Chapter 36 Lainey
Lainey
The last thing I wanted was for Remington to see me sick like that.
Thankfully by the time he had gotten home most of the puking was over.
Being alone when I was sick was something that I was used to.
Making my “squirrel nest,” as Remington called it, was just another way that I made sure I was less of a burden when I was little, and it carried over to adulthood.
The flu or any other illness when I was a kid didn’t mean Popsicles, snuggles, cartoons, and my mom staying close reading me books.
I was sequestered away with my germs, checked on occasionally, and sanitized once I was better.
How dare I get sick and have the audacity to bring it into the house and inconvenience everyone?
Remington’s loving compassion and concern was overwhelming and unexpected.
Letting someone in, letting someone take care of me, especially in moments of vulnerability, is almost impossible for me.
In the past there were always strings attached that bound me tightly in guilt.
This man doesn’t make me feel any of that, only loved.
When I woke up I felt much better, and my fever had broken.
Remington was still fast asleep, his strong, muscular body relaxed and hopefully not being rampaged by my invisible germs. Sliding out of bed as quietly as I could, I hurriedly brush my teeth, do my morning skin care, and rub the crimp in my neck from laying on the bathroom floor and all the hurling.
I pull on my soft, knee-length, cotton robe covered in wildflowers—a gift from Remington.
He told me it was another way he found to give me more flowers, and these ones wouldn’t wilt. I love it so much.
Even though it’s late in the day, I decide to make us breakfast for dinner.
I know that my stomach needs something plain after the war it waged.
My burning throat is a reminder of the awful night, and I slowly drink a cool glass of water, praying it won’t make a reappearance.
When I feel no nausea and less dizzy, relief takes over.
I move about the kitchen making pancakes, scrambled eggs, and start the kettle for a cup of soothing ginger tea.
Strong arms gently wrap around my stomach and warm lips kiss the side of my neck as I flip my second batch of pancakes. “Mmmm,” Remington hums into my neck. “I take this as a good sign? You feeling better, baby?”
“Much,” I sigh with ease. Spinning around, I look over his handsome face with concern. “How are you feeling?”
“I feel great. Sleep next to you was exactly what I needed. And don’t worry, so far I don’t feel sick. Hopefully, I won’t get it.” He grips the back of my neck and pulls me into a claiming kiss, obviously not caring at all about the chance of lingering germs.
It’s easy to get lost in him when his hands and mouth are on me. Hot desire pools low in my gut, and I rub my thighs together, feeling needy. Just as he is pressing his growing erection into me I smell the burning.
“Shit!” I jump away from him and quickly snatch my pancakes off of the smoking griddle. The would-be golden circles are the color of charcoal and ruined, but I can admit the kiss was worth it. Remington opens up the kitchen windows to let in fresh air and clear out the burnt pancake smell.
“Sorry.” His alluring smirk tells me he’s about as sorry as I am. Cleaning off the griddle, I start a new batch and sip my tea.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Remington says. “I was so upset thinking about you here all alone and so sick. You should have called me or even my mom. Someone should’ve been with you.”
“Remington,” I sigh, knowing he won’t like this. “Taking care of myself, even sick, is something I have been doing since I was a little girl. This morning was the first time, ever, someone has truly cared for me like that when I was ill.”
The ripple of anger is unmistakable, but it is never aimed at me.
It’s the same one that runs through Remington’s body any time I tell him something unsettling from my past. I can tell he wishes he could time travel and beat the crap out of my demons, erase the option of my pain before it was ever able to touch me.
I love him even more for wanting to protect the little girl I used to be, and it’s helping heal what parts of her are left in my soul.
“I’m so sorry, baby. That’s unfair, and it rips my heart out knowing you didn’t get the care you deserved.
But that is not how it is going to be now.
We’re a team. We have each other. We also have my family.
So when I’m on shift and can’t be here, promise you will call them for help?
My mom will be so upset knowing you were sick.
Even if she didn’t come over, she still should have known you weren’t well to be able to check in on you with a call or text. ”
I plate up our breakfasts and set them on the island. Hopping up on one of the stools, I look at Remington who’s still waiting, arms crossed. Stubborn man. “Asking for help is not easy for me, but I promise I will try and be better about it. Just be patient with me, okay? It’s a big adjustment.”
“Fair enough.”
We eat our food in comfortable silence for a while.
I take small bites making sure my stomach is able to handle the real food.
When about half my plate is gone I feel worn out and ready to rest again.
Even though I feel better, being so sick has drained me.
Thankfully, I thought to call out of work last night when I wasn’t feeling well so I could rest and recover all day today.
“Speaking of adjustments.” Remington clears his throat and looks at me.
My heart rate and anxiety automatically take off.
He must read it on my face because he quickly reaches out, cups my face, and rubs my jaw.
I melt into his touch and he kisses me softly.
“This is a good adjustment, deep breath.”
I do as he says, closing my eyes, and breathing in his cedar and fresh soap scent.
“Eyes, Lainey.” His voice is a deep, sexy command that has me connecting my gaze to his immediately. “I want you to officially move in with me.” His smile as he says those words takes my breath away.
“W-what?” I stammer, and my mind tries to catch up. “You don’t think it’s too soon?”
“Baby,” Remington chuckles, “you basically already live here anyways. You only go back to the apartment when you need to pick something up. I think we should just call it what it is. Let’s make it official. Lainey Quinn, will you please move in with me?”
I can’t help the whoop of joy that fills my lungs as I throw myself into Remington’s lap—good thing he’s a big, strong firefighter and can catch me, keeping his balance. “Yes, yes! I will officially move in with you.”
Our smiles reflect the happiness we feel, and nothing has felt more right than being with the man I love, in our home.
Maybe soon I can tell him about the other things I have always wanted but never thought were possible.