Page 117 of Roughing It

“Hey, I’m not…” I swallow. “It’s not your fault, it’s mine. But right now, we don’t have time for this.” Without asking, I scoop her up and rush down the path. And, of course, the stubborn thing fights me.

“Youcan’t carry me the entire way!”

“I sure as shit can.”

“The path is too steep, and it took us over an hour to get to the top!”

“Are you doubting my strength and endurance?”

“Seriously?”

I raise an eyebrow.

With a huff, she says, “You’re the epitome of strength, endurance, and virility. Now shut up and put me down!”

“Blakely, listen to me. You might feel fine now, but you’re gonna be sick. I’m trying to get you home before your body betrays you.”

Her body goes rigid in my arms. “How sick?”

“Very.”

We make it three-fourths of the way down the mountain before it hits. With a floundering gasp, Blakely jumps from my arms and stumbles a step or two before doubling over. I sigh, bless her heart. She’s a mess. My mess.

I cringe at the sound of her violent retching. It’s gonna be a long night.

By some miracle, I get her back to the cabin. We stop twice for her to throw up, but we make it.

Every part of me wishes I could take her place. I’d gladly eat my weight in those fucking berries if it meant she wasn’t suffering. If I could take away the pain and discomfort. She’s in the worst of it now. Her slight frame trembles as she sobs and heaves.

Sinking to the ground, I pet her hair. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“Please go away,” she groans, hiding her face in her hands from where she lays curled around the toilet on the bathroom floor.

“No, I’m here to take care of you. Nurse Hudson. Want me to get the hat? I think it’s still by our bed.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Okay, but I’m not joking about helping you.”

“It’s too embarrassing.”

“What’s embarrassing about it? It’s a natural, albeit unfortunate, side effect of being human.” I pause, skimming my fingers along her damp skin. “At least it’s not coming out the oth?—”

“I’m begging you not to finish that sentence.” Another spasm rocks her, and she clutches her stomach. Tears fall in furrows down her cheeks. “It hurts. I’m gross. And this is not sexy.”

“Are you worried this makes me want you less? You know me better than that. Now, move your hands, and let me wipe your face.” She does as I ask, dropping her hands and facing me. I gently wipe her eyes, her cheeks, and the corners of her mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

Incredulous at her words, I gape at her. “What on god’s green earth are you apologizing for?”

“We only have a week left together, and I’m ruining it.”

“Blakely, hear me.” I tilt her face upward. “You’re not ruining anything. Being here, taking care of you, is where I want to be.”

She gives me a wan smile. “Can you help me brush my teeth?”

I kiss her forehead and reach above us, grabbing her toothbrush from the cup on the sink and putting a thin layer of toothpaste on it. Blakely takes the toothbrush, her wrist limp. Steadying her hand, together we brush her teeth. I help her stand as she rinses out her mouth.

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