Crash (Brazen Bulls MC #1)(70)

But when she focused, he smiled. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi?” Willa tried to understand why she felt so f*cking bad, and why she was surprised to be in her bed with Rad sitting there, but her brain was too busy baking inside her skull to make coherent thoughts. “I don’t…what?” Her words were soundless, stuck in the muck of her throat.

“You need to get some water and aspirin in you. Can you sit up?”

She tried to push up on her arms, but the second her head left the pillow, a spike drove into the back of her head, and she gave it up. “What the hell?”

Rad stood, rocking the bed again, and slid his arm under her shoulders. He propped her up—ow!—and put a cool glass to her lips. Icy water touched her lips—oh, her mouth hurt, too. A lot.

But the water was the best idea anyone had ever had. A brilliant idea. A Nobel-prize-winning idea, and she grabbed the glass in both hands and drank until he pried it from her grip.

For a moment, she felt bitter at the loss. She would have scowled at Rad for depriving her, but it hurt too much to make a face.

Then the water churned into acid and came right back up. Rad stuck the plastic wastebasket from the bathroom under her chin, and she heaved into it. It felt like her stomach was being dragged up through her esophagus with a garden claw. When she was done, Rad wiped her mouth and set the wastebasket away.

God, she had never been so sick before.

“Try again. Slower.” He held the glass for her. She was rescinding his Nobel nomination. But she sipped at it this time, and the cool felt good against her ragged throat and sore lips. Why was she sore?

After a few sips, her need for water had ceded ground to her need to stop holding up her head, and she pushed the glass away. Rad laid her back on the pillows and set the glass down.

“We’ll try aspirin later. How about this? Close your eyes.”

She did, and felt the cool, damp weight of a washcloth over her forehead and eyes. It felt so incredibly good—just enough weight, just enough wet, just enough cool—that she sighed.

He chuckled and laid the lightest of kisses on her lips—so light, she felt his beard more than his mouth. “Good. Relax. Get some more rest. You’re gonna be okay.”

“What’s wrong with me?” she asked, already feeling sleep coming on, despite the many demanding pains racking her body.

He didn’t answer right away. Willa felt his fingers comb gently through her hair. “Sleep, Wills. We’ll talk later.”



oOo



DRINK! DRINK! DRINK THE BEER! DRINK!

Willa sat up with a screech and slammed her hands over her mouth. Her gorge rose, and she lunged over the side of the bed and grabbed the wastebasket, dry-heaving until her body stopped spasming.

Rad swung around the doorway into the room. “I’m here, I’m here.”

Ollie was there, too, nosing at her leg and whining. She reached a weak arm out and patted his head. He squirmed under her touch until he could lick her hand.

The lamp on her dresser was on—the old-fashioned, milk-glass one that she’d had since she could remember. It had been a great-aunt’s or something. It was the only light in the room, and the sun had set, so everything around Willa was dim and soft.

In contrast to the dream she’d just clawed her way out of. She put her hands over her face again.

Rad sat on the side of the bed and took one of her hands from her face and held it. It had been his customary position all day, between long bouts of deep sleep: making her drink, helping her get aspirin down, urging her to take some toast.

Her mind had continued to offer her nothing but a blank void—some strange kind of amnesia where she knew everything around her, knew Rad, knew Ollie, saw everything as it was supposed to be, but she had no clue why she was sick and sore, or why she felt as if she’d lost time. Days of it—but she couldn’t place the last thing she remembered. It was like she’d woken in an alternate universe, where her life was the same, except for some missing thing, unknown but crucial.

Every time she’d asked Rad what had happened, how she’d gotten so sick and why she couldn’t remember, he’d said they’d talk when she felt better.

Well, she felt better.

The dream she’d had—the nightmare—was starting to break up and fade out, and Willa was suddenly consumed by the notion that it could not. As horrible as it had been—what had it been?—she had to keep it.

She closed her eyes and grabbed what was left. When she had the broken pieces, she made the picture she could of them.

“Shit, oh shit. Jesse.” She opened her eyes and clutched Rad’s hand. “Jesse’s here.” Coming on the same train as that thought was a critical physical awareness. “I have to pee.”

Rad’s expression shifted abruptly from the creased frown he’d worn all day to an open laugh. “Good. I was startin’ to worry about that. Let’s deal with the second first. Then, if you’re up to it, we’ll talk.” He stood and held out his hand.

Willa was clear enough now to understand that Rad knew what was missing.

“I can deal with my own pee.” Tossing the covers back, she turned her legs to the side of the bed. When she stood, the room whirled like a carnival ride, and Rad grabbed her to hold her up.

“You need me, baby. Best you come to terms with that.”