to clean it. It didn't matter that it was late-January, it was still warm enough that my upholstery was going to need some serious elbow grease. If not outright replacing. I was not having a good week with my cars.

"What happened here?" Idaho asked, with an amused look on his face as he walked up. He was like me, rock solid stomach. I wasn't at all surprised to see him eating a sandwich as he stood there watching me wash puke off my seats. He didn't hesitate at all and took another large bite.

The first thing I'd done, after I showered and changed, was wash off my cut. It was none the worse for wear, thankfully. Couldn't say the same for my seats.

"Kid puke."

"Looks like it," he said, surveying the damage. He pointed with his sandwich. "Missed a spot."

"Fuck off."

"Can't. Strict orders."

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