Kayla hadn’t slept well. After hunting up cough drops for Jason in the middle of the night, she’d tried to grab some rest. She and Erik had come to a silent agreement, taking the second bed so Jason could sleep comfortably on his own. But she woke every time he moved, every time he went too long without moving. Her brain kept replaying everything -- the blood he’d coughed onto his shirt, the flushed, fevered look of his face… and of course the sleek, half-naked woman pressed against his chest.
Young. Pretty. With high, pert breasts and nary a gray hair on her head.
It was stupid. She knew this. But the relationship, as profound as it was, was still new. And Erik -- he’d been hurt. It had never crossed her mind that Jason could hurt Erik.
God, it was all so complicated. And yet, when it came down to it, so simple.
When he finally woke up, she made sure he had something to eat that wouldn’t hurt his throat, and she kissed his cheek before he left for the doctor. None of them said much. Erik was still bleary-eyed, and Jason was obviously uncomfortable both physically and in the way he wouldn’t quite meet her eyes. Kayla just didn’t know what to say.
And now all she could do was wait.
She and Erik had been waiting for a while. Randy had invaded their hotel room after spending the night with his parents. He, too, was worried. At the moment, he was sprawled across a hotel chair cradling a latte while Erik and Kayla engaged in a somewhat listless game of travel Scrabble.
“If he gives me his stupid strep, I’m gonna kick his stupid ass,” Randy muttered.
Erik gave him a sidelong look. “Why? You don’t sing.”
“‘Cause I don’t want his stupid strep?”
Erik shook his head a little. Kayla could tell he was more amused than annoyed. “Just be glad he never gave you his stupid syphilis.”
“I do not want to know anything about that,” Randy shot back. Erik just chuckled and laid tiles down on the board. He had spelled “gonad.”
“Nice,” said Kayla, deciding she didn’t want to hear about the stupid syphilis, either. She frowned at her tiles. That was Scrabble for you. Never a vowel when you needed one.
She was puzzling out what she might be able to spell with her plethora of consonants when Erik’s phone buzzed with a text message. She tensed immediately, but kept her attention focused carefully on the game while he fished the phone out of his pocket and read the message.
“He’s on his way back,” Erik said, thumb-typing a reply.
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