wrenched open the shower door, barely making it to the toilet before she realized what a mistake the pizza had been. She heard Ryan outside the door, but couldn't stop vomiting long enough to answer.
Huddled on the cold tile floor, thankful she no longer had hair to worry about, tears streamed down her eyes as she puked every thing in her intestines over and over. Clinging to the toilet, she felt a soft towel across her back, and she puked yet again, gasping for breath.
"I got ya," Ryan whispered. "You'll be ok, sweetie."
There she was, laying naked, praying to the porcelain god in front of the sexiest man she'd seen in years, and she didn't even have the strength to wrap the towel around her body. There was only one way left to deal with her shame. Puking again, she just let the tears flow. When the last heave passed, Mack rested her cheek against her arm, and cried.
"You done for a bit?" he asked, kneeling beside her.
Without opening her eyes, Mack just nodded.
"K," he said, standing. He stepped through the open bathroom door, and she heard him kick off his shoes. The sound of cloth was interrupted by a zipper, then she heard his jeans slide down his legs, but she couldn't convince her eyes to open. She'd just started shivering when Ryan's strong hands grabbed her ribs and helped guide her to her feet.
"You gonna be able to stand, Mack?" he asked when she swayed.
"I dunno," she said softly, refused to look at him.
"K. Then we're going to do this together. Come here, baby."
With one hand, he tucked the towel around her chest, then reached over long enough to flush the toilet before guiding her back to the shower. All she could do was cling to the towel, hiding her flabby body from the one man she'd hoped to impress, but with a hand on each shoulder, he guided her back under the flowing water. He didn't leave her. Instead, he wiped what she was sure was vomit from her chin.
When Mack opened her eyes, there was Ryan, wearing nothing but his black satin boxers, standing chest to chest with her, letting the warm water flow over her body as the urge to shiver passed.
"Not quite the sexiest shower you've ever had with a man, I'm sure," he teased. "Still feeling like a wet noodle?"
"Yeah," she said softly, shame warring with her weakness. They both won, and the tears came again.
Ryan pulled her closer, one arm around her back, the other guiding her head to his shoulder, and he held her. "I still have two shoulders, sweetie. We're gonna make it through all of this, ok?"
"I'm so embarrassed," she mumbled through the sobs, the words barely coherent. "I just want to go home!"
"I can't let you do that, sweetie." His hand caressed the new stubble on her head. "I think you're amazing, you know that?"
"My art," she said, dismissing that, but the hysterical sobbing was coming under control.
"Not just that. Baby, you're taking one hell of a serious course of chemo. Didn't they tell you that?"
She shook her head.
"Most people get it once a week, and it kicks their ass. You? Daily for the first week, and you still tattooed my best client. Trust me, Mack, you have nothing to be embarrassed about."
She nodded and tried to pull away, looking up at him with a weak smile. "Except that I'm wrapped in a soaking towel, standing in the shower, crying on my boss's shoulder?"
"Friend," he said trailing his fingers down the soft down at the back of her neck. "And tomorrow morning I get to be your boyfriend again."
"Lucky me," she said with a little laugh. "Ryan?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to get you involved in this."
"You gonna be able to stand there for a second?" he asked.
She nodded, and he turned off the water, then stepped outside the glass door. His wet boxers clung to his ass, and he wrapped a towel around his waist, then grabbed another from a nearby cabinet.
"Ok, leave the wet one in there, and wrap this around you."
He politely turned his
Huddled on the cold tile floor, thankful she no longer had hair to worry about, tears streamed down her eyes as she puked every thing in her intestines over and over. Clinging to the toilet, she felt a soft towel across her back, and she puked yet again, gasping for breath.
"I got ya," Ryan whispered. "You'll be ok, sweetie."
There she was, laying naked, praying to the porcelain god in front of the sexiest man she'd seen in years, and she didn't even have the strength to wrap the towel around her body. There was only one way left to deal with her shame. Puking again, she just let the tears flow. When the last heave passed, Mack rested her cheek against her arm, and cried.
"You done for a bit?" he asked, kneeling beside her.
Without opening her eyes, Mack just nodded.
"K," he said, standing. He stepped through the open bathroom door, and she heard him kick off his shoes. The sound of cloth was interrupted by a zipper, then she heard his jeans slide down his legs, but she couldn't convince her eyes to open. She'd just started shivering when Ryan's strong hands grabbed her ribs and helped guide her to her feet.
"You gonna be able to stand, Mack?" he asked when she swayed.
"I dunno," she said softly, refused to look at him.
"K. Then we're going to do this together. Come here, baby."
With one hand, he tucked the towel around her chest, then reached over long enough to flush the toilet before guiding her back to the shower. All she could do was cling to the towel, hiding her flabby body from the one man she'd hoped to impress, but with a hand on each shoulder, he guided her back under the flowing water. He didn't leave her. Instead, he wiped what she was sure was vomit from her chin.
When Mack opened her eyes, there was Ryan, wearing nothing but his black satin boxers, standing chest to chest with her, letting the warm water flow over her body as the urge to shiver passed.
"Not quite the sexiest shower you've ever had with a man, I'm sure," he teased. "Still feeling like a wet noodle?"
"Yeah," she said softly, shame warring with her weakness. They both won, and the tears came again.
Ryan pulled her closer, one arm around her back, the other guiding her head to his shoulder, and he held her. "I still have two shoulders, sweetie. We're gonna make it through all of this, ok?"
"I'm so embarrassed," she mumbled through the sobs, the words barely coherent. "I just want to go home!"
"I can't let you do that, sweetie." His hand caressed the new stubble on her head. "I think you're amazing, you know that?"
"My art," she said, dismissing that, but the hysterical sobbing was coming under control.
"Not just that. Baby, you're taking one hell of a serious course of chemo. Didn't they tell you that?"
She shook her head.
"Most people get it once a week, and it kicks their ass. You? Daily for the first week, and you still tattooed my best client. Trust me, Mack, you have nothing to be embarrassed about."
She nodded and tried to pull away, looking up at him with a weak smile. "Except that I'm wrapped in a soaking towel, standing in the shower, crying on my boss's shoulder?"
"Friend," he said trailing his fingers down the soft down at the back of her neck. "And tomorrow morning I get to be your boyfriend again."
"Lucky me," she said with a little laugh. "Ryan?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to get you involved in this."
"You gonna be able to stand there for a second?" he asked.
She nodded, and he turned off the water, then stepped outside the glass door. His wet boxers clung to his ass, and he wrapped a towel around his waist, then grabbed another from a nearby cabinet.
"Ok, leave the wet one in there, and wrap this around you."
He politely turned his
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