11. Trevor
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TREVOR
I juggle a couple of grocery bags as I walk through the courtyard toward Willa’s house.
Knocking on her door sends a sudden ripple of anxiety through me.
I didn’t tell her I was coming. She would have refused.
And she definitely didn’t ask for anything in these bags.
She could be allergic to…well, all of it.
My heart pounds, increasing to rapid thrashing when the lock jiggles. I’m nervous as hell.
Willa cracks the door and scowls at me. “What are you doing here?” A purple hair scarf is tied around her head with her twists flowing out of it behind her. I can just make out the hem of an oversized TAILA T-shirt hitting her bare thigh through the door gap.
“I brought you some stuff. Can I come in?”
She groans, reaching for her stomach as a retch rolls through her body before she takes off for the kitchen sink.
I let myself into her dark entryway, the only light coming from the TV and the small glow above the stove.
Running water competes with the garbage disposal as I close the door, then slip off my shoes.
The mechanical whirring hides the sound of her heaving, but the violent lurch of her shoulders as I enter the kitchen is obvious.
I line up the bags on the countertop, next to a bottle of cleaning solution, mouthwash, and paper towels.
Grabbing the entire roll, I stand next to her and sweep her twists off to the side.
Her poor body looks exhausted, clutching to the edge of the sink, knees half bent like they’re struggling to keep her upright.
I dip a folded paper towel into the water flowing from the faucet, squeeze, and flatten it out over the back of her neck.
She goes rigid at my touch until a sigh slips past her lips as she gives in to the coolness.
Only then do I place my hand on her back.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been sick, Gem? ”
“What can you do about morning sickness?” she says through ragged breaths, cupping water in her hand to rinse her mouth.
The paper towel falls when she tries to stand straight, but she instantly curls back into herself and turns toward the darkened living room. She collapses on the sofa with a groan.
“Be here for you, for starters. Willa?—”
“It’ll pass. It’s fine.”
“Okay, well, I brought some things to help. You up to try them?”
“I’ll try anything to stop feeling like death warmed over.”
Chuckling, I pluck a bag off the counter and follow. Despite her joking, she looks horrible. “Any allergies, beautiful?”
“Yeah. Babies, apparently. I thought I wasn’t supposed to be miserable until the end.”
“Here, try this.” I hand her a ginger lozenge. “Have you been able to eat anything today?”
“No.” She rolls on her back to look up at me. “The only thing staying down is ice water.”
Digging into the bag, I grab the clamshell holding acupressure wristbands and sit on the arm of the couch, right above her head. “Wrist,” I say.
She squints at me, not moving a muscle.
“ Please .”
Slowly, she raises her arm in the air, eyes skeptically watching mine. I slip the band on her wrist, lining up the plastic disk with the pressure point below her hand. “Other wrist. When was the last time you ate something, sweetheart?”
She raises her other arm in the air. “Last night. And it all came back out. I’m scared to eat anything else.”
“Sit tight, Gem.” I start for the kitchen.
“Ugh, can you stop with the names?”
“What?”
“ Sweetheart . Beautiful . Gem . Just use my name like a normal person.”
“Sure thing, Willa.” Laughing quietly, I rummage through the other bags on the counter.
I didn’t even realize I wasn’t using her name, which probably means something I’m not going to think too hard about right now.
I reach for my next remedy, opening it while heading back to the couch.
She needs something—anything—in her stomach. “Here, Willa.”
She scowls at the bag like it’s a rabid squirrel. “…Chips?”
“I’m about to make you some soup, but see if you can handle a few, swee—Willa.”
Her indignant stare bores into me as she reaches inside and places a chip in her mouth.
How she does it in slow motion is beyond me.
Shit . Not now. She feels like garbage, just threw up in the sink, but the way she slides the chip on her tongue sends my attention straight to her lips.
Closing her eyes, she fucking moans like it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted, and despite knowing it was exclusively for the snack, my body reacts anyway.
What the hell is wrong with you ? This is the worst time for a semi but, luckily, the darkness is my friend.
I clear my throat as a distraction. “Good?”
She snatches the bag out of my hand so fast, I draw back to keep all of my fingers attached.
The foil rustles as she quickly demolishes the chips, but even with her attention long gone, I’m still feeling the effects as I walk back into the kitchen and adjust myself.
Calm the fuck down . I flip on the light and get to work.
Spraying the sink and counters with the bottle of cleaner, I wipe everything down with paper towels, disposing of them in an empty grocery bag at my feet.
After using soap and the hottest water I can stand to wash my hands, I turn around to find Willa watching me from the couch. “Everything okay, Ge—Willa?”
“Did you just clean my kitchen?”
“You’ve been puking in it. Didn’t think you wanted the extra flavor in your soup. Is that okay, Will?—”
“ Ohmygod ! Stop saying my name.” She sits up straighter, cocking her head to the side.
I laugh, a little surprised it took her this long to catch on. “You just told me to use your name…” I tease.
“Yeah, but now you’re being a smart-ass.”
“Okay, so what do you want me to call you?”
“Anything you want. Just stop being weird.”
“Okay…bossy.”
Her glare only makes my smile grow as I wink at her, turn my back, and search for a pot.
Willa sucked down three bowls of potato soup and a ginger soda so quickly, I contemplated running back to the store for more.
Right now, she’s lounging against the arm of the couch with her eyes closed and a sated smile on her face.
Her defenses have fallen enough that sitting next to her doesn’t feel like a one-way trip to a lion’s den.
“Thanks, Trevor,” she says on a sigh, fiddling with the wristbands on her arms. “How did you know these would work?”
“I asked my sister.”
Her eyes fly open in a panic. “You told your sister I’m pregnant?”
“Nope. Told her it was for a friend. But we should tell our families pretty soon, considering our friends already know.”
She takes a deep breath, heaving out a forceful puff of air.
“I was going to wait until Thanksgiving to tell my parents…” Her teeth sink into her lower lip as she wrings her hands.
I’ve met them before, a couple of times when tagging along with Ashlie and Hunter.
They’re intense, but friendly enough, in my experience.
I don’t have many details about her strained relationship with them, but it involves her choosing a different path for her life than they wanted.
I imagine this kind of news won’t go over well with them at all.
“I’ll come with you…if you want.”
“You’re not going home?”
“Nope. I go home once a year, at Christmas. I usually tough Thanksgiving out on my own.”
“Oh. Why?”
Because I hate Heritage, Nebraska, and try to spend as little time there as possible. Some of my worst memories are tied to that place. The trapped feeling I get whenever I’m home makes me want to take a flying leap.
“It’s…just not my favorite place. Let me come with you to Fort Bender. We can tell your parents together.”
Willa nibbles her lip for several seconds as she thinks. I spend the time gazing at the arches of her eyebrows, the slope of her nose, the outline of her lips—I can’t help but admire all that she is. Too quickly, she lets out a sigh and shakes her head, etching over my reverie
“Hey.” I place my hand on her foot. “We’re in this together. Let me support you.”
A grimace scrolls across her face, but it’s gone by the time she looks at me. Her head falls back on the couch, and she nods as a yawn stretches her jaw.
“Yeah?”
She yawns again, eyes drooping closed as she rolls to her side and curls her legs in. “Yes, Trevor. Come to Bender.” Another yawn, and she mumbles, “You might as well see the dysfunction in all of its glory.” A couple of deep breaths later, she’s out like a light.
The bags under her eyes are so dark, it’s clear she hasn’t slept while she’s been sick.
I can’t stand the thought of her waking up with a sore body on top of a sour stomach, so I stand from the couch and scoop her in my arms. She murmurs something when her head flops against my chest, but stays asleep as I walk her down the hallway.
Besides a small bathroom, her bedroom is the only other room on this side of the house.
As I settle her under the pintuck comforter, the pale moonlight streaming through the window casts peaceful shadows over her face.
She ’ s so damn beautiful . I press a kiss to her forehead, just because it feels right.
After tucking her in, I grab her phone and some snacks from the kitchen, and leave them on her nightstand, closing the door softly while backing into the hallway. Then I clean up and settle on her couch. I’ll sleep here tonight, just in case she needs me.