Page 51 of Restoration
“Good.” He leans down and brushes his lips against my forehead very softly. “So you just work on feeling better and get some rest.”
“I’ll try.”
***
IDO TRY. BUT BY THEtime it gets dark, I’ve thrown up three more times and had to run for the bathroom tree twice.
The last time, I’m so weak and shaky that I can’t even walk back to the blanket. Edmund has to pick me up and carry me there.
He settles me in my spot, adjusting the pillow behind my head and covering me up with a blanket. It’s cooler out now because the sun has gone down, and I can’t stop shivering.
“Why does my head hurt so much,” I ask, smacking my dry lips and wishing everything would simply stop.
“Because you’re dehydrated.” After getting me settled, Edmund started working on lighting a fire. “Do you think you can drink something?”
He’s tried to offer me sips throughout the day, and I haven’t been able to do more than wet my mouth.
“I don’t know.”
“I think you’ll feel better if you can. Will you at least try?”
His voice is as soft and controlled as it’s been all day, but there’s something slightly stretched underlying the words. As if he’s upset but trying not to be.
I can’t stand for him to be upset. Especially if it’s my fault. So I clear my throat and nod.
He gets the fire going and then works on something behind me, bringing over my cup, helping me lift my head and then holding the drink up to my lips.
When I feel the liquid in my mouth, I swallow immediately.
It’s not water. I make a face.
“It’s just coconut water,” he explains. “It’s got electrolytes in it. You really need that.”
“Okay.” Coconut water is incredibly mild, but I’d rather not taste anything at all. But the last thing I want to do is disappoint Edmund after this terrible day, so I make myself take a few more sips.
It’s not as bad as I feared. My stomach stays settled afterward.
“That’s good,” he says in almost a whisper, stroking my hair back again. “That’s better.”
“Can I go to sleep now?” I toss restlessly under the covers.
“Yes. You go to sleep.”
I close my eyes but don’t like the fact that I can’t see him. I reach out and fumble until I touch his knee. I hold on to it as I try to let my mind slip away into darkness.
After a minute, it feels like I’m going to drown in that darkness. I whimper and toss my head back and forth. “Edmund.”
“I’m right here.” He takes hold of my hand. “I’m still right here.”
“I don’t... I don’t think I’m going to make it.”
There’s a long pause after my desperate, mumbled words. The silence is grating. Aching.
“Yes, you are,” he replies gruffly. “You told me you weren’t going to leave me alone, and I’m going to hold you to that.”
“But I feel so... so...”
“I know you do. But you’re going to get better. Baby, you have to. You can’t leave me.”