Page 16 of Cruising with You (Swenson Sweethearts)

Gage

M y knee is bouncing like a freaking jackhammer beneath the table as I wait for Gem and Nora to meet us for brunch.

“You sure she’ll be here?” I ask Conner.

“Yeah, man. She said ten in the morning, and it’s ten in the morning. Give her a break.”

“Sorry.” I sit up a little straighter, then scan the packed dining room. Apparently, we weren’t the only ones who thought it would be a great idea to grab brunch.

“What happened between you two last night, anyway?”

My gaze darts over to him before I clear my throat. “What do you mean, what happened to us? Did she, uh…did she say something?”

‘Cause I sure as hell would like to know what the hell happened, I think to myself.

“She grabbed Gem as the singles’ workshop was wrapping up. She looked upset.”

I don’t miss the accusation in his voice, but I ignore it and continue searching for the brunette who’s stolen all my logic since the moment I laid eyes on her. “I dunno what happened. I’ll talk to her, though.”

“Good.” He opens his mouth to say something else when Gem appears through the entrance. Nora isn’t anywhere to be seen.

I fight the panic that threatens to take hold as Gem sways toward us.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. I was just checking in with Nora. I think she caught the flu or something.”

“Shit, that sucks,” Conner replies before wrapping his arm around her slim waist and pecking her on the lips.

As she sits down, she says, “Yeah, she didn’t look too great when I checked on her. Maybe she ate something bad? I don’t know. She wanted me to let you guys know that she’s sorry she couldn’t make it.”

“Does she need anything?” I interject, surprising myself with my concern as much as them.

“Umm….” Gem thinks for a few seconds before shrugging. “I was going to grab her some toast or a banana or something after brunch––”

My chair squeaks as it scrapes across the hardwood floors. “I got it. Have fun.”

“You sure?” Gem returns. You’d think I had been replaced with a three-headed dog with how Gem is staring at me.

“Yeah. Not a big deal. See you guys later.”

Grabbing a banana, an English muffin, and a little sample of grape jelly, I dodge between a few people, then rush down the ship toward the sleeping quarters.

There’s an urgency in my steps that makes my gut tighten, and I can’t quite put my finger on why I’m feeling so anxious.

Maybe it’s because of how we left things.

Maybe it’s because I hate being around sick people, but I hate the idea of Nora being alone even more.

Maybe it’s because Dr. Lorringer got in my head, and I can’t get all the questions she stirred up to leave me alone.

My knuckles turn white as I hold onto the railing and take the stairs two at a time down to her room, but my pace slows when I reach the correct floor. Am I really willingly going to enter a sick person’s room all because I feel bad they’re alone and want them to feel better?

With a groan, I look left and right down the endless corridor, then take a deep breath. I’m really doing this. The hall that leads to her room feels like it’s closing in on me as I juggle the banana and English Muffin from one hand to the other. Door after door, I search for her room number.

Three-Two-Zero-Four.

After tapping my knuckles against the thick metal door, I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

No one answers, so I try again, then rock back on my heels.

Still, there’s only silence.

What if something’s wrong? What if something happened? Is she okay? The questions hit me from all sides as my anxiety peaks.

“Nora?” I call, my voice sounding gruff. Glancing over my shoulder, I confirm I’m not disturbing anyone in the hall. It’s empty. “Nora? It’s me. Gage. Are you okay in there?”

Another few seconds of silence tick by before the door creaks softly as it begins to open, and I release all the pent-up oxygen in my lungs.

She’s okay.

When it opens fully, I want to laugh.

Nora’s dark, wavy hair looks like a rat’s nest on the right side of her head, and her eyes are barely halfway open as she squints up at me.

“Gage?” she croaks. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard you were sick.”

Waving her finger through the air like a celebratory flag, she mutters, “Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner.”

As I witness how adorable she looks even when she’s obviously sicker than a dog, I bite back a chuckle before offering, “I brought you some breakfast. Maybe it’ll help settle your stomach?”

Her expression sours as she eyes the food warily.

“You don’t have to eat anything unless you’re feeling up to it. Would some Tylenol or something help? I can go check out the gift shops….” My voice trails off as an overwhelming sense of helplessness crashes into me.

She looks like shit. Adorable shit. But shit, nonetheless.

With her head resting against the doorjamb, she shrugs one of her shoulders. The movement causes her oversized, white T-shirt to slip and exposes a few inches of her freckled skin. It looks a little red from all the sunshine yesterday.

“I don’t think it’s the flu. I think I ate something that didn’t sit well.”

“What could you have eaten?”

She thinks for a second before rolling her eyes. “A freaking brownie.”

The irony isn’t lost on me, and her gaze narrows as she takes in my amused smirk.

“Not funny,” she bosses, daring me to argue with her.

“It’s a little funny.”

“No, it’s not.”

I can’t help but poke the bear one more time. “Kinda is. But you can argue with me later. Let’s get you back into bed, okay?”

Without waiting for her to invite me in, I guide her back into the closet-sized room, then help her slide between the sheets.

Once she’s comfortable, she studies me carefully. “What are you really doing here, Gage?”

“I dunno,” I answer honestly. “I just feel like you shouldn’t be down here by yourself. Especially when you feel like shit.”

“I’ve been sick before and have battled it by myself, ya know.”

“Yeah, but that was before you gave me your pin for the week,” I counter with a wink while pointing to the red tag on my shirt.

“That pin doesn’t mean anything, Gage.” I can’t decide if the defeat in her tone is because she’s been puking for the last twelve hours or if it’s because of this stupid tag. Tilting my head, I study her in hopes of finding out which one it is but come up empty.

“It means something to me,” I offer after a few seconds of silence.

“You don’t need to do this, you know,” she mutters while rolling onto her side to get more comfortable.

Slipping the oversized T-shirt back up her arm to cover her bare shoulder, I follow it with the scratchy white sheets that came with the room. “I know I don’t. But it’s not a big deal. When was the last time you puked?”

“I don’t know…it’s all a blur.” Nora laughs pathetically before closing her eyes and sighing. “All I know is that I’m exhausted.” Fidgeting, she rolls onto her other side then moans.

“You should uh…you should try to get some rest,” I tell her, still feeling helpless.

“It’s been hard for me to sleep. These pillows are kind of crappy.”

Rounding the bed, I set the food I’d brought her on the edge of the mattress, then climb in beside her and pull her onto my chest before she can protest.

“Sleep,” I order.

“It’s your last day. You should be up by the pool drinking Pina Coladas––”

“Nora. Sleep.”

She rests her head back down against my pec for about two seconds before raising it again. “But I feel weird sleeping––”

“Nora. Seriously. Go to sleep. I’m a Leo, remember? If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.”

Chewing on her lower lip, she peeks up at me. “You sure?”

The vulnerability that shines through is staggering, and even though I don’t know what to do with it, I choke out, “Yeah. Positive.”

Seconds later, her muscles melt into me, and she slips into unconsciousness.

Unsure of what to do with myself or how I even got myself into this position in the first place, I look around Nora’s room and notice how cluttered it is.

It’s not a mess by any means, but her outfit from the night before is tossed in the corner near her suitcase, and her shoes are lying in the center of the room.

It’s like she felt so sick that she couldn’t even find the effort to keep her otherwise tidy room in check.

A few tissues are wadded up and thrown haphazardly onto the minuscule nightstand beside the bed, so I grab them with my hand that isn’t tucked around Nora and toss them in the garbage can across the room like a seasoned basketball player.

I replace the used tissues on the nightstand with the food I’d grabbed from the buffet.

I wouldn’t want them to get lost in the sheets.

Hopefully, when she wakes up, she’ll feel like eating.

She’s already a tiny little thing. She needs to start keeping food down, or I might need to get the staff involved.

Could she need an IV or something?

I glance down at her again. She looks okay. She looks better than okay. Even without any makeup on and her hair a tangled mess, she’s beautiful.

And damn, her lashes are long. How did I never notice the smattering of freckles along the bridge of her nose?

Does she always sleep with her mouth slightly parted like that?

Her breath doesn’t smell like puke, so I’m going to assume she brushed her teeth after the last time she lost her cookies in the toilet.

Even with the rat’s nest on her head that replaced her long brown hair, she’s still the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.

I squeeze my arm a little tighter around her, then close my eyes to get some sleep. I’m not tired or anything, but there’s a weird sense of peace when I’m holding her, and I’d be a fool to let it go.

To let her go.

I’m not sure how long I’ve slept, but my arm is officially numb. Carefully, I slide it out from beneath Nora’s head as she snores softly, then get to my feet.