Page 48 of Beautiful Crazy
“I-I’ll wait out here,” Sutton whispers, stopping just outside of the bedroom door.
Glancing over my shoulders at him, I nod. “Okay. Why don’t you go watch some TV?”
“Okay.”
Blowing out a breath, I go in, the circumstances this time vastly different from the last time I was in this spot. When I step in, Gemma is sitting on the bed, watching me with a blank expression on her face.
“Why am I not in the least bit surprised to find you in my house right now?” she asks, and despite how exhausted she looks, I don’t miss the light humor in her words, like maybe she’s not as annoyed by it as she’s trying to seem.
“Sutton knocked on my door,” I explain, kind of feelinglike I’m ratting him out without meaning to. “Think he’s just worried about you.”
She sighs, brushing the hair out of her face. It’s all tied up on top of her head in a bun that’s flopping over toward her forehead. “I’m not trying to worry him,” she breathes out, sounding utterly dejected.
“What’s going on?”
I step farther into the room, sitting on the chair in the corner next to the full-length mirror.
“I’m having an allergic reaction to the antibiotics I got.” Shoving the blankets off her legs, she gestures toward her thighs. “I’ve got hives all over and have a headache from hell that won’t go away.”
“Shit, Gemma,” I breathe. “As if you haven’t been through enough this week.”
She laughs dryly. “You’re telling me.”
“What can I do?” She opens her mouth to respond, but I cut her off and say, “Don’t you dare say nothing. Let me help you.”
Chest rising and falling with a sigh, Gemma smiles, but barely. “Everett.” She breathes my name; it sounds like a prayer. “You’re too sweet to me.”
“It’s what friends are for, right?” My lips curl up into a grin, knowing we both are well aware that there is nothing friendly about the way I want Gemma. “Have you talked to your doctor about the allergic reaction?”
“Yeah.” She nods. “He’s going to prescribe something else. Says I can get it in the morning.”
“How ’bout this,” I murmur, standing up and closing the distance between us. “You rest in here, and I’ll go watch a movie with Sutton in the living room. I’ll refill your water bottle because itlooks like you could use some more, and you let me handle everything else tonight.”
“Everett, I can’t ask you?—”
“You’re not asking,” I cut her off. “I’m offering, and I’m not accepting no for an answer.”
Brow furrowing, Gemma purses her lips at me, huffing out a sigh. “You’re about as bad as my sisters,” she grumbles.
“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you,’ now lie down and get some rest before I call Grace and tell her how difficult you’re being.”
Her eyes narrow at that, a smirk tugging on her lips. “Oh, that’smean, Mr. Windward.”
Chuckling, I grab the door on my way out, closing it partway. “Good night.”
“Everett.” My eyes fly open at the sound of my name and the light nudge to my arm. I can already tell before I even move that my back is going to give me trouble today. I glance up at the person in front of me.
Gemma.
Then I look around, confusion fogging my brain. I’m definitely not at my house, and by the looks of it, I’m in her living room. But how? After a moment, it hits me. At some point during our DC movie marathon, I must’ve passed out on the couch and Sutton took himself to bed. Somebody—I’m assuming Sutton, since Gemma looks just asconfused as I do—covered me with the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch last night.
“Hey,” I croak, sitting up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“It’s okay, but that couldn’t have been comfortable.”
I huff out a laugh, dragging my fingers through my hair. “Not really, but it’s fine. I slept here the night you went into surgery. It’s not too bad. Sutton still asleep?”
Nodding, she says, “Yeah, it’s only a little after eight. He typically sleeps until at least nine on the weekends. Sometimes later.”