Drunken I love yous

Stella

Morton’s was my favorite restaurant growing up. There aren’t many places in the world that promote the use of salt these days, but Morton’s is one of them.

In the lobby is a giant canister of salt that’s tipped to the side pouring tons of real salt into a bowl. The sound is like pouring sand. It takes me back to my childhood, specifically my tenth birthday when I was allowed to bring ten girlfriends out to eat with me. It was the best birthday ever.

“Tella, what’s that?”

“Salt, pretty cool, huh?”

“Can I touch it?”

“I don’t see why not.” I turn to Ash, “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, I’ll get us a table.”

“Ask for one by the window, the view of the mountains is incredible.”

He kisses me on my cheek, and I catch more than one woman watching the interaction with envy. Sexiest man alive, ladies, and he’s all mine.

Cannon is sticking his hand in the pouring salt when I catch up with him. Before I can stop him, he licks his finger. I shudder, yuck, that salt is probably recycled through the display hundreds of times a day.

“It’s really salt!” he yells, and I shush him gently.

“Gotta keep it down, buddy, we’re inside now, okay?”

“Okay, but, Tella, it’s real salt,” he whispers as loud as he can.

I smile and watch him enjoy the giant salt pouring display.”

“Table’s ready, the host saw you and got us right in, you must be famous,” Ash says with his chin on my shoulder and his hands sliding around my waist.

“I’m not the sexiest woman alive, but I have been coming here since I was Cannon’s age so I may have a little pull.”

“You’re my sexiest woman alive, and that’s all that counts.”

I turn my face to his and side kiss his mouth. “Thanks.”

“Anytime. Come on I’m starving, let's eat.”

Cannon yanks his hand out of the salt when he sees me catching him and smiles the most adorable sheepish smile. No way was this kid is as bad as everybody says, no way.

On our way to the table, we pass a mother with three small children, two of which are fighting over a red crayon. When one boy screeches I had it first at the top of his lungs I jump. Holy shit, that sound should be illegal. I think I’m deaf in one ear.

The mother gives us an apologetic nod when we go by, and I smile at her like it didn’t bother me one bit.

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg,” Ash says pulling out my chair for me when we arrive at our table. The hostess hands us our menus and tells us our waiter’s name will be Brad, before leaving.

“Tip of what iceberg?” I ask.

“Meltdown madness, something I’m glad I don’t have to deal with anymore.”

I glance back and forth between the three kids who are climbing in and out of their chairs and Cannon. “Did you used to do things like that?”

“Uh huh.”

“I’ve never seen you act that way.”

“You’re my friend.”

“Yes, I am, but those kids shouldn’t act like that.”

He opens his package of crayons and starts to color on the kid’s menu. “They got a mommy. I don’t got a mommy.”

“Is that why you used to… yell?” I don’t want to label him naughty when I’ve never seen him act that way, but I've sure as hell heard him holler.

“Yeah, but now I got you, and you’re like a mommy.”

My heart turns to mush, and I look at Ash. He’s looking at his son like he’s seeing him for the first time. Cannon wanted the unconditional love of a mommy, not the fake attention of a nanny. All those years of acting like a holy hell-raiser were because he wanted a mom, just like I thought.

I reach out and lay my hand on Cannon’s back. “Thanks, buddy, that’s nice of you to say.”

And in true kid form, he shrugs and asks if he can have waffles for dinner. “Sure, they have really good ones here, you’ll like them.”

He stops coloring and snaps his head up, “Are they salty?”

I laugh, and Ash smiles, “No, they’re sweet, like you.” He smiles with pride for a moment and returns to coloring.

“How long do we have to go without you again?” Ash asks reaching across the table to take my hand.

“Somebody’s anxious to go home.”

“Well, it’s obvious that we can’t survive without you,” he says nodding in Cannon’s direction.

“True, you can’t. But seriously, I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing here. My mom wanted everybody to come, but now she doesn’t know what to do with us. My sister has two months left before she graduates college and she’s sitting here in a nasty hotel room spinning her wheels. She needs to get back to school, my brother’s moving in with his girlfriend and my parents think I’m homeless and jobless like they are. But I’m not, and I can’t help them financially, so being here is pointless other than providing moral support.”

“Are you sure they wouldn’t accept some help from me? Now that they’ve had a couple of days crammed in a hotel room together maybe they would consider it?”

“Honestly, I don’t think my daddy would accept help from anyone even if they were getting evicted from that hotel. He’s stubborn and proud and pigheaded. My mama’s more of a businessperson than he is, she could probably figure a way out of this mess. But she’s also a big-time Christian, and she does what daddy says no matter what.”

“She’d live on the streets with him if it came down to that?”

“Yep, I think so. Crazy, I know.”

“I guess all you can do is stick around for a couple of days and give them support. Then tell them you’ve got an awesome job opportunity that you can’t pass up. Maybe by then, they will see it as one less mouth to feed, and they won’t put up a fight.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

The waitress stops by to take our order, and we all decide on waffles for dinner. I’m pretty sure Ash would rather have steak and potatoes, but Cannon and I are persuasive when we work together.

“Look, Cannon, the sun’s going down behind the mountains, isn’t it beautiful?” I ask. He looks up from his picture of a dinosaur and gasps. “It’s like a fireball.”

“You’re right, buddy. The sun is exactly that, a big ball of fire.”

“It’s gonna burn the mountain when it gets inside.”

“It’s not really going inside the mountain, it just looks like that. The earth is turning and when the sun goes down the earth is turning away from it for a little while so we can have dark to sleep.”

“Oh, I get it.”

I sit back in my seat and smile with satisfaction. Ash nudges my foot under the table to get my attention. “A natural.”

I’m starting to believe him. Maybe I am a natural teacher? I always saw myself as a rough around the edges woman who didn’t have much in the way of maternal instincts. But being around Cannon has shown me a softer more compassionate side of myself I didn’t know existed.

“Maybe so.”

On the way back to the hotel in the limo, with Cannon’s head in my lap and Ash’s arm wrapped around my shoulders, I feel at peace like I’m home where I belong.

When I kiss them goodbye around the corner from the motel, where my family is staying, I feel like a fish out of water again. I want to care about the ranch, I really do. I wish I could be like my little sister Charlotte. She lives and breathes for ranch life. She loves the animals so much she’s been known to communicate with them. She has worked for years to be a veterinarian so she can be an asset to the family and work on the ranch. The ranch that’s not there anymore.

I want to help my family but as the old saying goes, you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make them drink. My dad’s the horse, and there’s no way he’s gonna drink if he thinks the water is charity.

Only a miracle is going to save them now, and I’m damn sure not that miracle. All I want is to go back to Ash’s and begin my new life. And it’s not because he lives in billionaire luxury. I mean, that's nice and all, but money isn’t what attracts me, it’s the people, two people… my people.

I want to wake up in Ash’s bed wrapped in his arms every day. I want to take care of Cannon and teach him everything I know. And then I want to start college so I can teach him more. But right now I’m headed back to a tiny motel room to sleep in a full-size bed with my sister, while my brother sleeps on the floor snoring like a lumberjack, and my parents squeeze into another full-size bed.

At the motel, I stand in front of door #8 and fumble for the key in my purse. It’s not a key card like 99% of hotels and motels use these days. It’s an actual key on a ring, and of course, it’s worked its way to the depths of my purse because it’s raining.

I’m getting soaked when my mom opens the door. I look up with my hair dripping on my face and tears rolling down my cheeks. I’m not crying because of the stupid rain, although, it isn’t helping.

I am frustrated. Frustrated that my daddy is so damn stubborn, frustrated that it took me all these years to admit that I don’t want to work on the ranch, and frustrated because the damn key is lost in my purse. I’m also disgusted with myself for not being devastated that our home, a house that has been standing on the same hill for over one hundred years, is gone forever.

She pulls me in and wraps me in her arms mistaking my emotional outburst for grief over the loss of our ranch.

“Oh, honey, I know, it’s gonna be alright. The Lord will provide, he always does. He wouldn’t have saved us from the twister if he didn’t have a purpose for us down here on his great green earth.”

I kick the door shut and mumble into her shoulder, “I know, Mom, I’m sorry I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t cry about shit.”

“Language, young lady,” she says correcting my curse. She wipes my tears with her thumbs and looks at me all sappy and sympathetic like she’s not the one who’s homeless and penniless.

I wonder if Ash is right, maybe telling them I’m taken care of will ease some of their stress? No, I think it’s the other way around. Daddy was outraged when I told him I was staying with Ash for a week at his place. He’s a good man and a good daddy, but he’s a little on the overprotective side when it comes to his daughters. I’m not up for a repeat of that conversation again tonight.

The need for a cigarette is suddenly overwhelming. Funny how that only happens when I’m around my family, along with my filthy mouth, my bad habits bloom in their negative energy. I feel like a caged animal stuck in here with three other people, soon to be four when Charlotte comes back. I can’t smoke in the room, and it’s pouring outside. There’s got to be some shelter somewhere.

“Sorry, Mama, I’m going to smoke, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Stella, it’s raining cats and dogs out there, you can’t go out in that,” Mama says.

“You’ll never get your smoke lit in that weather, better have a seat and wait it out,” Daddy says from his chair that’s pulled up close to the tiny thirteen-inch television. He’s been sitting there watching The Price as Right since I arrived this morning and from the sounds of it, that’s about all he does lately.

“I’ll be okay.” I turn out of my mom’s arms and open the door to run back into the rain.

Across the street I duck into the only bar in Redwater, Drink. Nobody thinks twice about my running mascara or dripping hair in here. It’s the middle of the week, and the only patrons are hard-core drinkers who have no problem braving a storm for a beer and a cigarette.

I plop down on a stool at the end of the bar and pull out my Newports. “Stella, haven’t seen you in here for a while. I hear your place got the worst of the twister. I’m really sorry.” Gus says from behind the dingy bar. He’s the bartender at Drink, and the waiter, owner, and occasionally the entertainment when he does a shot for a shot marathon with one of his regulars.

I pop my cigarette in my mouth and light it while I talk, “Hey, Gus, yeah, everything’s gone, I can’t believe it.”

“You want a shot? It’s on the house.”

“Since I don’t have a house anymore?” I say and laugh. I know it’s not funny but I’m in a weird mood, and it strikes me as hilarious.

Gus wrinkles his bulbous nose and looks at me like I’ve lost my marbles. He grabs a bottle of whiskey from the top shelf in the back where all the pretty bottles are lined up under a fancy light against a mirror.

Those bottles are the only pretty things in this bar. It’s no secret that Gus spends all his earnings on alcohol and cable TV for his regulars. He lives in a room in the back, for him every day is another party. His friends/customers show up around noon every day, and they watch sports and drink until closing time.

I inhale a long drag of menthol-flavored tobacco and look around while Gus slides a glass down the bar, “Whiskey neat for the lady.”

“Thanks, Gus.”

“No problem, it’s a double of the good stuff, oughta make you feel a little better.

I smile a weak smile and take another drag of my cigarette, the first one in almost forty-eight hours.

This is where people in Redwater meet. It’s the only place to go out and let your hair down and tie one on. God, no wonder I’m still single at thirty years old. 50% of the people in here tonight don’t have their front teeth, and the other fifty are related to each other.

Two days ago I was swimming in Ash Pride’s indoor pool, with servants hovering around, and today I’m… well, I’m here. No wonder I feel like I’m on the verge of a breakdown.

I gulp my whiskey and wince when it burns like fire all the way down into my belly full of waffles. Not the best combo, I’m sure, especially when I'm on the tail end of a weird virus that made me puke my guts up.

I told Ash I’m not an emotional drinker and I wasn’t lying. I have never tried to drown my sorrows in alcohol but I think I’m about to tonight “Another, Gus, I’ll pay for this one.”

“Not to worry, honey, nobody can afford this stuff anyway. I may as well give it to a pretty thing like you.”

“You’ve never called me pretty before, Gus.”

“You never came in here lookin’ like you needed a compliment before. You been through hell I expect. Anybody been through hell deserves a compliment, and you’re one of the prettiest girls in Redwater, ain't that right, boys?” he yells, and six or seven members of his posse throw a hand in the air and yell “Here, here!”

“Thanks, Gus, you’re sweet.” He smiles and slides me another double.

I’m already a little lightheaded from smoking my cigarette too fast and chugging whiskey but I down the second one anyway. It doesn’t burn as much as the first, so I do the dumbest thing possible and accept a third.

An hour later or maybe two, I don’t know, I’m laying my head on the bar staring at the television closing one eye to see if it helps to clear my vision, it doesn’t. I try the other and stuff my purse under my head as a pillow.

My pillow’s vibrating, I’m pretty damn drunk, but I know it’s not supposed to do that.

“I think your purse is ringin’, honey,” Gus says removing my glass and wiping underneath it with a rag that’s dirtier than the water ring my glass was leaving.

“You need soast, coas, the things under the glass…” I slur.

“Coasters?”

“Yes!” I yell and slam my hand down on the bar. How’d he know that and why can’t I say it?

“I got ‘em, honey, but this old bar’s seen better days.”

“True that.”

“Your purse is still doing stuff, better see who’s callin’.”

I lift my head up and wait for the room to stop moving. When I can, I rifle through my fifty-pound purse and locate my glowing phone.

I look at the screen and squint. It’s dark in here, and I’m drunk as hell. “I can’t see shit,” I mumble to myself, and press the answer button.

“Stella?”

“Yuh.”

“I’ve been trying to call you for an hour, are you okay?”

“Yup, A-Okay, Mr. Sexy.”

“Stella? Have you been drinking?”

“Yup, an smokin’, too. Got six butts right here… butts ha ha, six butts is a lotta butts,” I laugh but somehow the joke turns sad, and I end up crying.

“Oh my God, Stella, where are you? I’m coming to get you.”

“Nah, you don gotta do that… Cam, Candon…”

“Cannon, and if you can’t even pronounce his name I’m damn sure coming to get you. Tell me where you are right now.”

“Drink.”

“Stella, I’m not playing around. I don’t like my women drunk, and you’re my woman, so tell me where you are or I’ll go to the motel and ask your parents.”

“No, no, no, don tell them, I’m tryin’ to tell you, Drink.”

He sighs heavily and pauses, “Are you in a bar?”

“Uh huh, Drink.”

“Christ, put the bartender on the phone.”

“Okay, but he’s gonna tell ya the…”

“Put. Him. On.”

Geesh, why’s he so cranky?

I smack the bar with the palm of my hand to get Gus’s attention. “Gus, you gotta talk to my boyfriend.”

“You gotta boyfriend, honey?”

“Uh huh. Here.” I thrust the phone toward him, and he takes it reluctantly.

“Um, Gus here, what can I do you for?”

I wait and watch while Gus listens to whatever Ash is telling him. “Drink, that’s the name of my place, it’s across the street from the Piggly Wiggly and the Motel Six.” He listens again and hands the phone back to me.

“Ash?” I say holding the phone up to my ear.

“He hung up, honey. He’s comin’ to get cha. Bossy boyfriend ya got there, you okay going with him?”

“He’s coming?”

“Yep, sounded kinda ticked you were drinking, told me to stop serving ya.”

“Pfft, he’s not comin here, Cam, Cando, Cannon’s sleepin’.”

“Who?”

“His kid.”

“Ah, got you a daddy, huh? I never saw you having kids.”

This upsets me, probably more so because I’m toasted, but it really makes me mad. “I’m good with kids,” I say sliding off the barstool. The room takes a serious spin, and I have to hold onto the sticky wood of the bar to keep from landing on my ass.

“Stella, honey, I didn’t mean nothin’ by that. Come on, sit back down till he gets here, he’s gonna kick my ass if you got a scratch on ya.”

“I havta pee.” I blink hard trying to make things hold still but it’s no use, Drink has become a tilt-a-whirl ride, and I can’t get off.

“Okay, lemme help ya, just a sec, hold still now till I get over there.” I grip the bar with one hand and place my other hand flat on the stool to keep my balance but I’m leaning hard to my left, or is it my right? “Fuck, Gus, I’m drunk as fuck.”

His arm slips around my waist, and I let go and fall against him. “Yep, honey, guess you are. I wasn’t payin’ much attention, thought you could hold your liquor better than this.”

“Why?”

“Why what, honey?”

“Why did you think that?”

We’re walking now, but I think he’s doing most of the walking and I’m mostly leaning. “I guess I think of you as one of the good ol’ boys, a ranch hand, and ranch hands drink a lot.”

“I don’t drink and Ima be a teacher.”

“Oh yeah? Well good for you, honey. We’re here. You want me to take you in?”

The hallway is dark, and I’m still spinning, so I accept his help into the stall. When he’s gone, I drop my purse on the floor and pull down my pants. After ping-ponging against the walls, my ass hits the seat, and I start to pee. Peeing would feel so good if I didn’t suddenly have to hurl.

“Stella?” I hear Ash say from the hall. Oh my God, he did come.

“Yup.”

“Unlock the stall.” Uh oh, he sounds mad. I’ve never seen mad Ash. Sexy Ash, sweet Ash, loving, kind, compassionate, and a little bossy Ash, but not mad.

“Yur mad.”

“Yeah, darlin’, I’m mad, now unlock the fucking stall.”

“Nah, I’m good.” I don’t want to see mad Ash, he sounds scary.

“Stella Marie Deardon, you better open this damn door or I’ll break it down. Do I have to do a count down like I do with my four-year-old?”

“Camdon?”

“Cannon! For fuck’s sake, Stella, stop trying to say his name and open the door so I can help you.”

Did I say his name wrong? Must have, he’s yelling about it. Vomit creeps up my esophagus and sits there waiting for me to make a move so it can come spewing out.

“Jusa minute.”

“Stella, now.”

“Ima throw up.”

“That’s it.” Bang! He kicks the door. Bang! He kicks it again and the wood splinters. I don’t want Ash to break Gus’s bathroom, so I take hold of the toilet paper roll and pull myself forward enough to flick the lock.

He opens the door, and I stare up at his enraged beautiful face.”

“Hi.” He shakes his head and kneels down in front of me. I frown and lean back. He’s moving fast, or it seems like he’s moving fast, I don’t know.

“Why did you drink so much?”

“I din mean to, jus happened.”

“I asked you if you were an emotional drinker and I distinctly remember you saying you weren’t.”

I try to shake my head but stop and roll my eyes back into my head reaching out to hold onto his shoulders for support.

“I’m not, don be mad, Ash, please,” I whimper.

“Too late, I’m already mad. We have to get out of here, Cannon is in the limo with the driver, and I don’t want to leave him out there too long.”

“Oh God, he’s gonna see me.”

“Yep, he is, and he’s not going to understand why you’re acting like a fool, so you better come up with something quick to tell him.”

I look at him squinting in the dark bathroom stall. “I’m drunk.”

“Yes, that’s fairly obvious.”

Hot tears prick at the back of my eyes. Ash is working on pulling up my panties when he sees them begin to well. He shakes his head back and forth. “Oh, no you don’t. Don’t you go cryin’ and making me feel sorry for you. You tied one on, and now you get to suffer the consequences.”

I can’t help it. I hate to cry but, the tears spring from my eyes and I start to sob. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I fall against his chest, and his tight muscles relax. He rubs my back and says soothing things to me that I can’t decipher through my crying.

The crying brings my nausea back to the forefront of my current situation. I stand up, turn around, and throw up in the toilet with my pants around my knees and Ash’s arms holding me steady.

If I weren’t smashed, I’d be mortified, but for now being inebriated is working to my benefit. I have no shame when Ash turns me around, works my jeans back up over my thighs, and washes my mouth off with a paper towel.

“Do you think you can make it to the car without another go around?”

He’s holding me in his arms ready to carry me to the car. I look up and him with my face still plastered against his chest and shrug. I still feel like crap, and I can’t guarantee I’m done being sick.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” he mumbles. I close my eyes when he walks through the bar, not because I’m embarrassed, because I’m dizzy as hell and it helps to close my eyes.

“She comes in here again, you are not to serve her, got it?” I hear him say to Gus on our way out.

“Sure thing, Mr. Pride.”

Outside the bar, the air is cool and clean. There's no smoke, no stale stench of vomit or alcohol. I breathe deep and say a prayer that Cannon is asleep when we get into the car. I open one eye and watch the blurry driver open the door to the limo.

Cannon bursts out of the car yelling of course, “Tella! Daddy, why you got Tella like that?”

“She’s sick, buddy, scoot over so I can get her inside,” Ash says.

I feel the soft leather of the seat against my back and open my eyes to Cannon a mere foot from my face, checking me over like his daddy just did a few minutes ago.

“You’re sick?” he asks, justifiably suspicious of his father’s excuse. He just saw me get carried out of a bar and I stink of booze, cigarettes, and puke.

“Too much to drink, sorry, buddy, I do stupid stuff sometimes.”

Honesty being the best policy, I give it to him straight and it works. He steps back to his seat facing me and sits down to put on his seatbelt.

“Me, too.”

“Huh?”

“I do stupid stuff sometimes.”

“We all do, but drinking too much is dangerous, and Stella won’t do it again,” Ash says.

“I’ll try.”

“You’ll do more than try. And you need to quit smoking, too, it’s a nasty habit and I know you can go without, I’ve seen you do it for days at a time.”

I loll my head against the seat to face him. “So bossy,” I say rolling my eyes and regretting it right away. Rolling my eyes makes my head hurt and my stomach churn.

“I am the boss, you’ve got that right.”

I roll my head facing forward again so I can see Cannon. “He’s not nice tonight,” I say with exaggerated animation.

Cannon snickers until Ash gives him a look. His smile fades and eyes widen when he shrinks back into his seat away from scary daddy. I love to see him smile and Ash’s squelching of his little kid light pisses me off.

I swing my arm out and whack Ash in the chest with the back of my hand, “You can be mean ta me but not him, he dint do nothing, did ya, buddy?” His smile returns, albeit not as bright, and Ash grabs ahold of my wrist.

“I wasn’t being mean, there’s a difference between mean and stern, and I'm stern. I don’t like it when people I care about get out of control when I’m not around.”

“So I can get drunk with you?”

“Yes, as long as it’s not a regular thing.”

The limo pulls to a stop in front of Ash’s hotel instead of my parent’s motel. “You gotta take me home.”

“Really? And where might that be?”

Jerk, that’s a low blow. He knows what I mean. He's only “stern” because I’m drunk. “Shut up,” I snap.

His eyebrows shoot up into his hairline and Cannon’s eyes bulge out of his head.

“I’m going to let that go because you’re drunk.”

“Good idea.”

The driver exits the car and rounds the front to open our door. Limos are stupid. I can’t believe people pay someone else to drive them around and open and close the door.

Ash steps out and reaches in to scoop me up. I would protest and demand to walk on my own, but I'm positive that I can’t. I stuff my face into his chest for the walk of shame through the lobby, but peek out and see Cannon walking next to us with his hand in Ash’s belt loop.

It's an effective way to keep him close when there are no hands to hold. When we reach his room, Ash orders Cannon into his bathroom to brush his teeth while he carries me into an adjoining room.

“Two rooms?” I ask still slurring my words.

“I called and asked for the adjoining room when I left to come and get you. Cannon won’t be able to sleep if you’re up and down getting sick all night.”

That’s very considerate of him. He’s a good daddy, even if he’s scary sometimes.

In the room, he heads straight for the bathroom instead of the bed, where I want to be. “I don’t have to puke.”

“That’s okay.”

“I don’t have to pee either.”

“That’s okay, too.”

“Why are we…” I don’t get to finish my question when Ash steps into the tub fully clothed. He turns on the water, cold water, only cold.

I shriek and squirm in his arms, but it’s no use, even if I weren’t handicapped by my drunkenness he’s three times my size and a hundred times stronger.

“Ash! It’s cold, let me out!” I scream as we stand under the icy spray getting soaked to the skin.

“I don’t want you to pass out. This’ll wake you up.”

“I’m fucking awake!” I yell, sputtering water and pounding my fists against his chest.

“Good, so am I. If you hadn’t gone and decided to be Whiskey Jo we could both be in our warm beds right now talking on the phone or texting.”

Shivering takes over my body, head to toe I’m shaking like a leaf in a hurricane and my teeth are chattering. “I’mmm too cccold, Ash. Ppplleease get me outtt.”

He smacks the handle down, and the freezing water stops. He steps out of the shower and sits me on the vanity where he undresses me. The bathroom is spinning a hundred times worse than the bar or the hotel lobby. Ash fades in and out of sight as I grip the edge of the vanity and try to keep from falling on my face.

When I’m naked and wrapped in a towel, he carries me to one of two queen-size beds and tucks me in still shivering like crazy. He yanks the comforter and blanket off the extra bed and covers me with those, too.

“I’m going to change, don’t go anywhere. If you have to throw up, there’s a trash can right here.” He points at the floor next to the bed, where I am assuming a trash can is waiting to catch my vomit. Where in the hell does he think I’ll go? I can’t even walk.

“I have to go check on Cannon and get him back into bed.”

“Kay.”

“Don’t go to sleep.”

“Why?” I whine and close my eyes.

“Because I want to talk to you before you do.”

I roll my head away from him and moan. “I don wanna talk to you if you’re gonna be mean.”

He smoothes my hair away from my face with a rough, calloused hand and leans in to speak into my ear. “I'm not mean. I like you, a lot, maybe more than like, and I don’t want anything to happen to you. That’s what I was going to say. Go ahead and sleep if you can, I’ll be back.”

He starts to stand, but I grab at him catching the edge of his shirt. “Ash?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I love you,” I say and close my eyes. He doesn’t say anything; instead, he stands next to me until I doze off into fitful nauseous sleep.

I told him I loved him. God, I hope I remember that in the morning.