We’ve had a busy twelve hours. We started on that float, nearly at each other’s throats. Then I kissed her. That shut us up for sure. Then everything happened with Cal and how are we still standing? How much longer can this day last?
I cringe when I glance over at her. She looks kind of pitiful standing there.
She has my towel wrapped around her like a cape, pinning it closed with her fists right under her chin. She doesn’t move. I walk out of the bathroom and rifle through the duffle bag Heather brought me. I told her to pack extra, unsure of how long I’d be staying at Cal’s, and now I’m grateful for the spare t-shirt and boxers. After I’m dressed, I bring both into the bathroom and step in front of Whitney. She seems smaller than usual.
“Are you still alive?”
“Not sure.”
“Cold?”
“Very.”
“I brought you clothes.”
She hums but makes no move to take them. Like I said, I think she’s in shock.
I bend down in front of her.
My hand touches her ankle. “May I?”
She doesn’t speak, so I reach up underneath her towel and take off her wet panties. I try to make it nonsexual. By all accounts, this should be the least sexual day with everything we have going on, but it’s Whitney, and she can stand there comatose and still, I want her. She steps out of the wet material and I grab my boxers, holding them open for her.
“They’ll be big, but maybe you can roll them up?”
No response.
I pull them up her long shapely legs. They sag on her hips, so I roll them twice. Good enough. With the t-shirt in hand, I stand back up and tug on her towel. She lets me pull it away and, with her arms at her sides, all I see is smooth ivory skin from her waist up, still flushed from the shower. A wet bra pasted over…
Jesus.
Quickly, I step forward and reach around her for the clasp of her bra, unhooking it and dragging it off her. It’s tossed on the ground and my t-shirt is yanked down over her head with a tad too much force. I might have lopped off an ear. I should be gentler, but I’m trying hard to be a gentleman here and the sooner she’s covered, the better it’ll be for the both of us.
It takes her a moment to register that she needs to put her arms through the holes. For a second, she stands there armless. I lose the fight with a smile. How can someone so damn pitiful be so damn cute?
“I’m hungry,” she says, sounding far away. Sleepy.
She finally forces her arms through the sleeves.
I nod. “Me too. I’m going to go get us dinner. Do you want to stay in here?”
As an answer, she walks out of the bathroom and heads into my room, reaching for the throw blanket on the bed so she can wrap it around herself. I hurry out into the hall, feeling rushed to get her food and to check on Cal. His doctor should be gone by now. Hopefully he’s asleep. He needs rest.
Ava’s not in the kitchen, but she’s set aside a tray of food for Whitney and me. I reheat the soup in the microwave and then carry the tray back to my room, devouring two cornbread muffins on the way. Once there, I find Whitney curled up on my armchair in the corner, head resting on her palm. Asleep.
I bet she was out the second I closed the door.
I smile and set down the tray of food before turning down my duvet and tossing a few stray pillows aside to make room for the two of us. When I lift her up off the chair, I expect her to stir, but she doesn’t make a peep. I tuck her in and carry the food out with me, heading to check on Cal.
I was right about his doctor having left already, but he’s still awake, propped up on his bed with pillows. A nurse sits in the corner, looking at her laptop, and when she sees me, she smiles and stands, leaving us.
There’s a small lamp on beside his bed, but most of the light streams into the room through the windows. Though the sun set hours ago, the streets inside Fairytale Kingdom are lined with lamps, illuminating the overnight crews who are working away: mowing the lawns, watering the flowers, emptying the trash