Naked Love(44)

What if he dies? He can’t die. The one day he’s not awful, I poison him. Me and my stupid need to get revenge.

I don’t know what to say? Do I tell him why he’s vomiting? He’ll hate me. This morning I didn’t care if he hated me, now I kind of don’t want him to hate me—or die.

Easing out of the truck, I pat his back with a gentle hand. “Jake, are you okay?”

He expels one more round of smoothie—and my secret ingredient—before wiping his mouth. “No. I’m not okay.” The pasty white sheen of his skin worries me. It’s like his body has settled into the color it will be in his casket.

“Here.” I grab his water bottle from the truck.

“Thank you.” He takes it.

“No need to thank me.”

Awkward.

Jake rinses and spits, before drinking several long swigs. “Did the spinach feel slimy to you?”

Biting my lips together while cringing, I shake my head.

“It feels like food poisoning. What the hell did I eat that was bad?”

My eyebrows lift. “I-I don’t know.”

I poisoned you. I’m so incredibly sorry.

How do I fail at something as simple as revenge? He blew his disgusting wad onto my expensive T-shirt. He called me a princess, diva, and bitch. The list of reasons why he deserves to come close to dying is so long, I can’t even see the end of it with binoculars, but … when I’m not hating Jake, I kinda like him.

“We have to go. Get Swarley.”

“Go?”

“Just do it!” He walks around the truck, hunchbacked.

I get Swarley in the truck, and Jake fishtails back onto the main road.

“You’re um … going a bit fast.”

Eighty.

Eighty-five.

Ninety.

Holy shit! We’re burning down the road at ninety.

“Jake, I think you should slow down.”

With a permanent grimace, he shakes his head. Within minutes, we pull into a gas station. I’m not sure it’s even open or still in business. Jake nearly falls out as he opens the door then hightails it around the side of the building, buckled over and waddling like he has something stuck up his ass.

Swarley whines.

“Shh! I know. It was wrong.” I bite my chipped thumbnail, nose wrinkled. “Please don’t die,” I whisper.

Fifteen minutes later, Jake emerges from the side of the building, looking like a corpse.

“I’ll drive.” I hop out and hold open the door.

“I’ll drive,” he mumbles with a weak voice.

“No way. You can barely keep your eyes open. Food poisoning can be very serious. We can’t have you vomiting while driving, and we don’t really know that it’s poisoning … uh food poisoning, that is.”

On a shallow sigh, he nods and climbs into the passenger’s side.

“Let’s find the nearest hotel,” he says as I buckle into the driver’s seat.

Who knew all I had to do was poison him to get linens and an actual shower?

Terrible thoughts. Who celebrates poisoning someone?

“Okay.” I restrain my slight enthusiasm.

Jake falls asleep while I pass up the nearest hotel that I’m certain is the kind that only rents by the hour. When I find a chain name that I recognize, I park the truck and tap his arm. “We’re here.”

Peeling his eyes open, he grumbles. “Get a room. Any room.”

“Okay.” I wait, holding my purse. This isn’t how I wanted to confess my predicament, but given my phoneless status and credit-less situation, I have no choice. “I have less than five dollars to my name. Anthony’s brother is a banker and he’s managed to freeze all of my lines of credit, including my checking account and all credit cards.”

Jake doesn’t even respond with a look. Keeping his eyes closed, he tosses me his wallet.

“Oh …” I cringe. “I realize you’re more of a camper, but hotels require a photo I.D. and a credit card. My I.D. won’t match your credit card, and your credit card won’t match my I.D., so …”

He grumbles, pawing for the door handle. I jump out and run around the truck, opening the door for him. Draping his big arm around my shoulders, I help him into the lobby. After securing a room, I take him straight up to it and help him into bed. Before I can get his shoes off, he dashes to the bathroom.

“I’ll just … get Swarley and our bags. Okay?”

A disgusting noise sounds from behind the bathroom door. I’m not sure which end is releasing the toxins, and I don’t want to know.

Jake spends the rest of the day in the bathroom, refusing to let me in except to hand him water, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and a bag that has activated charcoal. He’s such a Boy Scout, always prepared to be poisoned with mushrooms.

Gulp!

“Hey.” I jump out of bed, muting the TV. “Are you feeling better? What can I get you? I ordered room service.” I point to a tray of food. Most of it’s gone because … two bananas.

Taking a deep breath, he shakes his head. “No food.” Collapsing onto the other bed, he rests his arm over his forehead. “I’m empty. Nothing else can come out of this body.”

“You’re going to live, right?”