Page 23 of Coming Unraveled
“Open the door, Everleigh,” Brooks shouts as he knocks on the door a third time.
He listens closely but doesn’t hear any movement on the other side. Annoyed, he drops the bag on the porch and makes his way to the back of the house where there is another entrance as well as a few low-lying windows he may be able to jimmy open. Luckily, he doesn’t need to do any of those things as he finds an open window leading to the downstairs bathroom.
Jackpot.
He hefts himself through the window, trying to make as little noise as possible because he knows her. If she so much as suspects him to be an intruder she will shoot his brains out. Of course, she may do it anyway when she sees him in her house.
He steps out of the bathroom and looks down the hall, and realizing that the coast is clear, steps towards the front door and opens it to retrieve the bag he left waiting.
With the chicken broth and crackers in hand, Brooks moves back towards the kitchen and finds a pan to heat up something she may be able to keep down when she is feeling better. While he waits for it to warm he goes in search of her.
Taking the steps two at a time he comes to stand in front of the master bedroom. The door creaks as he pushes it open but he doesn’t find her resting on the bed, but the smell of sickness permeates his nose, making his stomach roll.
Brooks starts to think that maybe she isn’t home as no noise comes from the room until he begins to turn around and a noise coming from around the corner hums in his ear. Stepping towards the bathroom he takes in the dark space and flicks on the light where a groan sounds down at his feet.
His heart breaks at the vision before him. She lies on the cool tile floor, her head resting on one extended arm where the other rests tightly against her stomach.
“Oh, baby,” he whispers just as she groans once more before pitching forward, grasping the sides of the toilet, and emptying out her barren stomach.
His hand reaches out and rubs her back as she crouches over the throne. Her heaves lessen after a minute and she turns her gaze towards him.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to take care of you, beautiful.”
She chuckles once before groaning as her stomach protests, but fortunately, the contents stay put.
“I feel anything but beautiful today.”
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you that beauty is in the eye of the beholder?”
“Well, you must be blind, so…” she jokes before resting her head back on her arm.
“Do you think you’re going to be sick again?”
She shakes her head and then Brooks stands. Crouching beside her he stuffs his hand beneath her knees and the other around her back, lifting her into his arms.
“What are you doing? You need to leave. I don’t want to get you sick.”
As he gently places her on the bed she laughs at her claim.
“Sweetheart, I’m a doctor. I don’t get sick. I’ve been exposed to almost everything at this point.”
The corner of his lips hurt as his smile widens and she grunts and closes her eyes, turning her body onto its side and curling into a ball.
Grabbing the trashcan from the bathroom he places it beside her bed in case she gets sick again.
“I’m here to take care of you. When you’re up for it I brought some broth to settle your stomach,” he explains as he strokes the back of his hand down her cheek.
“Brooks?” she whispers, cracking her eyes open a smidgen, so he can barely make out the color of her irises.
“Yeah?”
“You came to take care of me, even though I’m a bitch to you.”
“You’re not a bitch. And of course, I did. I want to take care of you all of the time. Besides, if you don’t get better who is going to be angry at me twenty-four seven?”
Everleigh giggles again as she snuggles further into her pillows.
