Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“Go. I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay? I just have to make sure she’s—”
Hope was gone. She disappeared down the hall, her feet pounding on the hardwood as she took off back to our suite.
Getting thrown up on was gross. No question. And nobody liked the smell of vomit. Hope’s reaction had been something else. Something worse. I’d dig into that later. She was right, I had to take care of my little sister.
Sterling had everything under control. Stomach empty, she flushed the toilet and got to her feet without looking at me. After shoving her face under the faucet, she rinsed both it and her mouth.
I stood in the center of her bedroom, staring at the splash of vomit on the carpet and watching as she went through the motions of caring for herself. She was wobbly and off-balance, but she brushed her teeth and pulled back her hair in motions so practiced I knew this happened far more often than it should.
Sterling stumbled out of the bathroom and came up short at the sight of me. “Griffen. Thought you were a dream. I got sick.”
“I know. You threw up on Hope.”
Sterling shrugged a shoulder. “Sorry.”
“I’m not the one you have to apologize to. Get in bed. We need to talk.”
“Don’t wanna talk.” Fully clothed, probably with specks of vomit on her shirt, she climbed into her unmade bed, pulling the covers up around her.
She was sleeping on her stomach. Good news if she threw up again. I drew in a breath, planning to blast her, to lay it out and tell her how it was going to be now that I was in charge.
Tugging the blanket closer to her chin, a whimper escaped. “You left us. Didn’t think you’d ever come back.”
You left us.
I’d never thought about it like that. She’d been a child. Not even ten years old. She was right. I had left. The others, Royal and Tenn and Finn, even Avery and Quinn, I could have expected to speak up for me. To reach out or answer my letters. But Sterling? She’d been a child, her mother dead, her father disinterested.
From all accounts, Sterling had spent the last decade drinking and doing God knew what else to wipe away her pain. On top of that, she’d just lost her only parent, shitty father though he was. She was grieving.
Maybe I needed to cut her some slack. Breathing in the scent of fresh vomit layered over old, I revised that thought. I could give her compassion. She was my baby sister, after all. I wouldn’t be cutting her any slack that ended up with another episode like this.
I sat on the edge of her bed after checking it for puke or grime, and pulled the covers up, tucking them tightly around her. Stroking her hair from her face, I waited until her breath was even and deep, her body relaxed in sleep. Her stomach was empty, and she’d probably feel like hell in the morning, but I didn’t think she’d throw up again.
I found Hope getting out of the shower, the color back in her face but something about her still fragile.
“Hey,” I said.
Her head rose and she gave me a weak, embarrassed smile. “She okay?”
I shrugged. “As okay as she can be for now. Are you okay?” I waited, expecting her to pretend her flight from Sterling’s room had been no big deal.
She didn’t answer, disappearing into the closet. I resisted the urge to follow and watch her drop that towel. Instead, I went to the corner of the sitting room and the clever little station Savannah had set up. Brewing a cup of tea, I spooned in a liberal dose of honey.
By the time it was ready, Hope had reappeared in a loose cotton sleep shirt that reached to her knees. She probably thought she didn’t look sexy. Little did she know the thin cotton clung to her damp curves in an appealing tease. I sat on the brown velvet couch and held out the tea.
She took it with a grateful smile and sat, sipping, the silence stretching between us.
“I’m sorry I didn’t help with Sterling. I—”
“She threw up on you, Hope. I think you get a pass.” A ghost of a smile touched her mouth and faded. “You didn’t seem grossed out. You looked scared. Why did that scare you, Hope?”
Hope took a slow sip of her tea, studying the brown velvet of the couch, worrying the nap with her fingertips. It took everything I had not to push. I didn’t know why this was important, I just knew it was. She took another sip. Then another. I waited.
Eventually, “She reminded me of my mother. I haven’t thought about her in so long, but the smell of vomit and the way she was slurring her words, the way she just didn’t care—” Hope’s voice choked off.