Reckless (Thoughtless, #3)(28)

He buckled me in with a smirk on his face. “Don’t worry about it right now. I’ll get it later. What matters is getting you home safe.”

He closed my door then walked around the back to the driver’s side. Again, grief washed through me. Why was he so nice to me? I’d done horrible, horrible things to him. I was a horrible, horrible person. Did he really feel so strongly for me that he could look past all of my flaws . . . and still love me?

As he sat down beside me, I immediately asked him just that. “Are you still in love with me? Is that why you’re taking care of me?”

Denny’s fingers paused on the way to the ignition. He looked over at me, blankness in his eyes. “I don’t know how to answer that, Kiera. And I really don’t think I should right now.” He shook his head and started the car.

I put my hand on his arm, not understanding. “Why?” My world started to tilt, and I exhaled in a long, slow breath.

Denny’s eyes studied me for a second before he backed the muscle car out if its space. “Because you’re wasted, and I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

Removing my hand, I ran it back through my hair, undoing my hasty ponytail. “I have no ideas . . .” I murmured, closing my eyes.

I heard Denny sigh, and thought I heard him say, “Yeah, I know you don’t.”

Denny called Abby on the drive home. His face lit up as he talked to her. From the half of the conversation that I could hear, she didn’t seem worried about Denny being with me. He told her that I’d had too much at the bar and he was taking me home. I wasn’t sure what her reply was, but he laughed, and his eyes were clear and untroubled. Even though I was starting to feel a little queasy, seeing him happy made me happy.

The longer I sat still, the worse I felt. By the time Denny stopped the car, my stomach was churning. Feeling flushed and disgusting, I whimpered and leaned my head against the window. Denny shot me a concerned glance. “You okay?”

I shook my head and slapped my hand over my mouth. No, I was definitely not okay. Denny cursed and quickly exited the car. He sprinted back for me and helped me get out and stand up. My stomach lurched when I moved. “Denny,” I murmured, “I don’t feel good.”

I stumbled and Denny swooped me into his arms. I clamped my mouth shut, begging for the nausea to stop. It didn’t, though. Instead, it got stronger and stronger. Denny hurried us to the house, telling me, “I know you don’t, Kiera. It will be okay, just hold on.” Tears were leaking from my eyes as he squatted down to unlock the door—I really hated being sick.

Closing the front door with his foot, Denny rushed us upstairs. He set me down in the bathroom right as I lost control. Sinking to my knees, I noisily lost my stomach into the toilet. Denny sighed and patted my back. He removed my bag from my shoulder while I heaved a couple more times. As I laid my head on the seat, I could hear him moistening a towel. He handed it to me and I gratefully wiped my mouth with the warm cloth. “Thanks,” I murmured, then I threw up again.

I felt like I was sick for hours. It never seemed to end. I was a sniffling, blubbering mess, but Denny stayed by my side. When there was nothing left in my stomach, I lay down on the cool bathroom tiles. They felt wonderful. As I closed my eyes, Denny whispered, “Kiera?”

I was so tired, I couldn’t respond.

He let out a long, slow exhale as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I wanted to open my eyes to see his expression, but my eyelids felt like lead. I felt Denny’s strong arms scooping me up again, then he slowly walked me into Kellan’s and my bedroom and laid me on the bed. After he removed my shoes and socks, I buried myself into the covers; nothing had ever felt so incredible in all my life.

Denny leaned over me, tucking me in, then he hesitated; I could feel his presence above me. I again tried to open my eyes, but it was like they were glued shut. After another pause, I felt his lips lower to my hair. The tender gesture made me smile. He pulled away and I felt like he was going to leave me. I weakly reached out and grabbed his hand. I didn’t want him to go. I didn’t want to be alone like this.

“Stay,” I croaked out. “Please.”

Denny sighed again. “Yeah, I’ll have to call Abby and let her know, but it’s fine. I’ll stay here if you need me to. I’ll be in the next room if you need anything.”

I nodded and released his hand. I could feel sleep creeping up on me, but Denny was still hovering, so I tried to push the feeling back. He watched me in silence for a long time, then he whispered, “I don’t know what I feel for you, Kiera . . . other than . . . I care about you. I care if you’re happy. I care if you’re sad. I care if you’re safe. And if that’s love . . . then, yes, I guess I love you. I love you, but I’m not in love with you. . . . Does that make sense?”

It took a great deal of effort, but I twisted around and opened my eyes. He was giving me a soft smile . . . all three of him. I shut my eyes and nodded. It did make sense, even to my fuzzy brain. I loved him too, I just wasn’t in love with him. He wasn’t my heart and soul. He didn’t consume every part of me. He wasn’t Kellan.

Denny patted my leg, then left me. Just as sleep started claiming me, my phone rang. My bag was still in the bathroom, and I heard Denny stop and dig through it. Seconds later, he said, “Uh, Kiera . . . it’s Kellan. Should I answer this?”