I quickly rose and lifted her to her feet. When she stumbled sideways, almost right into her puke, I gripped her hips. “Shit. Stay still.”

“I’m trying,” she muttered, clinging to my shoulders. “The world won’t stop spinning.”

“Can you walk?”

She lifted her chin. “Of course I can.”

“Okay.”

I let go of her, even though every instinct screamed at me to hold on tighter and never let go. She took one step and almost fell flat on her face. I caught her effortlessly, swinging her up in my arms.

Her head flopped down on my chest, and she looked anything but ready to be released. “God, it hurts.”

“I’ll take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself,” she mumbled, her eyes drifting shut.

My heart seized at the look on her face as she drifted off. She was pale and listless. Her small hand rested on my chest, right above my heart. She liked putting it there, as if she knew she owned it and was re-staking her claim. “I know you can, but I want to help you. Now rest.”

I dropped a quick kiss to her clammy forehead and headed for my bike. I almost reached it before I realized I couldn’t ride home with an unconscious Carrie on my lap. I hesitated, not sure what to do. Should I get a cab and take her back to my place? Or should I carry her up to her room and take care of her there?

I spotted Marie walking to the dorm, three girls on either side of her. They were laughing loudly, talking about a study session involving alcohol in Marie’s room. Carrie stirred at their laughter, her brow furrowing. I held her closer, kissing her temple.

“Take me home,” she muttered restlessly. She burrowed closer to me, let out a ragged sigh, and fell asleep.

Well, that settled it. Home. My home.

Walking right past my bike, I managed to call a taxi without waking Carrie. Once it arrived, I settled into the back of the cab with her curled up on my lap. I smoothed her hair off her face, studying her delicate features. Her small nose was red at the tip, and she had bags under her eyes that hinted she hadn’t been sleeping well lately. I hadn’t been either.

I missed Carrie too much.

Somehow I doubted I was the cause of her insomnia, though. More likely, it had been because she’d been hitting the books harder than usual. Midterms were coming up, so she had been preparing for those. I had seen her in the library with Lover Boy almost every day this week. Whenever she studied, Cory did too.

Fucking annoying pansy.

The cab stopped in front of my place, and I shuffled Carrie in my arms so I could reach my wallet. The cabbie eyed Carrie. “Is she dead? If so, it’ll cost extra.”

I rolled my eyes. “Glad to know humanity is still at its peak.”

“Hey, I’m just sayin’.”

“So am I.” I tossed the cash at the man. “She’s not dead. She’s sick.”

“Then get her out of my cab before she ruins it.”

I glanced pointedly at the cigarette burns covering the seat and the crack in the glass of the window. “I think it’s too late for that.”

“Whatever.” The man dismissed me with a casual flick of his wrist. “Just go.”

I was getting damned sick of people telling me to “just go,” but now wasn’t the time to address that. I had a sick Carrie on my hands—one who might explode at any given time. I opened the door, hugging her closer to my chest as I bent to get out. She jerked awake, her eyes wide. She looked…ah, fuck.

She looked green.

I picked up the pace. “Are you going to make it inside?”

She nodded frantically and squeezed her eyes shut. I practically ran to my door, unlocked it, and deposited her in front of the toilet. She waved her hand at me, clearly wanting me to leave, but I hovered in the doorway. Though my stomach demanded I do as she wished, I couldn’t leave her.

When the first tortured groan escaped her, I stopped trying to fight the inevitable. I kneeled beside her, grabbing her hair to keep it out of the path of destruction. Her body tensed, but she didn’t have a chance to tell me to go away before the vomiting started again. My own stomach twisted in reply, but I gnashed my teeth. By the time she was finished, I knew I would be throwing up today too.

I stood, my legs shaking, and wet a washcloth with warm water. She rested her cheek on her forearm, which was flung over the side of the toilet. When I came back to her side, she opened her eyes and blinked at me, a tear rolling down her face. “This sucks,” she whispered.

I dabbed the washcloth over her forehead and across her mouth. “I know.”

“Why are you doing this?” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s not in your job description, is it?”

“Knock it the hell off.” I flexed my jaw, tossing the washcloth in the corner of the bathroom. I picked her up. “I’m taking care of you, and you’re not going to stop me.”

She rested her head on my shoulder, her hand once again over my heart—which traitorously sped up. “I don’t know why you could possibly want to.”

“It should be obvious. If it’s not, I’m not sure what to say.” I lowered her to the bed and lifted the blankets until she was covered. “I’m going to go grab you some medicine. I’ll be right back.”

I headed for the bathroom and closed the door behind me. After turning on the shower, which I hoped would be loud enough to drown out the sound of what I was about to do, I fell to my knees in front of the porcelain god. I flushed the toilet, and within seconds my own stomach emptied itself.

By the time I was finished, I felt as shaky and weak as she’d looked. I flushed again, then hopped in the shower to make it look as if I’d showered instead of ralphed. I allowed myself a minute to quickly scrub down, brush my teeth, and throw a towel around my waist. Opening up the cabinet, I pulled out the Pepto-Bismol I’d bought a few weeks ago after I’d had some bad tuna.

I took a dose for myself behind the closed door, and then came out of the bathroom with hers. She was curled up on her side, her eyes open but sleepy. I sat down beside her and held out the medicine. “Here. Take this.”

“Thank you.” She sat up slowly, her gaze drifting over me. “Can you please lose the towel?”

I tensed. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to see you half naked.” She licked her lips, her stare somewhere around the level of my abs. “Not anymore.”

Liar. “Sure.”

I stood up, dropping the towel to the floor. Her indrawn breath almost made me crack a smile, but I forced myself to remain dead serious. Hell, I even stretched my arms over my head, letting her look her fill for however long she’d like.

“Finn.”

I looked over at her, butt-assed naked. “Yeah?”

“You’re naked.”

“I know.” I looked down at myself. “You said to lose the towel. You also said you didn’t want to see me half naked anymore, so here you go.”

She set down her empty cup on the nightstand with a trembling hand, but her lips quirked as if a smile was trying to escape, but she didn’t want to let it. I hadn’t realized how much I missed her smile lighting up my life until now. “When I said ‘lose the towel,’ I meant put on some clothes. And by not wanting to see you half naked, I meant clothed.”

“Oh.” I shrugged. “I guess I could get dressed.”

I crossed the room wearing my birthday suit, then opened my top drawer. She let out a strangled groan, but I heard her lay back down. Did she face the other way so she wouldn’t have to see me anymore? Or was she watching? I dared a glance over my shoulder and quickly turned back around.

Oh, she was watching, all right.

I slowly stepped into a pair of boxers and pulled out a pair of khaki shorts. After I slid those on, I turned to face her. My stomach was a little bit steadier now. “Better?”

She cleared her throat. “Shirt?”

“Nah. I never wear one at home. You know that.” I sat down beside her, reaching out to feel her forehead. It was blazing hot. “Shit, you have a fever.”