I smiled against her hair. “I don’t think this qualifies as a bed.”
She huffed softly and moved again to get up. This time I didn’t try to stop her, but when her elbow accidently knocked the side of my head, I couldn’t hold back my groan of pain.
Beth sat up and looked down at me, her brow furrowed with concern. “Are you okay?”
I winced and put a hand over my eyes. “I’ll let you know as soon as my head stops threatening to explode.”
Her laugh was unexpected and the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. Less than a day ago, I’d been afraid I would never hear it again.
“That’s what you get for drinking yourself into a stupor,” she scolded. “Whatever possessed you to drink demon liquor?”
“It was Niall’s fault,” I moaned into my hands.
The details about how we’d ended up at Sal’s were cloudy, but I remembered Niall challenging me to a round of nobs, a demon drinking game. I hadn’t been thinking clearly, or I never would have accepted a challenge from an Irishman whose favorite pastime was drinking.
“Yes, I’m sure he forced it down your throat,” she said without an ounce of sympathy before she got up and strode into her bedroom.
I eyed the duffle bag on the other side of the coffee table, wondering how much it was going to hurt to stand up and walk over to it. With tremendous effort, I managed to sit up, only to sag back against the cushions as the room spun wildly. Sweat broke out on my brow, and I swallowed as my stomach began to revolt.
“Kill me now.”
I let my body fall back to a horizontal position, taking slow deep breaths to calm my churning stomach. I’d overindulged in murren once before, and I should have remembered that moving only makes the hangover worse.
“Here.”
I opened my eyes to see Beth standing over me, holding out a can of gunna paste. I took the can from her, but my hand was shaking so much I couldn’t open it.
Beth made a sound of exasperation and perched on the edge of the couch. She opened the can and scooped out a large amount of the green paste with two fingers.
“Open,” she ordered briskly. I did, and she placed the gunna paste on my tongue.
Before she could withdraw her fingers, I closed my mouth and sucked the last of the paste from them. The stuff tasted awful, but seeing her lips part and the flush in her cheeks was worth every bit.
She pulled her hand away, and I swallowed the paste like a good patient.
“Thanks,” I rasped.
“You look green. Are you going to throw up?”
I closed my eyes. “No. Just need to lie still until the gunna paste kicks in.”
“Okay.”
She stood, and I heard her set the can of paste on the coffee table before she went into the kitchen. Soon, the sounds and aroma of brewing coffee filled the room. In a few minutes, she was back, setting a mug on the coffee table near me.
“Drink that when you no longer feel like vomiting.”
“You’re an angel,” I said without opening my eyes.
There was no mistaking the amusement in her voice. “Just try not to puke. Murren smells bad enough on your breath. I do not want to know what it smells like coming back up.”
“I’ll do my best.”
I heard her sit in one of the arm chairs and take a sip from her own cup. She seemed content not to speak, so I didn’t either. It was enough to know she was in the same room with me. I was happy to lie there with her close by and let the gunna paste work its magic.
After about twenty minutes, the pounding in my head lessened and my stomach stopped threatening to erupt. Five minutes after that, I was able to lift my head off the couch without going into a tailspin. I eased myself into a reclined position and picked up my mug with a hand that still trembled slightly.
The coffee was cold, but I didn’t care because it felt so good to my parched throat. I drained the mug and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
“I needed that,” I said to Beth, who still sat in her chair. “Thanks.”
She came over and took the mug from me. “Feeling better?”
“Much.”
“Good.”
She turned away, but not before I saw her face take on a tender expression. She cared more than she wanted to let on. I didn’t know what had softened her toward me, but I’d take it.
She carried our mugs to the kitchen and rinsed them, returning with a bottle of water for me. When she started to move away, I took hold of her wrist in a loose grip.
“Sit with me.”
She arched an eyebrow but didn’t pull away. “You’re milking this sick patient thing.”
I started to make a joke and went with honesty instead. “My Mori needs to be close to you.” I caressed the back of her hand with my thumb. “I need to be close to you.”
She hesitated, and I watched the play of doubt and worry across her face. But those emotions were not as strong as the answering need I saw in her eyes.
I let out the breath I was holding when she sat on the edge of the couch and turned toward me. I released her wrist and took her hand, pleased when she didn’t object or pull away. The feel of her skin against mine did more to relieve my pain than anything else could.
“How have you been since…?” I trailed off, unsure of how to finish the question.
She looked down at our joined hands and whispered, “Fine,” which I knew meant she’d been anything but that.
“How about now?” I pressed softly.
Her teeth worried her lower lip. “A little better.”
I smiled at her quiet admission. I understood her reluctance to open up to me, and I knew I had to be patient and gentle with her, now more than ever.
“I’m feeling better, too, and not just because of the gunna paste.”
That got a little smile from her, and she lifted her gaze to mine. “You did look a dangerous shade of green.”
I nodded. “It was touch and go for a few minutes. Thanks for taking care of me today…and last night.”
She made a face. “I almost told Nikolas to leave you on the lawn.”
I laughed and then winced at the lingering pain in my head. I was never touching murren again.
“I’m sure I deserved it.”
“Probably, but I was afraid you’d end up drowning yourself in the pool.”
“So, you do like me,” I teased, earning an eye roll from her.
“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”
“Not until you admit it.”
She looked down again, going quiet for a long moment. I watched her bent head and hoped I hadn’t pushed her too soon to talk about her feelings. This was all new territory for me, and I didn’t want to mess it up. I’d never been one to go slow when it came to women, but then, I’d also never been in love with anyone until Beth.
“Today, I like you,” she said at last. “Tomorrow remains to be seen.”
I gave her hand a little squeeze. “Then I’ll have to do what I can to make sure you still like me tomorrow.”
She fell silent again. After a minute, I tugged on her hand to get her attention. “What’s wrong?”
Her eyes were troubled when she looked at me again. “I’m sorry I ran away. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“I know that.”
I let go of her hand and reached for her to pull her into my arms, but she resisted, shifting so she was facing away from me.
“I’m not ready to…”
“I understand.”
I was disappointed that she didn’t want me to hold her, but I wasn’t surprised after what had happened a few nights ago. It was enough for now that she was sitting here beside me.
“None of this is your fault. I’m the one who screwed up, and I should be begging you for forgiveness. Just tell me it’s not too late to make it right.”
“No… I mean it’s not too late,” she said in a rush.
My heart began to race, but I forced my voice to sound calm. “So, going home was good for you.”
“Talking to Rachel helped a lot. But then Sara asked me something yesterday.”
I could barely speak around the breath that was bottled up in my chest. “What did Sara say to you?”