“It wasn’t supposed to make you cry.” He kissed my head and patted my hair.
“The sign, Jack. The sign,” I blubbered into his T-shirt. “And I’ve really missed you.”
Holy hell, I need to stop crying all the time lately. Something is seriously wrong with me. I feel so out of control and unbalanced.
Jack’s thumb reached across my cheek and wiped my tears away. He leaned down, pressing his lips against mine, and my body melted into his. “I’ve missed you too. Let’s get your bag and get out of here.”
I nodded as he linked his fingers with mine. “How’s your hand feeling?”
“Good. Real good.” While we waited at the baggage claim carousel, he flexed and stretched his left hand before reaching for my small suitcase. “This it?” he asked as he pulled it off the spinning track.
“Yeah, just that.”
I don’t know why I checked it when it was small enough to carry on board. Occupational habit, maybe. Whenever I traveled for work, I always checked all my equipment and bags, so this routine was second nature to me.
“I’m getting stronger, you know,” he said, his eyebrows raised.
I flashed him a smile and squeezed his hand. “I knew you would.”
“And I gained another mile per hour on my fast-ball yesterday.” He grinned from ear to ear and my body heated with pride.
“Jack, that’s fantastic. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks, Kitten.” His face beamed with pleasure, the light brown rings closest to his pupils nearly glowing.
By the time we arrived at his hotel, my stomach betrayed me. I could barely stand up straight, it hurt so badly. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I hadn’t seen Jack in almost two weeks and now that we were together, I was sick?
“I’m sorry, Jack. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” I looked at him apologetically as we waited for the elevator.
“Don’t be sorry, just get better. Did you eat breakfast this morning?”
I shook my head, the very idea of food making me want to hurl. “No. No food.”
“I’ll order—” he started to respond before I cut him off.
“No! I don’t want anything!” I fought to keep the nothing I’d eaten inside my body as the elevator rocked to a stop. I wrapped my arm across my tummy and attempted to walk.
“I got you,” Jack said before scooping me into his arms and carrying me down the long hallway. The last time he held me like this was after I’d gotten mugged in college. Some guy had come out of nowhere and stolen my camera and beat the crap out of me. When Jack finally found me, he picked me up and walked all the way to my apartment without stopping to catch his breath or slow his pace. It was the most romantic thing ever.
He was doing the same thing now. I leaned my body into his, listening to the sound of his heart beating against his muscled chest. It seemed like we walked for hours before we arrived at his hotel room door.
“I have to put you down,” he warned before placing my feet gently on the ground. “Can you stand?”
“Yeah,” I responded, my body doubled over in pain.
He swiped his keycard, the light turned green, and the lock made a clicking sound. Jack turned the handle and held the door open with his foot as I trudged inside. I rounded the corner and fell on top of his bed, pulling my knees to my chest.
“Kitten, what happened?” he asked as he sat down next to me on the bed. He propped pillows up behind him before pulling my head on top of his legs. His fingers ran through my hair and I could feel the intensity of his stare on me.
“Honestly, I’m not sure. I just don’t feel good all of a sudden.”
“I have to leave in two hours for the field, but I don’t want to leave you like this.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine after I nap or something. Don’t worry about me.”
He let out a loud huff. “Don’t worry about you? Okay, Kitten. Sure thing. Never gonna f**king happen.”
“I just meant that I’ll be fine. I probably just need sleep and food.” I hesitated. “At some point.”
He stroked my hair, then stood up to walk over to the windows and pulled the curtains closed.
A moment later, he pressed a kiss to my cheek. Then he was gone.
My eyes opened in the darkened room, and when I turned my head to look for the alarm clock, my neck stiffened under the weight of my twisted sleeping position. How long had I been asleep?
“Jack?”
I moved my arm and the sound of paper crinkling drew my attention toward a piece of paper lying on the bedspread. It was a note from Jack.
Didn’t want to wake you. I hope you feel better. Your tickets are at will-call, but please don’t come if you don’t feel good. I mean it, Kitten. If you feel like shit, stay here! I’ll be back before you know it.
Determined to attend his game, I pushed myself to my feet. My head spun and I pressed my hand against the wall for balance. I needed water, and I knew Jack’s mini fridge would be filled with it.
Opening a bottle, I took a sip before immediately bolting to the bathroom. The water I’d just swallowed came surging back up with a vengeance. Okay, I was definitely sick. There was no way I could go to the game like this; I’d never make it through a single inning.
Reaching for my cell phone, I typed out a message to Jack, letting him know I wouldn’t be at the game. He wouldn’t get to read it until after, but at least he’d know not to look for me and would come straight back to the hotel. Hopefully by then I’d be feeling better.