I stumbled and Denny swooped me into his arms. I clamped my mouth shut, begging for the nausea to stop. It didn’t, though. Instead, it got stronger and stronger. Denny hurried us to the house, telling me, “I know you don’t, Kiera. It will be okay, just hold on.” Tears were leaking from my eyes as he squatted down to unlock the door—I really hated being sick.
Closing the front door with his foot, Denny rushed us upstairs. He set me down in the bathroom right as I lost control. Sinking to my knees, I noisily lost my stomach into the toilet. Denny sighed and patted my back. He removed my bag from my shoulder while I heaved a couple more times. As I laid my head on the seat, I could hear him moistening a towel. He handed it to me and I gratefully wiped my mouth with the warm cloth. “Thanks,” I murmured, then I threw up again.
I felt like I was sick for hours. It never seemed to end. I was a sniffling, blubbering mess, but Denny stayed by my side. When there was nothing left in my stomach, I lay down on the cool bathroom tiles. They felt wonderful. As I closed my eyes, Denny whispered, “Kiera?”
I was so tired, I couldn’t respond.
He let out a long, slow exhale as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I wanted to open my eyes to see his expression, but my eyelids felt like lead. I felt Denny’s strong arms scooping me up again, then he slowly walked me into Kellan’s and my bedroom and laid me on the bed. After he removed my shoes and socks, I buried myself into the covers; nothing had ever felt so incredible in all my life.
Denny leaned over me, tucking me in, then he hesitated; I could feel his presence above me. I again tried to open my eyes, but it was like they were glued shut. After another pause, I felt his lips lower to my hair. The tender gesture made me smile. He pulled away and I felt like he was going to leave me. I weakly reached out and grabbed his hand. I didn’t want him to go. I didn’t want to be alone like this.
“Stay,” I croaked out. “Please.”
Denny sighed again. “Yeah, I’ll have to call Abby and let her know, but it’s fine. I’ll stay here if you need me to. I’ll be in the next room if you need anything.”
I nodded and released his hand. I could feel sleep creeping up on me, but Denny was still hovering, so I tried to push the feeling back. He watched me in silence for a long time, then he whispered, “I don’t know what I feel for you, Kiera . . . other than . . . I care about you. I care if you’re happy. I care if you’re sad. I care if you’re safe. And if that’s love . . . then, yes, I guess I love you. I love you, but I’m not in love with you. . . . Does that make sense?”
It took a great deal of effort, but I twisted around and opened my eyes. He was giving me a soft smile . . . all three of him. I shut my eyes and nodded. It did make sense, even to my fuzzy brain. I loved him too, I just wasn’t in love with him. He wasn’t my heart and soul. He didn’t consume every part of me. He wasn’t Kellan.
Denny patted my leg, then left me. Just as sleep started claiming me, my phone rang. My bag was still in the bathroom, and I heard Denny stop and dig through it. Seconds later, he said, “Uh, Kiera . . . it’s Kellan. Should I answer this?”
My eyes sprang open. Denny answering my cell phone late at night wouldn’t look good. But not answering Kellan’s call on the last night of my shift wouldn’t look good either. Not only that, but Kellan and I were giving total honesty a try . . . so I really didn’t have a choice. Gritting my jaw, I squeaked out, “Yes . . . please.”
I heard Denny pick up the line. He said a few words in a low voice, then he came back into the bedroom. With a hand on my shoulder, he rolled me over. My stomach tilted again. “He, um, wants to talk to you.”
I nodded, inhaling through my nose, out through my mouth. My shaky fingers brushed against Denny’s as I took the phone from him. In an almost inaudible voice, I said, “Hello?”
“Kiera? Are you okay? Denny said you were sick.”
There was a weird tone to Kellan’s voice when he said Denny; not quite pain, not quite anger, but somewhere in between. “I’ll be fine . . . I just . . . had a few too many shots at Pete’s.” My insides tightened even more just saying the word “shots.”
Kellan let out an aggravated exhale. “I don’t like you getting drunk when I’m not there to take care of you.”
Without thinking, I told him, “It’s okay, Denny’s taking care of me.”
Voice tight, Kellan replied, “Yeah, I know.”
“Kellan, please don’t worry,” I murmured. “You know I love you. I married you, didn’t I?”
Kellan laughed, the tension easing from his voice. I heard Denny leave the room, shutting my door behind him. I tried not to worry if that remark had hurt him. It shouldn’t have. He’d just said he only felt friendship for me, after all.
I groaned into the phone as my stomach flip-flopped. “Kellan, I feel awful.”
Kellan chuckled again. “Serves you right, drinking without me. And when I can’t even take advantage of you too.”