Page 49 of We Can Stay
Another wave of nausea hits, and I lie on my side on the seat, waiting for it to pass and trying not to feel sorry for myself. Picking up my phone, I reread the draft of the text to Hannah.
And then delete it and settle for this instead:
Thinking of you too. Hope you’re doing well.
Blowing out a breath that makes my lips vibrate, I put the phone away. That’s good. That was the best response. I’m sure of it.
The car door opens, and Sebastian hops into his seat. “Here you go.” He hands me a filled hot water bottle, heated up. “And I got you ginger ale with real ginger and some crackers.”
I stare at him. “They had a hot water bottle?”
“It’s a country store.” He grins. “They kind of have everything.”
I accept the hot water bottle, a flurry of emotions taking over. He didn’t even wait for me to ask for help; he just acted. Right away. Without any hesitation.
“Thank you.” My voice cracks.
Sebastian’s gaze holds mine. “Of course,” he says softly.
He cups my cheek, a sweetness passing across the touch. “Need anything else?”
“No. This is perfect.” I crack open the ginger ale and take a careful sip.
“Try to rest.” Taking a jacket from the back seat, he drapes it over me. “If you can, with the cat meowing.”
“He’ll quiet down once we’re driving.” I start to laugh, but the nausea stops me in my tracks.
Sebastian pulls back onto the road, and the steady purr of the engine combined with the fresh air coming through the cracked window soothes my senses. Resting on my side with my hands tucked under my cheek, I let my eyes close, knowing that everything is all right. I’m safe. I’m perfectly fine.
I’m exactly where I need to be.
Sleep doesn’t come easy, though. The nausea gets worse with each mile we cover, and a couple times, I almost tell Sebastian to pull over so I can vomit. I manage to keep it together, but by the time we’re parking in front of my condo, I just want to curl up into a tiny ball.
Sebastian walks next to me, holding out his hand. “Do you need help walking?” he asks.
Through the discomfort, I somehow work up a grateful smile. “No, thank you.”
He opens the door. “What can I set up for you?”
“Uh...” I lean against the doorframe.
For some reason, I feel uncomfortable asking him to do anything else. Maybe because I’m so used to taking care of myself that having someone else step in makes me feel vulnerable. It reminds me that I’m not doing as well as I try to convince myself I am.
“Flick?” His eyebrows knit in concern. “Go lie down. I’ll take care of anything you need.”
I bite my lip, wanting to tell him no, it’s fine. He can leave now, and I’ll talk to him later. The very thought of doing all thewalking it takes in order to get myself set up is enough to make me cry, though.
“You could make me some ginger tea,” I say, though I’m not sure that will be of any help in this situation. “And feed Cat.”
“Are you having a flare?”
I avoid his eyes. “No, it’s just...the nausea.”
“Okay. You go get settled.” He closes the door behind me, and I begin the arduous journey to my bedroom.
Tears pricking my eyes, I take off my shoes and ease myself into bed. Sebastian’s kindness on the drive over here was perfect, but now that I’m home, it feels overwhelming. I just want to hide in my little cave until I feel good enough to reemerge.
He enters the bedroom, arms full of supplies. Ice pack, tea, water bottle, and ginger ale. “I thought I’d bring you every drink possible.” He grins, trying to make light of the situation.
