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She waited a few minutes, but he didn’t start throwing up again.
Letting out a breath of relief, she shifted positions on the floor. “Do you think you can try to stand up and get back to bed now? The pill makes you groggy, and I don’t want you to fall asleep on the bathroom floor.”
He mumbled out something wordless.
“Jude, can you please try? If you can’t do it, we’ll figure something else out. I can call for help or something.”
She said that on purpose because she knew he wouldn’t want to ask for help. Wouldn’t want anyone but her to see him like this.
It wasn’t fair that it was so hard for him to even walk a few steps back to the bed, but he needed to exert the effort or else accept help.
“I can… it.”
Assuming that was agreement, she stood up and leaned over to help him to his feet. He tried twice and couldn’t do it, slumping back to the floor with a groan.
She stood above him, hugging herself and trying not to cry.
“Damn it,” he muttered, starting to shiver violently again.
“It’s fine. We can try again.” She frantically searched her mind for options and finally landed on an idea. “Oh, wait. Hold on a minute.”
She half jogged into the living area of the suite. When she reached the desk, she pulled the wheeled chair out from under it and rolled it into the bedroom and then into the bathroom.
Jude peered at her through his dark eyelashes. Then his shoulders shook with a raspy, breathless sound.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice cracking.
“Y-yeah.” His expression had changed. It suddenly hit her that he was almost laughing. “Are you p-planning on… on pushing me in that… that… chair?”
She stared at him, mouth falling open, partly in awe that he was capable of finding anything funny in his condition andpartly in startled excitement because she hadn’t actually thought of that. “I was going to have you use it for support as you stand up, but your idea is even better. You can sit in it, and I’ll push you back over to the bed.”
He did some more of that shaky, gasping laughter. But he evidently believed it was a decent idea too because he tried again to heave himself to his feet, this time using the seat of the chair and then the back for support. She helped as best she could until he was seated in the desk chair, clinging to the armrests as if he were afraid he might slide out.
She gave him a minute to catch his breath and ensure he wasn’t going to throw up again. He was paler than ever and still sweating, but he didn’t get sick or pass out.
“Can you lift your feet?” she asked softly. “You need to get back into bed.”
He did as she asked, although it clearly wasn’t easy. She rolled him out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. It went quickly and without incident. Soon they were next to the bed.
She helped him up, and he collapsed onto the mattress, curling up almost immediately into the fetal position.
“Oh thank God,” she whispered when he was securely on the bed. She left him as he was to push the chair out of the way and get a small empty garbage can in case he needed to throw up again.
Hopefully he wouldn’t. He needed that pill to start working.
She had him roll back and forth a couple of times until she could get the sheet and duvet out from under him. Then she covered him up, cupping his face briefly as she gazed down at him.
“Thank… angel,” he mumbled, leaning his face into her hand.
“You’re welcome. Try to go to sleep—you should feel better when you wake up.”
She was about to step away when he grabbed for her. Fumbled until he’d found her hand. “Don’t… don’t leave.”
“I’m not going to leave. I’m going to clean up real quick, and then I’ll be back. I’m not leaving you, Jude.”
“O…kay.” He tossed back and forth on his pillow, restless and visibly uncomfortable.
She went into the bathroom and cleaned it enough to be tolerable with a travel pack of antibacterial wipes she’d brought with them. Then she washed her hands and her face, braided her hair, and brushed her teeth because she had a bad taste in her mouth. Probably from empathy.