I sat motionless, throat still raw, the acidic burn lingering painfully. The smell followed swiftly, sharp and acrid, clinging stubbornly to the small space. Cy's shirt clung heavily to his body, drenched and dripping with what I'd expelled.
He blinked slowly. No reaction showed. He stood and turned toward the bathroom, moving without a word.
I folded over the trash can again and retched hard. Pain curled through my ribs. My stomach had nothing left to give, but my body didn't care.
When he returned, towels bundled under his arm, he knelt beside me without a word. He set one towel in front of the bin, then leaned forward and began cleaning the mess from the floor. He didn't hesitate or pull away. There was no trace of annoyance or discomfort, only quiet purpose. Like this mattered becau
