by Sarah Curtis
“Gotta go. We’re about to take off. I’ll call you tomorrow night and let you know about Tuesday.”
“Okay. Have a safe flight,” But she said it into dead air. Colt had already hung up.
She tossed her phone down on the bed and closed her eyes. She hadn’t seen Colt for almost a week and with the way their call had ended, she wasn’t sure she’d be seeing him that week either. Before the season started, they would spend days just hanging out. Watching TV. Relaxing by the pool. Any free time Colt had, he spent with her. And, silly her, she’d grown used to that, so now she really felt their time apart.
Maybe she needed to get out more, be more social. Sitting at home made time move too slow. She’d had fun chatting with Emerson at the game last Sunday. She should give her a call, see if she wanted to go to a movie or something.
In the meantime, she picked up her e-reader and turned it back on.
If she couldn’t have Colt, Harry Dresden was a good second choice.
“We should have done this ages ago. It feels like forever since I’ve had any time off.” Emerson took a sip of her margarita before reaching for a handful of nuts and popping a few into her mouth.
Ivy had followed through and called Emerson. After comparing their schedules, Thursday night had been the soonest they could get together for drinks. Ivy was excited to wear something other than jeans or leggings and even took the time to put on makeup for the first time in over a week.
“Running your own business is more than a full-time job.” Ivy took a sip of her apple martini, wincing as her jaw puckered.
“How is business?”
“I landed the Yum Yum Yogurt account, thanks to you.” Ivy held her glass up and Emerson clicked hers to it. “And just yesterday I got a call from a local bakery. I have a meeting with them tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, I hope they give you some samples.” Emerson dramatically sighed. “And now I want a cupcake.”
Ivy laughed. “I’ll swing by The Parting Glass after my meeting tomorrow and bring you one.”
“Deal.”
After a few second’s silence, Ivy finally worked up the nerve to ask, “So, have you, um, seen much of Oz lately?”
If Emerson was bothered by the personal question, she didn’t show it. “Most days. He comes in after practice. Not sure how that man’s not eight-hundred pounds with the number of burgers he puts away.”
“I’m sure he burns off a ton of calories every day.”
Emerson took another sip of her drink then said, “True. And it helps he’s not exactly a small guy to begin with.”
Ivy chuckled. “That’s also true.”
Emerson put her glass down, leaned into the table, and lowered her voice. “I will admit, all those muscles are hot.”
“Right?” Ivy held her glass aloft again and laughing, Emerson tapped it with hers.
Emerson frowned in thought. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason.”
“Ivy,” she drew her name out. A clear sign she wasn’t buying her BS answer.
Ivy shrugged. “I just haven’t seen Colt a whole lot lately and wondered if you were having the same problem with Oz.”
A look of concern crossed Emerson’s features before she concealed it with a smile. “I’m sure if I didn’t have food to tempt Oz with, I wouldn’t see him half as much either.”
“Thanks for trying to make me feel better, but you and I both know it’s more than just your hamburgers Oz is interested in.”
Emerson nodded. “Yeah, I have great fries, too.”
Ivy quickly covered her mouth and managed to swallow the sip she’d just taken before spitting it all over the table. Still chuckling, she asked, “So are you saying the old wives’ tale is true—the fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?”
“Not sure about all men, but it seems to be working with Oz.”
“Well, I’m happy for you.”
Emerson reached across the table and squeezed Ivy’s hand. “Colt has an important role on the team. I’m sure once he settles into the season, he’ll have more time.”
Ivy took a sip of her drink to mask the fact she felt like a laserbrain for bringing the subject up in the first place and ruining the fun vibe. She was acting like a jilted girlfriend when, in fact, she had no authority over how Colt spent his time.
Shaking off her morose mood, Ivy raised her glass. “Anyway, who says we need a man to have a good time. I’m having a blast, and what do you know, not a one is in sight.” She took the last swig of her martini and set the glass back down.
Emerson looked around the room. “Well, I see plenty in sight but that you don’t is telling.”
Yeah, but what was it telling her?
Chapter Fourteen
Colt
Colt watched his offensive line get into formation on their forty-yard line. They were down by six with fifteen seconds left on the clock. They needed to score now if they wanted to win the game.
He signaled to Linc. He knew the play. Get his ass into the endzone and get ready to make a catch—if Colt could keep himself free of the other team’s defense long enough to make the Hail Mary pass.
He lined up behind the center and shouted his cadence. When he said the last hut, the center snapped the ball. Colt never took his eyes off it as it sailed through the air and into his hands, but in his periphery, he saw the defense charge. His offense blocked as Colt did some fancy footwork to buy time for Linc to get into position.
Almost there.
In about another two seconds, he could let the ball fly.
Hauling his arm back, he put all his power behind the throw and watched it sail. It arced high into the sky.
Soaring.
Soaring.
And then landed right into Linc’s waiting hands.
Perfect throw. Perfect catch. The crowd went wild.
Damn, that felt good.
Still on a high from their latest win, Colt pulled his phone from the locker and called Ivy. It rang four times then went to voicemail. She was probably driving home. He knew she liked to watch their away games with Emerson at her pub. He showered and changed, collected his bag, and got on the bus. He tried Ivy again with the same result. And then again at the airport.
He was starting to worry.
Looking for Oz, he saw him sitting with Linc and made his way over.
“Hey, the man of the hour.” Linc stood and clapped Colt on the back.
“I just threw the ball. You’re the one who caught it for the touchdown.”
“Fine. We’ll share the glory.” Linc’s grin was bright enough to light a night sky.
Moving on to the more pressing issue, Colt asked Oz, “Can you call Emerson? Find out when she last saw Ivy.”
Oz pulled out his phone. “Sure. What’s going on?”
“I’ve been trying to reach her for the last hour, but she’s not answering.”
Oz already had the phone to his ear. He held up a finger. “Hey, Colt’s been trying to get a hold of Ivy. Have you talked to her lately?”
Colt waited for what felt like an eternity while Oz listened to what Emerson said.
“Okay, I’ll let him know. Call you when we land.” Oz hung up. “She said she’s probably sleeping. She talked to her earlier when Ivy called to let her know she wouldn’t be coming to watch the game. Said she wasn’t feeling well.”
“Ivy’s sick?” Colt had talked to her that morning and she hadn’t said anything.
“That’s what Emerson said.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Colt hesitated to call one last time before their flight took off. He didn’t want to wake her if she was resting, but he also needed to hear her voice to know she was okay.
His internal conflict ended up a moot point as she still didn’t answer.
Colt knocked on Ivy’s front door then tried to peer through the curtain covering the side window to check for movement. There was a light on downstairs. He’d played the afternoon game and with t
ravel time, he was hoping it was late enough for Jason to be home. He didn’t want to pull Ivy out of bed if he didn’t have to.
The deadbolt disengaged and the door opened. “Hey, man, good to see you. I about fell out of my chair when you made that sweet pass to win the game. The bar I was at, I swear, we set some kind of sound record. Surprised you didn’t hear us all the way in Dallas.”
“Thanks.” While he appreciated the guy’s enthusiasm, that wasn’t what he was there for. “I’m here to check on Ivy. I heard she’s sick, and she’s not answering her phone.”
Jason opened the door wider, and Colt stepped inside.
“I just got home a half hour ago. Didn’t know she was sick. I haven’t heard a peep from her, so she must be sleeping. Feel free to go up.”
Not wasting time, Colt made for the stairs and took them two at a time. His eyes zeroed in on the bed and while the covers were a mess, Ivy wasn’t in it. The only other place she could be was the bathroom. He turned his head to find her lying on the cold tile.
He rushed over, his long stride eating the distance in a few steps. His eyes fell to her chest and breathed easier seeing it rise and fall. He squatted, brushing a lock of hair off her cheek that had escaped from her bun. Her skin was pale with her lips a light shade of pink and not their usual red.
Her eyes fluttered open, a line forming between them. “What are you—” Her voice cracked and she tried again. “What are you doing here?”
“You weren’t answering your phone. I was worried. Emerson said you were sick.”
She struggled to sit up, and he helped her. “You called Emerson?”
“Well, Oz did. I don’t have her number.”
She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. “How was the game? Sorry I missed it.”
“Don’t worry about that now. Tell me what’s wrong.”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure, but I think it’s the stomach flu. Nausea. Really bad stomach pains.” She pried open one eye. “You probably shouldn’t be here. You can’t afford to get sick.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
She winced and bent her knees, hugging her legs to her chest.
He hated seeing her in pain. He was also at a loss on how to help. “Can I get you some water?”
She rolled her head back and forth along the wall. “Tried that. It just makes me throw up more.”
Colt pulled his phone out and typed stomach flu into the search engine. After skimming a few articles, he asked, “Have you tried anti-nausea meds?”
“No.”
“And I don’t suppose you have any in the house.”
She tried to give him a weak smile and failed. “No.”
“Okay. I’m going to run out and get some, but let’s move you to the bed first.”
“No, it’s too far if I get sick again. Besides, the cool tile helps.”
He placed a hand to her forehead. She did feel warm. “I hate leaving you here like this.” And he did. The last thing he wanted was to leave her lying on the bathroom floor.
“I’m okay. I really don’t want to move.”
She was dressed in only a t-shirt and panties, but he noticed her leggings discarded in the corner. “What about a blanket and pillow?”
Not making the effort to speak, she just shook her head again.
“I’ll be as quick as I can. Where’s your phone?”
Her eyes darted around the bathroom. “I don’t know.”
After a minute of searching, he found it in her purse that had been tossed on the floor by her closet. He woke it, seeing a slew of notices from his missed texts and calls, and checked the battery—still had half-life.
He took it into the bathroom, setting it on the floor beside her. “Call if you need anything while I’m gone. And Jason is downstairs. I’ll tell him to keep an ear open for you.”
She plopped her forehead to her knees as if her neck were too weak to hold her head up any longer. “Okay.” Her voice was muffled and faint, and he knew he had to hurry.
He was only gone twenty minutes, but it felt longer. So much longer. Thankfully, the drug store had what he needed. He’d also bought a couple bottles of Gatorade, a box of Saltine crackers, and a digital thermometer.
When he returned to the bathroom, she was in the same position he’d left her, not having moved a muscle. He set the bag down on the counter and reached inside, pulling out the bottle of anti-nausea liquid.
He got down to his haunches next to her and laid a hand on her back. “Ivy?” She tipped her head to the side, and he held out the bottle. “Here. Take a swig of this.”
“I can’t. Not right now.”
“It will make you feel better,” he coaxed. “Come on.” He nudged the bottle at her.
She sighed, taking the bottle and then a small sip.
“A little more.”
She took a larger swallow and handed the bottle back before resting her forehead on her knees again.
He capped the bottle, stood, and set it on the bathroom counter.
Less than a minute later, she moaned, “Oh, God. Get out.”
“What?”
She was panting. “Get out. Shut the door. I’m going to be sick.” She scrambled to the toilet, and he was at her side, placing a hand on her back. She looked over at him, unshed tears making her eyes shine. “Please. I don’t want you to watch.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Ivy.”
Her body spasmed and she lost the fight to not throw up. The red liquid he just had her consume came out but not much more than that. A few more violent dry heaves wracked her body before she collapsed, face resting on the seat of the toilet.
“I don’t like you seeing me like this.”
He tucked that stubborn lock of hair behind her ear again. “You’re sick.”
“It’s embarrassing.” Her eyes were closed, and he wasn’t sure if it was because she was so exhausted, or she was hiding from him.
“It’s only embarrassing if you let it be.”
“I’m using the toilet seat as a pillow. I’m not letting it be, it just is.” He chuckled and she said, “I guess it could’ve been worse.”
He brushed his finger along the shell of her ear. “How so?”
“You could’ve been around the first time I threw up. Now that was gross. I think I threw up something I ate last week.”
He smiled. “Seems like you’re feeling a little better.”
“It won’t last long. The cramping will start again. Especially if I stick something in my stomach.”
Colt winced. “It was supposed to make you feel better.”
“I know. And I appreciate you running out to get it. I’m sure it will help once the worst of this has passed.”
“Do you think you can try to get some rest while you’re feeling a little better? That’s probably the best thing for you.”
“Yeah. I feel like I could sleep for a week if the pain doesn’t come back.”
“Do you want to try the bed now?”
“No.” She scooted back from the toilet and lay down on the floor. “Right here is good.”
He wouldn’t argue with her. He’d already made a mess of the whole taking-care-of-Ivy business. He’d just be there for her if she needed him and let her do what she felt was best. He sat himself down, leaning his back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle.
“You don’t have to stay,” she mumbled, not bothering to open her eyes.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Then at least get in my bed. You’ve got to be sore after today’s game.”
He ignored that. “Go to sleep.”
She didn’t say anything else, her breathing evening as he watched over her.
Ivy
Ivy opened her eyes to a view of long, denim-clad legs. Her head was resting on Colt’s thighs, his hand on her shoulder. She rolled. Colt was asleep, back to the wall, head at a weird angle.
He
couldn’t be comfortable.
With no window in the bathroom, she had no idea what time it was, and with the day and night she’d had, she couldn’t even deduce it with her internal clock.
But she had been asleep long enough to feel marginally better. Her head wasn’t pounding, and her stomach wasn’t cramping. And best of all, she didn’t feel nauseous.
Slowly sitting up, she realized her body felt weak, but she was desperate to brush her teeth to get the awful taste out of her mouth. What she really needed was a shower but that would have to wait until she was feeling a bit stronger.
“Hey.”
She looked over to find Colt’s eyes open, assessing her.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better.” She used the toilet seat to stand, wobbling a bit.
“Let me help you.” Colt got to his feet.
“I’m okay. Just finding my sea legs.”
She took the few steps to the counter and leaned heavily against it. She looked awful. Hair a mess. Pale as a ghost, making the dark circles under her eyes stand out. But nothing that a shower and some sleep wouldn’t fix.
She flipped on the faucet. Colt was there, running her toothbrush under the water and applying toothpaste.
“Thanks,” she said when he handed it to her.
She scrubbed her teeth and tongue until the toothpaste turned so foamy, she looked like a rabid dog. But after rinsing, running her tongue over her slick teeth felt like heaven.
“I feel almost human again.”
“I bought some Gatorade. Do you think you can drink it?”
Ivy thought about that then nodded. “If I take small sips, I think so.”
“Good. Let’s get you into bed and I’ll get you a glass.”
Colt took hold of her arm and helped her into the bedroom. “What time is it?”
He pulled his phone from his pocket. “Four a.m.”
A few more hours of sleep were definitely on the agenda then.
Colt got her situated in bed, ran downstairs for a cup, and disappeared into the bathroom coming out with it filled with orange liquid.
“Thanks.” She took a small sip and grimaced.