“I can do that.”
“Good. Do you know what I think now?”
“What?”
“That you should get over here and kiss me. It’s been a long week, and during that long week the only person I’ve wanted to kiss or have flash me has done neither.” Marc grabs my hand and pulls me to come straddle his lap.
“Has something else happened?” I ask. There’s just something about his tone that makes me think I’m not the only reason he’s had a long week.
He wraps his arms around my waist with a sigh. “I talked to my dad, who wants to see me, and I don’t want to see him. That’s it. Nothing to worry about.”
“But you are worried.”
It’s clear as day in those blue eyes. Marc nods. “He was going to show up unannounced on Christmas. I keep thinking about how that would’ve ruined our good day.”
“But he didn’t and our day was fine.”
“I don’t want him anywhere near me, so I for damn sure don’t want him anywhere near you.”
The question is on the tip of my tongue, but I’m not sure if I should ask. Marc made it clear he would share what he was comfortable with when he wanted. If I ask and he doesn’t answer... I don’t want to be disappointed.
“He’s not a good person, Elizabeth,” he whispers, as if answering my unspoken question.
“You turned out great, though.”
“And that was a fucking miracle.”
Wow. That speaks volumes. He glances away and then suddenly kisses me. My hands slide down his chest to his stomach, feeling the buttons of his shirt against my thumbs, because they lose strength as his tongue assaults mine. He’s the best kisser ever. There’s so much need being conveyed as his arms tighten to bend my back and pull me closer. This is happiness. Marc slows the kiss down, nearly killing me with his leisurely pace, because all it does is cause my heart to beat faster, my breathing to shallow, and the urge to lower my hands further to start undressing him to rise.
Marc pulls away to kiss me on the nose, which totally confuses me in my hot and bothered dazed state. “We’re a little late, but happy New Year.”
I look over my shoulder at the clock on the oven. Ten past midnight. “Happy New Year.”
“Do you know what the best way to start the new year is?”
Instead of answering, I grab the hem of my shirt and quickly pull it off. Marc is grinning when I toss it aside.
“You do know.” His rough hands are already exploring the exposed skin and plucking my bra off while I start unbuttoning his shirt. His hands come to an abrupt stop when my stomach growls. Loudly. Like, he could’ve heard it in the living room it’s so loud. “Did you eat dinner, Elizabeth?”
“I’m half naked; I’m trying to get you naked. Who cares?”
He rolls his eyes, takes off his suit jacket and his shirt, leaving him only in an undershirt, and places the shirt over me. He fastens three buttons and taps my rear. “Hop up.”
“Marc,” I start.
“Up, Elizabeth.”
I stand. “I’m not hungry.”
He ignores me as he raids my fridge to find something for me to eat. I’m honestly not hungry. All I want is to finish what we started. I’ve never been one to be particularly ambitious. The “freakiest” and craziest thing I’ve ever done in regards to sex is that brief time with Marc at the Halloween party. That was really pushing the boundaries for me, and I still don’t know what came over me. Hell, I don’t know what’s come over me half the time he’s around and I end up jumping him.
Gulping, I decide I can be a little crazy again.
My hands shake as I unbutton those three buttons and take his shirt off, letting it fall to the floor. My gaze is focused on his back. I don’t know what he’s fixing, and I don’t care. I toe out of my shoes, take off my socks, and shimmy out of my pants and panties at last. Goosebumps rise along my skin thanks to the chill in the air. What happened to all of the heat? What do I do with my hands?
Fold them over my chest?
Prop them on my hips?
Hold them behind my back?
Oh my god, I’m naked in my kitchen!
“Elizabeth?”
My eyes fly over to Marc, who has turned around. He’s holding a bowl of cereal. It trembles slightly in his hand while his gaze runs up and down my body over and over.
“Are you going to make me stand here while you ogle me, or are you going to take me to my room?”
He holds up the cereal. “But...”
I roll my eyes. I walk over, take the bowl and set it on the counter, grab his hand, and lead him down the hall to my room. My smiling can’t be helped. Who knew I could make Marc speechless? Any tension that might have been left over from everything that’s been going on disappears with every graze of his fingers, every kiss, and every time he looks at me. Those blue eyes alone could save my world with how easily I can see how much he cares for me just by looking into them.
Please, let me get through the hard times coming up with Marc. There’s a lot that seems screwy in my head, but the clearest thing is that I don’t want him to go anywhere.
I GROAN AS my senses come to me as I wake up. Fuck, my entire body aches. I started feeling a little bad last night right before we finally passed out, but nothing like this.
“Marc,” Elizabeth whispers. Her fingers graze over my face, and I open my eyes. She turns her head to cough before facing me with worried eyes. We’re both gripping each other. The blankets are tucked and wrapped around us. Is her heat not working? “I don’t feel good, and I think you have a fever.”
She’s trembling, too. I place the back of my hand on her forehead.
My throat hurts like an SOB when I swallow before I speak. “Think you have one too. Call into work and call your doctor. We probably have the flu.”
“It’s only five in the morning.”
That’s when I notice the light in the room is from the lamp next to the bed and not sunlight. “Why are we up?”
“Because I don’t feel good, and you keep pulling me closer while rolling around, so I keep moving to different sides of the bed.”
“Sorry,” I mumble, nuzzling my face into her neck. I don’t even remember the last time I was sick. This sucks. I feel like shit. “I don’t want to play the blame game, but pretty sure this is your fault.”
“Sorry.”
I pull away to look at her. “No laugh?”
“Don’t feel like it.” She rolls away, gets out of bed, goes to her closet, and returns moments later with another comforter, coughing a few times along the way. Once we’re snuggled together again, she asks, “What happens when you’re sick?”
“Well, I’ll call first to let them know. They’ll get me in to see the medical staff to confirm, and since it’s contagious, they’ll limit my contact, if any, with the guys until I’m better. Since I feel near death right now, I’m certain I’ll be able to spend most of my time here. Let’s get some sleep.”
She falls asleep, tossing and turning, but I’m too fucking cold and shivering too much to settle into sleep. I cough too much, too. I worry it’ll wake Elizabeth, but her own coughing barely wakes her up. Her alarm goes off. Somehow, I find the energy to shake her hip until she wakes up. She turns it off and calls into work. She goes back to sleep until she can call her doctor’s office, which is when I make my own call.
Some time later, Elizabeth grabs my chin and lifts my head. Right. I’m sitting on the edge of the bed and was about to get dressed because it’s getting close to time for me to leave.
“Didn’t you hear me?”
“Sorry. What did you say?”
“If you don’t hurry, you won’t have time to run home first, and I don’t think you want to show up in the same clothes as yesterday.” She eyes me for a moment. “How long do you think it’ll take?”
“An hour tops, I guess.” I don’t know. I’ve never been this sick.
“I’ll drive you. You’re worse off than I am, and you’re worrying me.”
&nb
sp; “I’m sick, Elizabeth, not incapable. Hell, you’re sick. If you can drive, I can drive.”
She holds up my trembling hands because I’m still freezing like it’s negative ten in here instead of a warm seventy-eight. I pull my hands away from hers.
“I can take care of myself.” I stand and sway for a moment. Shaking my head, as if that’ll help, I start sluggishly grabbing my clothes and tugging them on. I don’t know why I’m pissed, but I am. “I haven’t been sick since I was a kid, and I took care of myself then, so I think I can do it now that I’m an adult.” A coughing fit interrupts me, but it doesn’t stop my rant for long. “I’m not weak, Elizabeth. Even now, I’m not weak.” Even now, as I have to lean against the wall while I button my shirt because I’ve been depleted of energy to stand on my own. “I’ll drive myself.” God, I’m so tired.
Elizabeth walks over to me and crushes me in a hug. My shoulders sag. This is why I went off on her. It’s not often I feel vulnerable, but I did just now and there was an overwhelming urge to lean on her.
“Even the strongest of people need someone to take care of them every now and then,” she whispers. “Let me take care of you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Finish getting dressed, so we can go.”
We run around, going from my house to the arena to Elizabeth’s doctor appointment where I wait in the car to the pharmacy, and then finally back to her house. We’ve been lying in bed, mostly. Elizabeth has been able to eat a little soup, but I haven’t wanted anything.
My head is on Elizabeth’s shoulder while she alternates running her fingers through my hair and massaging my scalp. She’s been looking after me all day. Trying to get me to eat and drink. Making sure I’m warm. Rubbing my back. Handing me tissues. Cuddling with me. I’ve tried to do the same for her because she’s sick, too, but she won’t let me and when she says no the first time, I stop fighting because I’m tired and I don’t feel well.
“Your dad never took care of you when you were a kid and sick?” she asks softly.
“Don’t take advantage of me in my frail state.”
“When have I ever asked questions?”
I sigh. She has a point. She usually doesn’t, if she ever has to start with. “If I wasn’t in the hospital, then I was healthy enough to keep playing, keep going to school, and keep doing my chores. So, if I was as sick as I am now back then, he’d still make me go to school, contagious or not, still make me lace up, too tired and coughing or not, and still make me work my ass off whether I should be doing it or not.”
When I glance up at her because I want to see her reaction, she’s frowning. “He sounds like a bastard.”
“I’ve been trying to tell you that.”
“Two more questions.”
I rest my head on her shoulder again. “What are they?”
“You’ll tell me the entire story at some point?”
“Yes.”
“How bad is it?”
“What do you think?”
“Really bad?”
“Really bad,” I confirm. “But the worst is in the past, so don’t let it worry you.” My eyelids are finally starting to get heavy. Her chest moves with a shaky sigh, and she says something, but sleep has already come to take me away.
Next time I wake up, I’m in bed alone. “Elizabeth!” I shout, not bothering to move or lift my head or look around in case she’s somewhere in the room. Holy hell, what kind of flu is this? How can I feel worse? “Elizabeth!”
“What is it?”
I roll over to see her coming closer. “Just wanted you.”
She crawls into bed. “I’m glad you’re awake. You slept all through the night and for most of today. Well, you woke up, but you were out of it and went back to sleep pretty fast, so I didn’t count that.”
Wait. “It’s Saturday afternoon?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s a game tonight.”
“I know. Scott called me this morning, and I told him you weren’t in any shape.” Concern flashes in her eyes. “I didn’t overstep, did I? I tried to wake you, but you weren’t exactly talking in coherent sentences.”
“You’re fine.”
She breathes a sigh of relief. “I’m making soup. Feeling any better?”
I shake my head.
“Me either. We’re going to share a bowl of soup, though.”
“How are you making soup?”
Faintly, I hear a beep.
“Like that.” She goes to get up, but I stop her.
“I’ll get it.” I need to get up, whether I feel like it or not. Besides, it’s driving me crazy that she’s taking care of me so much. Okay, so it’s not bothering me that damn much, but I would like to do something for her at least once. First stop is the bathroom and then the kitchen where I grab the bowl of soup, a spoon, and two bottles of water.
We lean on each other, slowly taking turns sipping the soup. I’m done after the fourth sip. Elizabeth frowns, so I start feeding her. She lasts until ten. I do, however, steadily drink the water. We probably should’ve bought something different when we were out and about, but too late now.
“Marc?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m tired of feeling bad.”
I put our waters on the nightstand, pull her into my lap, and hold her. “I have magical powers; I’ll make you feel better.”
“I trust you.” Her words make me smile. I kiss the top of her head. “Tell me what our next date is going to be.”
“Our next date?”
“Yes. You still need to take me out on dates. Don’t get comfortable with this whole not going out but every so often thing.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“You don’t get help from me. Besides, you’ve done a good job so far. You really don’t need my help.”
I laugh. “Oh, I like you sick. That sounded like a compliment, and I think that’s the first one you’ve ever given me. You should get sick more often. Just keep me out of it next time.”
She looks up at me with a frown. Sick or not, she’s still Elizabeth and I’d bet she’s upset that I think she hasn’t complimented me.
“I’m sure I’ve complimented you at some point, Marc. Why are you smiling?” Her frown deepens with her confusion, which only makes me smile more.
“I...” The words die on my lips in shock. I can’t actually say that. Elizabeth would freak the hell out. Hell, I’m about to freak the hell out. It’s undoubtedly true, but it can’t be spoken aloud yet. “I think you’re cute is all. I’m sure you have at some point, too, Elizabeth.”
She turns her head to cough. “Are you going to watch the game?”
“Do you want to?”
“Won’t it be weird?”
“It’s always a little weird. We can watch if you want, and if we can manage to get ourselves out of bed.”
We nap first, and then move to lie on the couch with my back to the back of the couch and Elizabeth in front of me. I feel better than I did earlier, so maybe that means I’ll be good to go by the time the upcoming road trip is here. My finger absentmindedly rubs her hip where the dove tattoo is. I have a feeling it’s there because of Roger.
Elizabeth places two blankets over us; her chills are worse than mine at the moment. She grabs my hand, places it on her stomach while hers rests on top of it, lacing her fingers with mine. “Can I ask you to do something for me?”
“I’d do anything you asked me to,” I answer honestly.
“If you don’t want to yet, just say so. I’ll leave it alone. If anyone knows that space is often needed and should be respected, it’s me.”
My fingers tighten because she’s about to ask of me something big. “Spit it out, Elizabeth.”
“Will you tell me about your dad? I can’t stop thinking about it now.”
I sigh and bury my nose into her hair. “There will be conditions. These conditions are nonnegotiable. You have to agree to them.”
“What a
re they?”
“Agree first.”
I don’t need to look to know she’s frowning. Her hesitation is enough of a sign. “Okay,” she quietly agrees.
“I don’t like talking about it, so tonight is your one shot. You can ask questions when I’m done, but I might not answer. After that, we’re not talking about it again unless I bring it up, and you have an opening. You’re not allowed to tell a soul about anything related to my father. That’s it. Easy conditions.”
She rolls over to face me. “I don’t think I’d necessarily call them easy, but they aren’t hard.” She press a quick kiss to my lips. “No rush; no pressure.”
Closing my eyes, I rest my forehead against hers. Where do I even start? Which part do I share with her first? Elizabeth wraps an arm around my waist and snuggles closer—a silent show of support. I open my eyes and start talking.
“He’s a recovering alcoholic. Well, he’s supposed to be. I don’t care if he’s sober or not, and I don’t ask to find out. He has issues with depression, so he’s on medication for that, which doesn’t combine well with alcohol. That was only one issue. I think there’s more going on, but he’s never been diagnosed with anything else. He was addicted to pain killers at one time, too. He was also a mean son of a bitch.” Elizabeth tenses and her eyes well with tears. Good thing I don’t plan to give details. She dips her head into my chest to cough.
“He pushed me in school, pushed me at home, pushed me with hockey. He complained about everything. Nothing I did was ever good enough and he never liked me. He was mostly nice whenever he talked about my mom and sometimes when he was sober, but that’s about it. Once I started making money, he started calling, asking for money. He’d want help with a place to stay, things like that. Somehow, he always guilts me into helping him and making me feel responsible for him. I do it to keep him away from me and partly because, even now, I feel like by saying no, that would be pushing him too far. So, the only thing I do is I try ignoring him when he calls, and money is automatically deposited into his account every month. That’s it.”
Tears fall, but I don’t bother wiping them away for her. “How mean?”
This is why I didn’t want to tell her. I knew that would end up being the focus, and if there is one thing I wish I could forget, it’s that. For some reason, Elizabeth reaches up to drag a finger from the top of my nose down to the tip.
Because It's You (Carolina Rebels Book 2) Page 15