Page 72 of Sack

Ivy opened her eyes to a view of long, denim-clad legs. Her head was resting on Colt’s thighs, his hand on her shoulder. She rolled. Colt was asleep, back to the wall, head at a weird angle.

He couldn’t be comfortable.

With no window in the bathroom, she had no idea what time it was, and with the day and night she’d had, she couldn’t even deduce it with her internal clock.

But she had been asleep long enough to feel marginally better. Her head wasn’t pounding, and her stomach wasn’t cramping. And best of all, she didn’t feel nauseous.

Slowly sitting up, she realized her body felt weak, but she was desperate to brush her teeth to get the awful taste out of her mouth. What she really needed was a shower but that would have to wait until she was feeling a bit stronger.

“Hey.”

She looked over to find Colt’s eyes open, assessing her.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.” She used the toilet seat to stand, wobbling a bit.

“Let me help you.” Colt got to his feet.

“I’m okay. Just finding my sea legs.”

She took the few steps to the counter and leaned heavily against it. She looked awful. Hair a mess. Pale as a ghost, making the dark circles under her eyes stand out. But nothing that a shower and some sleep wouldn’t fix.

She flipped on the faucet. Colt was there, running her toothbrush under the water and applying toothpaste.

“Thanks,” she said when he handed it to her.

She scrubbed her teeth and tongue until the toothpaste turned so foamy, she looked like a rabid dog. But after rinsing, running her tongue over her slick teeth felt like heaven.

“I feel almost human again.”

“I bought some Gatorade. Do you think you can drink it?”

Ivy thought about that then nodded. “If I take small sips, I think so.”

“Good. Let’s get you into bed and I’ll get you a glass.”

Colt took hold of her arm and helped her into the bedroom. “What time is it?”

He pulled his phone from his pocket. “Four a.m.”

A few more hours of sleep were definitely on the agenda then.

Colt got her situated in bed, ran downstairs for a cup, and disappeared into the bathroom coming out with it filled with orange liquid.

“Thanks.” She took a small sip and grimaced.

“You okay?”

She could hear the worry in Colt’s tone and was quick to say, “Yeah, just doesn’t taste good after brushing my teeth.”

“I’d offer you water instead, but you need the electrolytes.”

“It’s fine. Believe me, it’s not the worst thing I’ve tasted in the last twenty-four hours.” She took one more small sip and handed the cup back.

He walked over and set it on her desk, then sat in the chair, pulling off his boots.

“How was the game? Did you win?”

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