45. Nurse Dog

Briar

"I'm fine," I insist, even as the houses on both sides of the block sway toward me.

Rhys makes a soothing noise in his throat as he strides along the sidewalk, then says tenderly, "Of course you are."

"I swear I am. You don't have to carry me," I say as he turns onto the block with the cottage. At least, I think that's the cottage. Is the cottage sideways now?

"We're almost there," he says.

"I can make it the rest of the way." Sure, my hands are still clammy. But you don't walk with your hands, so I should be fine.

"I know you can. But I can also carry you."

This is so embarrassing. I'm a capable woman. I can do things. I don't need to be carried, but he hasn't let me go the whole way. "I don't mind," I point out, then breathe in quickly once, twice.

Another time.

He cuts a glance down at me, a swoop of his midnight hair falling across his forehead, his brown eyes assessing. "Motion sickness is no joke, Briar. The guys should be back soon with Dramamine," he says, since he sent Hollis and Gavin to the store in town.

I curl a hand tighter around his neck, tucking my face into his chest, my breath still short, the world still tilting, my skin still cold. "Did anyone see you carry me?" I whisper.

"Are you worried someone is going to figure out what's going on?"

"No. That's not it," I say as he reaches the cottage and cuts through the yard.

"What is it, love?"

Love. I know he just says that because he's English, but it's so…mesmerizing. The way the word curls on his tongue, gusts past his lips, floats to my ear.

"I hate being sick," I mutter.

He dips his face to my forehead, grazing me with a kiss. "Me too. I get it."

"I just didn't want anyone to see me like this. Like people I work with. Or might work with. That's all."

"I don't think anyone did. I didn't walk through the town square. I took some side streets through the neighborhoods. There weren't too many people."

"Thank you," I say into his chest.

Soon, we're at the front door, and he effortlessly unlocks it with one hand, then pushes it open.

Donut barks an excited hello. Then a concerned one. Then a what the hell is going on with my person yip as Rhys carries me to the couch. Gently, he lays me down, then kneels on the floor by my side and strokes my forehead while Donut jumps onto the couch and scurries right to my face, licking me. "It's okay, honey," I tell her.

"Is it? How are you feeling?" Rhys asks.

"So much better." I paste on a smile, even though I feel out of alignment with my body and my mind, like they're fighting each other. I'm sweaty and cold, and everything's still a little fuzzy.

"Why do I not believe you?" he asks.

I wrap my arms around Donut's little body, nuzzling into her soft fur. "You believe me, don't you?"

She licks my face in concern, then whimpers, and looks up at me with the biggest, sweetest eyes ever. I can't fake it with her. Or, really, with Rhys. "I don't like anyone seeing me like this," I whisper. "It makes me feel weak."

He runs a hand over my hair. "I get it."

"Like why would someone take my classes, or get my app, or trust me to teach them if I'm the teacher who's sick?"

"Teachers get sick too," he says.

"I know…but not me. I'm the designated driver, the chaperone." And, especially, I'm the girl who was abandoned by her mom and rose up stronger, better, tougher. "Did you know I had perfect attendance in high school?"

Rhys's smile is amused, but still so kind. "I'm not at all surprised."

"I never missed a day."

As I regale him with stories of my super-responsible self, the chill in my skin starts to subside, and the edges of the world are less blurry, and seconds later, the door groans open.

"We're back. We got you some things, baby." It's Hollis, ready to make me feel better.

I try to sit up and turn to him, but Donut licks my face, wiggling against me. "You're a nurse dog," I say to her.

That earns me another lick.

"Good girl," Rhys tells the Dachshund as Hollis and Gavin join Rhys on the floor by my side. I push up for real this time.

"Dramamine," Gavin says, showing me the box. "For motion sickness."

"I've never had motion sickness before," I point out, like that'll make it go away.

"Have you ridden the Tilt-A-Whirl before?" Gavin asks.

I wince. My mom was the amusement park fan. Dad never took us after she left. Maybe amusement parks were like bouquets of flowers for him. Too much of a reminder. "Not since I was young and my mom took me. I don't remember that though, going with her," I say. "But I don't get sick in cars, or boats, or even hot-air balloons."

Gavin's brow knits. "Hot-air balloons? That's random."

"I grew up around here. It's a thing."

"Well, so is motion sickness with some rides," Gavin adds. "I looked it up. And you should take some meds, okay?"

He's a little stern, but there's real caring in his tone too.

"And you need some tea," Hollis adds, waggling a tin of herbal tea and a plastic bear full of honey. "My mom always said tea and honey make everything better."

That's so him. "I'm sure she's right."

What's really starting to make me feel better is the three of them and how they take care of me. It can't be easy since I don't want anyone to take care of me at all.

But maybe I need them to.

A few hours of rest later, I stretch my arms, pop up from the couch, and spot the guys at the kitchen table, playing cards. "I'm all better. Does anyone want to…" I jut out my hip. Wiggle my brows. "…have another lesson?"

Three men look my way as if I'm nuts.

"No. You were sick. I have a better idea for tonight," Hollis offers, then sets down his cards and heads down the hall, waving us along. "Let me show you."