Page 117 of When It's Us
I choke on my saliva. I cough, pounding my chest with a fist. I swallow hard while Tate waits, eyebrows raised.
When I don’t answer, he presses. “So, do you?”
“Tate, Jordan?” Ginger’s voice carries from the living room, and thank fuck, I’m saved.
Sure, I could have told them no. But that doesn’t feel right. Ginger isn’t my girlfriend, but she’s definitely… something.
“In here, Mom!” Jordan calls out, louder than necessary, but one hundred percent boy.
“You guys finish up, okay?” I tell them, standing.
They nod, and I head into the living room to see if there’s anything Ginger needs.
Ginger
“Hutch?”Iblinkupat him from the couch, my mouth dry.
He pushes the couple of things littering the coffee table to the side and sits down, knees splayed wide.
When I try to sit up, I feel nauseous, so I think better of it and settle back onto the couch on my side.
“Just stay down,” he says softly, brushing the curls that have come loose from my bun and lay across my cheek.
I nod and swallow, letting my eyes close for a couple of seconds. I hate that this is the second time he’s seen me close to losing my proverbial lunch.
The gentle way he touches my face makes my heart rate speed up. I want to lean into it, into him, but I don’t know how to ask for that without sounding pathetic. I don’t know how to be soft without being afraid of what it might cost me later.
At least this time isn’t because I drank myself stupid and drunk-texted him. I can hear the boys chattering in the kitchen, so I relax, knowing they’re okay. I only closed my eyes for a few minutes and hadn’t meant to fall asleep.
“What are you doing here?” I ask when I can finally open my eyes against the pain and nausea.
He presses the backs of his fingers to my forehead, his blue eyes squinted in concern. “I called to see if you guys wanted to maybe grab some ice cream or something, but Jordan told me you weren’t feeling well.”
“So you came all the way over here?”
He shrugs easily and it’s so Hutch. “The boys hadn’t eaten dinner, so I brought them food.” He says, tucking that same lock of hair behind my ear. “Are you hungry? I brought you fries and a milkshake.”
“You just want to feed me again,” I tease.
The smirk that tilts his lips up makes my belly flutter, and I let out a light laugh, only to wince against the pounding in my head.
His face creases with concern and he braces his elbows on his knees. “I brought you some pain meds and an ice pack if you think any of those will help?”
“And Gatorade,” Tate says from somewhere behind the couch. “It’s for your headache because the electricals take away the pain.”
“The electricals?” I ask, in confusion as Tate comes into view and Hutch chuckles.
“I was telling the boys how sometimes when you get a headache, it can be from an electrolyte imbalance.”
“Yeah, and the Gatorade helps it when you have to hike,” Tate finishes, and Hutch bites back a smile.
“Thank you, baby. I understand now,” I say, running a hand over Tate’s hair now that he’s stepped closer to the couch.
“Hutch brought us burgers and fries and chocolate milkshakes.”
My eyes flicker to his and he gives me a half smile. I look back at Tate. “That was very nice of him, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he says, scratching his nose with two fingers. “Can I go outside?”
