Page 92 of Wine & Whiskey
13
Chapter Thirteen
Max holdsthe door open for her as they carry bags of take out into the kitchen. “Thank…”
Nick paces back and forth, driving his hand through his hair. Her stomach drops at his ashen skin and glassy eyes rimmed with dark circles. With trembling hands, he reaches for the counter to steady himself, his unfocused gaze skimming over Max to her. “Where the fuck have you two been?”
Pea pods and water chestnuts splay across the counter, tumbling out of their cartons at the force of Nick ripping the bags from Shae’s hands. A cold chill flushes her body at the hysteria surging in his groggy gaze. He smashes her against him, her dress stretching taut across her body from him fisting the fabric, engulfing her in his embrace.
“I thought you were dead.” The other hand slides around the nape of her neck, gripping her hair as he murmurs against her ear, his voice raspy and weak. “You wouldn’t open your eyes. I tried everything, but you wouldn’t wake up.”
She clutches him tightly, trying to soothe both of their worries and make sense of the whirlwind of anger and fear spinning around him. With her heart pounding, she strokes his back, her hand gliding across his cold, clammy skin. “It must have been a dream. I’m fine. I promise.”
“Then, I couldn’t find you. I thought you were gone.”
“I was just helping Max carry in the food.”
“You’re here.” Trembling hands cup her face, his forehead pressing against hers. Relief slackens his expression, and his eyes drift shut before he lurches forward. Unable to support the dead weight, she stumbles backward, her hip slamming against the island.
Max grips Nick’s shoulders and pushes him down onto one of the bar stools. He peers into Nick’s face, trying to force eye contact with him. “Fuck, Nick. You almost crushed her. Are you okay?”
Nick’s head bobs as he reaches for her, his hand wrapping around her waist. “I’m sorry, sweetness.” He squeezes the top of his head before rubbing down his forehead and over his eyes. “My head is killing me. I think I just need some sleep.”
“You’ve been asleep all day. It’s almost five o’clock.”
“At night?” Shock tinges his voice, deep lines crinkling his forehead, matching her own anxiety.
She caresses his cheek. “Why don’t you eat something? Maybe you’ll feel better.”
Nick frowns as he squints at the shrimp glaze smeared across the bubbled glass. “What is this?”
Max taps one of the white boxes, before setting it upright on the counter. “It’s from that dumpy place you like on Morgan. They have the best dim sum in LA.”
The decorative bowls filled with fresh fruit rattle from Nick’s fist slamming on the counter. “What the hell were you thinking, taking her there? You know how fucking dangerous that area is.”
“I went and got the food, and she met me in the garage.” Max meets her eye, frowning as he ignores the angry outburst, his tone even and restrained. “Shae just told you she was helping me bring it in.”
She reaches out and lays her hand on top of Nicks. “I was worried about you and didn’t want to leave you here alone. You looked like you didn’t feel well even when you were sleeping.”
“Where’s Marta?”
“It’s Sunday. Her day off, remember?”
“Okay.” Nick nods, yet uncertainty darkens his face. He looks from Max to her, seemingly unable to grasp what they tell him. “I’m not really hungry. I’ll see you upstairs.”
His hand runs along the wall, supporting him as he walks out of the kitchen and up the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing. This is more than tired. Even with their late night, he shouldn’t be this weak and confused, fighting such harsh pain in his head.
She turns to Max, whose frown deepens as he shakes his head. “What’s going on? Have you ever seen him like this before?”
“No, never.” He blows out a long breath, making her shiver at his doubt. “Maybe it’s a migraine.”
A seed of guilt takes root in her mind. Maybe it’s her.
The danger from Juan and Spencer has been frightening, but straightforward. At least they knew what they were dealing with. Now an unknown enemy affects his physical and mental well-being, possibly posing an even greater threat. Perhaps the strain of keeping her safe pushes him too far. “I’m going to go check on him, and then I’ll come back and help you clean up.”
He waves her away, stacking the boxes in the refrigerator. “Nah, it’s fine. I can do it. Go make sure he’s okay.”
“Thanks, Max.”
