Page 103 of Chasing Paradise

“It’s not all fish, right? There are other dishes…”

“There are. But the closest I could get you to something you are used to is a variety of empanadas: chicken, beef, pork, and cheese ones. I opted out of the veggies,” he said, giving me a knowing smile. “They’re fried. So they can scratch that itch for fries and chicken fingers you have. I did also get some traditional dishes: Arroz con camarones—which is rice with shrimp, seco de pollo—a chicken stew, and sanduche de pernil—a pork sandwich.”

“Honestly, it all sounds amazing,” I told him, meaning it. After a week on a fruit diet, I wouldn’t turn my nose up at any solid food again without at least tasting it. I looked at the pile of to-go containers. “But what are you going to eat?” I teased.

“Not gonna lie, I ate a bunch of empanadas while I was getting everything else. But make sure you leave room for this,” he said, tossing an electrolyte drink at me. “We stayed hydrated, but likely screwed up our electrolyte balance,” he explained.

I tore into the food, shoveling it all in so fast that it was a miracle I tasted anything.

While I ate, Wick showed me some of the other things he’d picked up: clothes—for both of us—, personal care items, shoes, after-sun cream, multivitamins, antibiotic cream for all remaining scrapes, and beef jerky.

At the last one, my brows pinched.

“We need protein. Fun food is great, but we need protein after all that. We feel alright now. But that’s mostly relief. The effects of… all that are going to settle in eventually.”

He wasn’t wrong about that.

After the food, vitamins, rehydration, lotion, and a little first aid, then rolling around in the sheets and falling asleep in each other’s arms, I woke up feeling downright… awful.

It was amazing how the human body could just… distract you from all your aches and pains to keep you going in a survival situation. But once my nervous system knew I was safe, it all settled in, amplified.

Just turning over seemed to sap all of my strength. I hurt in places I didn’t knowcouldhurt. I felt all-over cold. My head screamed.

It was like the flu.

Dialed up to a hundred.

And, well, I had a history of being an epically bad sick person.

Poor Wick, likely suffering himself, had to deal with a whiny, grumbling, achy, miserable me for three days in that hotel room.

“Feeling a little better?” Wick asked when I came out of the bathroom after a shower.

“Thank God, yeah.”

“I was starting to worry I needed to take you to the doctor. Was having all sorts of concerns about that waterfall bath and the claims on the filter system.”

“I think my body was just… readjusting to not being in survival mode. Thanks for not cutting and running. I know I’m a terrible sick person.”

“You did throw a bottle of electrolytes at my head,” he said, touching his mark-free temple.

“You were practically waterboarding me with those things,” I said, walking up to where he was sitting off the edge of the bed.

I reached out, touching the side of his head, finding the goose egg had gone all the way down.

“They’re probably what helped you finally shake all that,” he told me, his hands going to my hips, pulling me between his legs. “I’ve been talking to your father.”

“Wait… what?”

“Your phone kept ringing. But you were practically catatonic. I didn’t want them to worry any more than necessary, so I answered.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks.”

“Adler is a fucking cool guy,” Wick said, shaking his head in wonder. And, yeah, my father did have that effect on a lot of people. If it wasn’t his strange, hard-to-pin-down accent, it was his years traveling the world, followed by decades working as a gun-running outlaw biker.

“Yeah, he is.”

“He’s also crazy connected. He… got me everything I could possibly need to prove my innocence. And also got some attorney named Rosie to work on my case, since my lawyer had been all but useless.”

---