Page 23 of What About Us
He’s joking, but I also know there is truth to his words. For all his sarcastic bullshit, he worries about me. He always has. It’s one of the things I love most about him. He’s always taking care of me or making sure I’m taking care of myself. It means a lot to me, especially now that my mama’s gone. He’s all I have.
“I’m not dying.” And for levity, I add, “Besides, I’d just come back and haunt your ass. You can’t get rid of methateasily.”
He huffs out a chuckle and I nudge him with my knee. “Sorry I woke you, Huddy. I’m ok.”
He nods. He really is the best, but I can take care of myself.
He leans over to feel my forehead and I roll my eyes with a small smile, which falters slightly when his skin touches mine. “Promise me you’ll be more careful,” he says.
I nod. “I’ll try.”
For now, he seems appeased, and I do try. I will. If he’s this concerned over wine, I can’t imagine how he’d feel about my whole insulin situation. He would shit a brick, and then offer to pay for it. I know he means well, and that he can afford it, but that’s not the point.
“I’m ok,” I say with a playful shove to his bicep. That simple touch almost has me asking him to stay; to get into bed with me and keep me company. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve shared a bed, but it’s been years. I didn’t know how much having him here would comfort me, but I’ve been telling him for literal years that I can take care of myself. And I absolutely can.
“I really have to pee.” I shoo him out with a hand and say, “I’m fine,Dad.” His lips tip up at my joke.
When he stands, his eyes snag on my nightstand. “What’s with all that?” he asks, nodding toward the small sharps container.
I glance over and shrug. “Just old stuff,” I say and hope it’s dark enough in the room that he can’t detect the lie on my face. Damn twitchy eyebrow.
He nods as something flits across his expression that I can’t place.
I throw the covers back and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, but when I stand up, I’m so dizzy that I plop right back down on the bed with a little laugh. Hudson reaches out to steady me.
“You want some help?” he asks and reaches for my hand.
I nod and let him help me up. I glance down. “Sorry about the underwear,” I say with a cringe. I’m suddenly very aware that I’m wearingmy laciest panties that are definitely mostly see-through and a threadbare, ribbed tank top that’s seen better days. “Instead of seeing your dad in his boxers, you get to see your best friend in her drawers.”
He laughs. “So not the same thing, Jameson.”
“True, but still,” I say, and he follows me to the bathroom with his hand on my elbow in case I get dizzy again.
“You need me to come in with you?”
“No, it’s ok. I think I’m good now.”
“I’ll wait out here just in case you get a dizzy spell again.”
“Thanks, Huddy.” I go inside and shut the door.
When I open the door and come back out, he’s on the other side, leaning against the dresser, with hands braced behind him. It makes the curve of his pecs more pronounced, and I’m glad it’s dark in here, becausedamn. I’m totally checking him out.
“You doing ok?” he asks.
“Yeah, just lightheaded, but it’s getting better.”
He nods. “All right. Let’s get you back into bed.”
We shuffle back across the room, and he straightens out my blankets for me. I climb in on my knees and turn around, settling in. When he turns to go, I reach out and grab his hand.
“Will you stay?” It’s probably not the best idea, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t keep myself from asking. Now that he’s here, I don’t want him to go.
He considers it for a minute. He’s probably about to give me a lecture about needing to sleep instead of sitting up all night talking to him, which is what normally happens.
“Just for a bit?” I give him my sweetest, most manipulative best friend smile.
He chuckles and lifts his chin. “Shove over.”
