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This time when Nelle finished vomiting, she began to cry. Slade turned and sat on the edge of the tub. He touched her back again, this time gently digging his fingers a little.
Losing someone is a shitty thing to experience. Losing someone to murder… shot to death… that’s a whole different feeling…
And to have it happen to both her sisters. One at a time. Not that far apart in time. The fact that Nelle was just vomiting now and starting to cry told Slade a lot about her. She wasn’t just beautiful. She was tough. The dangerous kind of tough in a woman.
Slade knew she had one hell of a story to tell. That’s why he sat there and rubbed her back while she puked and cried. Nelle couldn’t believe that this was happening. Right here. Like this. Too much whiskey. Two dead sisters.
She knew deep inside her, the chaos was only just beginning.
Chapter Thirteen
Stripped
Not knowing the full aspect of what was happening, the scene had a touch of care and romance to it. A woman not feeling the greatest, getting sick. A man next to her, rubbing her back, letting her know it was okay and she wasn’t alone.
Zoom in and it was a far cry from that.
I can’t believe you cried like that in front of Slade,Nelle thought as though she were able to pull herself from her body and yell at herself.
“I’m good now,” she finally whispered in a defeated voice.
“I think you’re far from fucking good, sweetheart.”
“Wow. I needed to hear that.”
“Come on, you have to get out of those clothes and get cleaned up.”
Nelle looked at Slade. “What?”
“No offense, but you smell like vomit. You have puke on your knees, on your pants. Some on your shirt. You’re not getting into my bed like this. Take a fucking bath and rinse off. Better yet, run the shower and just sit there for a minute or two.”
A voice in Nelle’s head told her this was a good idea. A great idea. She placed her hands on the edge of the tub and pushedherself up. She made it about three inches before the room began to spin and her hands slipped. Slade had to quickly grab her to keep her from smashing her face against the side of the tub.
“You’re toasted, sweetheart,” Slade said. “Fuck.”
“You are not going to strip me and eye fuck me and touch me,” Nelle declared.
“Not much of a choice here, Nelle. I’m going to help you stand, then undress you. I’ll stand behind you.”
“Like that makes it any better,” Nelle snapped.
“Want me to have Monte help?”
Nelle’s glossy eyes looked up at Slade. “You bastard.”
“This bastard is going to make sure you’re cleaned up, safe, protected, and that you get some sleep. You’ll thank this bastard in the morning.”
“You even so much as look at a nipple and I will gouge your eyes out,” Nelle warned.
Slade smiled. That only pissed Nelle off even more. She hated herself for being this drunk. Being this sloppy. It also didn’t help things that she forgot to eat dinner. That meant the booze hit even harder, faster.
Slade got Nelle to her feet. She looked down into the tub and saw the vomit had all gone down the drain. Then she felt Slade’s hands touch the bottom of her shirt. Her toes curled.
Even in hertoo drunk off straight whiskeystate of mind, she realized the touch of Slade. His strength. His roughness. His natural state of being.
Slade lifted her shirt, rolling it in the front to make sure the spatters of vomit didn’t rub against Nelle’s skin.
Isn’t that a sweet gesture?Nelle asked herself.
