CHAPTER 18
Murphy
Glancing at my phone, I curse again as I approach Jesse’s room. This better not be some kind of trick and yet, at the same time, a sense of dread is choking me over the distress signal that he sent me.
Help. Please. Injured and sick.
Sighing at the text message, I put my phone to sleep and rap on the door to his room. Injured? Injured how?
I’m about to knock again when the seconds feel like minutes, but then the door cracks open. Jesse’s face comes into view, his expression pinched as he leans his head on the wall. He looks green, and what in…
“Thank you,” he mumbles, drawing the door open.
“What happened to your head?”
Wincing, his fingertips gingerly finger the beige daisy-shaped bandage stuck to his forehead right above his left eye. There’s a dark circle in the center, almost like blood has seeped through.
Tromping to his bed, he murmurs over his shoulder, “I was throwing up in the bathroom and hit my head on the vanity when the ship rocked,” he groans, flopping down and covering his eyes with his forearm.
Shit. He could have a concussion. Rounding the bed, I set my phone on his nightstand and sit down on the edge of the mattress. Leaning over, I move his arm.
“Do you need stitches?”
“I don’t think so. I put a boobie bandage on it.”
“A what?” Inspecting his bandage, I realize it’s rather large. It’s the largest circular bandage I’ve ever seen. Circular isn’t accurate, though. It really is shaped like a flower. “Did you put a freaking nipple pastie on your forehead?”
“It’s all I had,” he whines.
“Why the fuck do you have nipple pasties?”
“The girls gave me some one night. I threw some in when I was packing my suitcase. Mom always says you should have a first-aid kit on hand.”
Sighing, I peel the adhesive back and cringe at the sight of him wincing. This thing is entirely adhesive. It might work great on holding in nipples, but it would be my last choice to cover a wound. The cut is fairly small, but he’s going to have a goose egg at the edge of his eyebrow in the morning.
“Stay here. I’m going to get you some ice and a real bandage.”
Before I can get up, he clutches onto my wrist. “Murph?”
“What?”
“Are you still mad at me?”
Sighing, I stare back at his troubled eyes. “I wasn’t mad.”
Chewing his lip, he swallows like he’s either fighting nausea or feeling vulnerable. “I’m not a cockslut.”
Rolling my eyes, I squeeze his shoulder. “I know.”
Getting up, I give him a once-over. He looks like he did when he got the flu last year, making me want to spoon in behind him until he’s back to his chaotic self.
“Do you need anything for your stomach? I can grab some ginger ale from the bar.”
Averting his gaze, his lower lip pouts. “No,” he says sullenly.
“It’s not a problem. I’ve got to walk past one when I go to my room to get my toiletry bag.”
“I got some Dramamine from Walt and Darnell’s room,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms across his chest, rolling onto his side.
He’s still not looking at me. Why won’t he look at me?
“The grandpas?”
Shrugging, he confirms, “Yeah.”
“You went to their room?”
“They’re old. They have everything and… and I needed someone to talk to after you blew up on me.” Heaving a breath, he pinches his eyes closed, hugging himself tighter, and mumbles, “I didn’t know they were going to try sandwiching me.”
“They what?”
“It’s fine. I left before anything happened. I said I was sick.”
I’m going to kill them. Correction—I’m going to kill them, and then I’m going to kick Jesse’s ass. Right after I go get something to replace his nipple pastie.
“Stay here and don’t get up. It’s still choppy out there.”
“I won’t.”
“Yeah, just like I told you not to get sandwiched.”
“How was I supposed to know they were bad grandpas?”
“Would you shut up about the grandpas? Just promise me you won’t get up. I’m serious. Don’t move around the cabin until you feel better. I didn’t pack enough Band-Aids for your big thick head if you wobble and bash it into something else.”
“Fine,” he grouses, burying his face in the pillow.
I don’t know where in the hell we stand, but one thing is for certain. I’m stuck with him, not just here. I’m pretty sure I’m stuck with him for the rest of our lives through some bizarre bond that’s stronger than nipple pastie adhesive. We always find a way to gravitate toward each other.