Page 102 of Love Unwritten
I slump over the side of the small fishing boat with a groan. Rafael’s hold on my hair doesn’t loosen, which matches the one he has on my heart today. His other hand, which found the small of my back and never left, rubs in a soothing circle.
I was supposed to be steering clear of him and sticking to one side of the boat, but then my stomach decided to revolt after suffering through twenty minutes of unrelenting nausea. Thankfully, I made it to the side of the boat in time, with Rafael on my heels. He pulled my hair away from my face in a second and kept the strands in his tight grip while I vomited. He even ran a wet towel over my face and whispered reassuring phrases under his breath, only for me to hear.
Rafael is being so gentle—so damn soft and caring and patient—that tears spring to my eyes at the unfairness of it all. Of craving the comfort of the one person I can’t have.
Thankfully, I’m turned away from him, so he doesn’t notice me getting emotional, but it doesn’t make the tears any less real.
Rafael isn’t just rekindling the crush I had on him all those years ago. He is fanning the flames and making them burn stronger than ever before, and he has absolutely no idea.
I’ve never been cared for like this by someone who wasn’t my family or Willow, and it makes me feel so much all at once.
Burning desire. Crippling fear. Unbridled sadness, knowing this is all our relationship will ever be.
After channeling a bit of strength and wiping at my mouth with the back of my hand, I stand and lean against the boat. “I told you I should have stayed at the hotel.”
“It’s my fault we didn’t charter a bigger boat.”
“Your modes of transportation are severely questionable.” I’m desperate to ease some of the discomfort I feel at ruining their fishing expedition because if there is something I hate more than confrontation, it’s inconveniencing people.
I explored that issue in therapy, but that doesn’t mean I don’t slip back into that kind of guilty mindset from time to time. It’s impossible not to after feeling like a burden for so long. My mom has always vehemently disagreed, but that hasn’t stopped me from blaming myself for her staying with my father because she wanted to protect me.
Another wave crashes against the side of the boat, and I stare at the horizon while praying that the sudden bout of nausea disappears as quickly as it came.
Nico passes me the mint tin from Rafael’s backpack, and I pop three in my mouth.
“Mijo, can you get Elle some water too? And ask the captain for crackers, please.”
“Sure. Anything for Elle.” He sticks his tongue out at his father and takes off toward the front of the boat. It’s not a big one, which Rafael explained only makes the rocking worse.
My stomach churns. “This is miserable.”
“I already asked him to turn back.”
“No!” I face him with wobbly legs. The next wave that comes barreling against the side of the boat throws me off-balance, but thankfully Rafael stops me from falling over. It takes me back to last night and the way his hold tightened around me, especially when he lets me go in a rush again.
He crosses his arms against his chest. “You’ve thrown up twice already.”
“Perhaps the third time’s a charm.”
He doesn’t even crack a smirk.
“Stop fussing over me. At worst, I’ll be dry-heaving because I have nothing left in my stomach.”
His scowl deepens. “You’re probably dehydrated.”
“And you’re overreacting.” I point at Nico, who struggles to keep the water inside the plastic bottle as he walks toward the back of the boat. “I just need a little water, and I’ll be good to go.”
Rafael seems unimpressed. “You look pale.”
“That’s my sunscreen.”
He doesn’t seem to buy my answer. “Why are you pushing so hard to stay?”
Because I hate being a burden.
The frown lines beside his eyes soften. “It’s okay to say you don’t feel well. You’re not ruining our day if you ask us to go back.”
I smile through the nausea. “I’ll be good as new in a few minutes. Just wait and see.”