She softens against me, cupping the back of my head as she takes slow, even breaths through her mouth. I know she’s fighting like hell to not get sick, and I really hope she can hang on until I get her upstairs. Guilt races through me. I should’ve taken the bottle from her earlier. I hadn’t realized it would hit her quite as hard as it did, but either way, I should’ve stopped it.
“Vasya,” she moans again.
The sound of her voice has me running the rest of the way, barely getting her into our bathroom and setting her down before her head is in the toilet and she’s bringing everything and then some back up. I quickly grab her hair, pulling it out of the way and fisting it gently. She cries and vomits, and I feel like an absolute d**k for not taking better care of her.
“I’m so sorry,” I mur
