Page 73 of Louder Than Words

She wasn’t crying. She was throwing up.

I quickly move the waste bucket—don’t need my clumsy ass knocking it over—and sit beside Allie. “What happened?” I ask, eyes scanning her still-red face.

Ana leans over to look at me. “Let me know if you need me?”

I nod, not taking my eyes off Allie.

Without another word, Ana slips out, the door closing gently behind her.

Once she’s gone, Allie shrugs and takes a deep breath. “I don’t know, honestly. I think the turkey just didn’t sit right,” she says, still sounding weak.

“Alright,” I say, standing and pulling the blankets out. Then I stand before her, both hands out, waiting for her to take them.

“What are you doing?”

I nod toward the bed. “Making you lay down. Because I know you and you’re about to get up and find something to do.”

She scoffs. “I was not,” she denies, her mouth hanging open.

“Come on, love. You’re gonna yak again if you keep your mouth open like that.” I chuckle.

“Jaxon,” she tries to scold.

I shake my head firmly. “Nope. I’m not listening until you are in this bed with the blanket properly around you.” I shrug. “Sorry.”

She finally caves, sliding her hands into mine as I help her under the covers. Of course, she doesn’t make it easy, huffing every three seconds, just enough for me to start wondering where Charlotte picked it up from.

But that’s Allie. Stubborn as hell. And I wouldn’t change a damn thing.

I press a quick kiss to her forehead and nudge her water closer to her side of the bed, then quietly turn away. I almost make it out of there without a fight.

Almost.

“But, Jax…” she says behind me, and I can already hear the rustle of her sitting up.

I laugh under my breath, turning back. “Allie, I swear to God.”

I drop onto the edge of the bed beside her. She tilts her head at me, fingers toying with the edge of the comforter.

“There’s still stuff that needs to be picked up.”

I shake my head, smiling. “No, there’s not, love. James and I took care of everything. You need to lie down. Please?”

“Okay… fine,” she finally sighs.

“Thank you,” I murmur, running my thumb along her cheek. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

I don’t move until she actually lays back, watching her like she might try and sneak out of bed the second I blink. Only when her head hits the pillow do I start to inch toward the door, practically walking backwards just to make sure she stays put. Then I turn, reach for the doorknob—

“Jax?”

I let out a long breath as one hand goes straight to the bridge of my nose. “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” she says, softly, maybe even a little hesitant.

I offer her a smile, because I get it. Of course she’s putting up a fight. She’s never had anyone to take care of her—not really,anyway. Trevor was basically her third kid, so yeah, of course she thinks she still has to handle everything, even when she’s sick.

But not anymore.