Chapter 26 #2
She reaches over and takes my hand, gently enough that it slows down my racing thoughts. “Just keep breathing. We’re almost there.”
By the time we reach my uncle’s house, I’m barely holding it together. Scarlett helps me to our suite, where I head straight for the couch.
“Absolutely not.” She steers me toward the bed instead. “You’re taking the big bed.”
“No,” I protest weakly.
“It’s closer to the bathroom, Brendan.”
“I don’t need—” A wave of nausea hits me and I double over, grabbing on to the bedpost as a cough wracks my lungs. A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead. When I stop coughing, I don’t have the energy to argue. I fall onto the mattress without even removing my shoes as the room spins.
“Where’s your inhaler?” she asks, already moving toward my bags.
“Inside pocket of the duffel.”
She finds it and presses it into my hand. I take a puff and almost immediately my lungs start to loosen.
She watches me, sitting on the edge of the bed with a worried expression.
“See?” I pull in a full, deep breath, and it’s glorious. “All good. I could probably go out for a run now.”
She frowns, unconvinced. “You will absolutely not be running tonight.” She reaches to unlace my shoes, tugging them off one at a time. “Except maybe to the bathroom.”
“So romantic, Rossi,” I mutter.
“Hey, I’m keeping it real.” She drops my shoes on the floor and straightens up, hands on her hips. “Now sit up.”
I obey, and she moves closer, reaching for the buttons of my shirt. “Let’s get this off, Coach Marco.”
My brain is foggy from the medicine, but not so foggy that I don’t appreciate the irony here. “You know,” I say as her fingers work the first button, “when I imagined you taking off my shirt, I pictured this moment very differently.”
Her hands still for just a second, and I catch the ghost of a smile. “How different?”
“For starters, I wouldn’t be covered in hives and hopped up on Benadryl.”
She moves to the second button, pointedly not meeting my eyes, like she’s trying to maintain her self-control.
“And I’d be significantly more conscious,” I add.
“That does seem like it would improve the experience.” The third button comes undone, and I’m transfixed by the way her hair falls forward and her bottom lip is caught between her teeth.
“And you’d be enjoying yourself more,” I say, just to see her reaction.
She looks up then. “Who says I’m not enjoying myself?”
“Rossi, are you flirting with me while I’m dying?”
“You’re not dying, Coach.” She’s smiling now as she undoes the last button. “Sit up.”
I raise myself off the bed so she can tug the shirt off my arms. Her fingers brush my skin, and even through the antihistamine haze, my skin tingles.
“You know what?” I say as she tosses my shirt onto the chair. “You’d make a good coach.”
“Oh yeah?” She’s pulling back the covers now, all business. “Why’s that?”
“You’re excellent at bossing people around.”
She shoots me a look. “Is that a compliment or complaint?”
“Definitely a compliment.” I’m sinking back into the pillows, everything going hazy around the edges. “And you’re way better looking than most coaches.”
“Most?” She sits on the edge of the bed, amused by this conversation.
“Well, I am pretty good-looking,” I mumble, my eyes already closing.
She laughs, and even in my state, my whole body soaks up the sound of it. “I’m glad to see your ego survived the allergic reaction.”
“My ego is indestructible,” I confirm.
“And…your humor’s back too,” she says, moving off the bed. I catch her hand before she can pull away.
“But seriously, Scarlett—” I peel open my eyes. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
She studies me. “What else can I get you?”
“Just you.” Even though my body still isn’t feeling right, her presence is making everything better.
“You need water. And sleep.” She pulls away and I hate the way it feels when she’s not next to me.
“I want you close,” I say in a raspy voice. “Please stay.”
She brushes my hair back from my forehead, and it eases the pain in my stomach. “I’m not going anywhere.”
My eyes are getting heavier. “I’m sorry about today.”
“What?” She sounds confused. “Why are you apologizing?”
“Ruined our spa day,” I mumble.
“Are you kidding?” Her fingers thread through my hair again. “This was one of the best days I’ve had in years. Until you tried to poison yourself, that is.”
“Really?” I force my eyes open to look at her, to see if I’m imagining this moment.
“Really.” She smiles softly.
“That kiss,” I say, my words getting fuzzier as the medicine drags me under. “Nothing could ever top that.”
“Well, what guy doesn’t like making out in a hot tub?”
“Only if it’s you. But next time, let’s skip the allergic-reaction part.”
She laughs. “I think the Benadryl is finally kicking in.”
“It’s not the meds.” I’m trying to explain something important here, but everything feels blurry, like I’m trying to focus my eyes underwater. “I’m trying to tell you something…”
“We can talk about what happened later.” She gives my hand a squeeze. “When you feel more like yourself and can remember things clearly.”
“It’s been over a decade, Scarlett.” I meet her eyes, even though she’s going fuzzy around the edges. “I know how I feel.”
I take a breath and say the words I should have said a dozen years ago. “I love you, Scarlett Rossi.”
Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I know exactly what I’m saying.” Everything else is fuzzy at the edges, but this is the clearest thing in the room. “And I mean every word.”
She’s quiet for a moment.
“Scarlett?” I mumble, my eyes closed.
“Yes, Bren?”
“You’re not saying anything back.”
There’s a pause. Too long, I think, or maybe my brain is just drifting into darkness.
“I just don’t know what to believe right now.” She rubs her thumb over my knuckles. “You’re sick and exhausted and full of antihistamines—”
“It’s true though,” I interrupt. “I’ve spent the last twelve years loving you. And I won’t let myself go another day without telling you.”
“You’re clearly in no state to confess your love for me.”
“No, I’m in the perfect state. Being sick makes me totally uninhibited. Ask me anything.”
She pauses, then her eyes drop to my forearm.
She traces her finger over the rose. “Is that tattoo for your sister?”
I swallow, then shake my head.
“But…” Her brow furrows. “Carmen said you got it in honor of her. That it’s the date—”
“I let my family think that. Because I didn’t want to tell them the truth.” I level my gaze at her. “It’s for you. For the night we kissed.” I pause, my eyes closing again. “You always loved roses, Scarlett.”
Her fingers trace the outline of the tattoo, featherlight. “You got this for me?”
I nod, fighting the heaviness of sleep. “Everything is for you. Why do you think I came back to Sully’s Beach? Why I come to the coffee shop every single day?”
“But I thought—”
“It wasn’t for the coffee, Scarlett.” I reach up to stroke her cheek. “It was always for you.”
She wraps her hand around mine and brushes her lips to my forehead.
It’s the last thing I see before sleep drags me under completely. And even in my dreams, she’s there, right next to me.