Once inside, Jill managed to make it to her bed falling face first into her pillow. “I’m such an idiot,” she cried, and then sat up. “And I think I’m going to puke.”
Steve sighed, “You’re not an idiot. I’m actually proud of you for standing up to Sloan.”
“Did I even make sense?” Jill wiped a tear from her cheek.
“Surprisingly, you made perfect sense.” Steve laughed, sitting down next to her. “A drunk Jill is a funny Jill with much insight.”
“I know I give you shit, but you know I love you, don’t you?” Jill leaned over, putting her head on his shoulder. “I really do, Steve, and I’m not just saying that because I’m drunk.”
“We’re family, Jill. That’s what we do, and since you’re getting all sappy and shit, guess I will too.” Steve leaned his head against hers. “I love you, too, drunkie.”
Jill laughed, which quickly turned into a groan. “I’m glad you feel that way because I think I’m going to be sick.” Jill raised her head quickly. “And I hate to puke alone.”
Steve helped her up and to the bathroom. “Well, I don’t know if I love you that much, Jill.” When she heaved into the toilet, Steve gagged. “Then again, maybe I do. Damn, what the hell did you eat?”
******
Slade watched Steve walk Jill out the door, wanting to follow, but decided it was better to give her a minute. He was so fucking proud of her drunk ass. He knew at that moment he had found the one. She was definitely the one.
“So what are your thoughts about what happened tonight?” Sloan asked everyone and anyone in the room.
“Hell, Sloan, we’ve all broken protocol.” Duncan was surprisingly the first to speak. “It’s not done out of disrespect to anyone in this room.”
“Well, I’m damn proud of her.” Sid beamed with a satisfied smile of his own. “She’s got more guts than a lot of men I know, and she’s right. George Groper might be the break we need. She saw something and went for it. Every one of us, you included, Sloan, have done the same.”
Sloan nodded. “I’ll talk to her more tomorrow and we will try to make contact with this George.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Jared nodded. “Now, can we go so I can see my woman?”
“Get the fuck out of here,” Sloan growled. “You guys are so *-whipped it makes me sick.”
“One of these days, Sloan, we are going to be saying the same about you,” Sid warned with a laugh. “And I cannot wait for that fucking day.”
“You’ll be waiting a long time, asshole,” Sloan sneered. “Now get your ass out of my office.”
“I’ve got forever,” Sid laughed as he followed Jared out.
Sloan looked at Slade. “What?”
“She made a good decision,” Slade replied, turned and walked out the door.
“Hey, let us know if she needs anything,” Sid called out, grabbing Lana who waited for him to come out of Sloan’s office.
“Thanks.” Slade hurried up the steps and down the hall to Jill’s room. Opening the door, he walked in and heard Jill and Steve talking from the bathroom.
“God, I hate to puke, but it feels good afterwards.” Jill’s groan was miserable.
“Well, Jill, I have to honestly say I hate when you puke, too.” Steve made a gagging noise. “You are a dramatic puker.”
“What the hell is a dramatic puker?” Jill snorted. “You just puke.”
Slade leaned against the wall outside the bathroom door, listening to their conversation, a small grin playing against his lips.
“No, there’s different pukers. You got your heavers, your spitters, your gaggers and then there’s you, the dramatic puker; all three put together.” Steve sounded proud of his observation.
“You know when I said I loved you?” Jill moaned.
“Yeah.” Steve’s voice held a hint of pride.
“I lied,” Jill stated as they both laughed, but then Jill groaned with a heave.
“Oh, God, not again,” Steve cried out. “How much did you drink?”
The sound of Jill vomiting made Slade move. Opening the bathroom door, he saw Steve holding Jill’s forehead as she vomited in the toilet.
“Thank God.” Steve sighed in relief seeing Slade. He stepped out of the way, but still held Jill’s forehead.
“Thanks, Steve.” Slade took his place. “I’ve got it.”
“No problem.” Steve reached down, squeezing Jill’s shoulder. “I’ll check on you later.”
Jill nodded, then heaved again. Slade grabbed a washcloth with his free hand and wet it with cold water. Laying it across the back of her neck, he rubbed her back as she continued to dry heave. Jill reached for the washcloth bringing it around to her face as she sat back on the floor.
“Better?” Slade knelt in front of her. The bathroom was so small; he had to wedge himself between the toilet and wall.
“No.” Jill wiped her face, and then rubbed the washcloth across her teeth. Turning on her knees, she curled up and lay on the floor, placing her cheek against the cold tile. “I know this is gross, but it feels so good.”