“Here.” I tap one pill into my palm and swipe his non-tip tumbler from the shelf beside the bed.
His lips press into a line. “I don’t need it.”
“Cole, it’s been less than a year since the accident, and you worked your ass off today. Most people would have left the deck and taken something an hour in, but you’re too damn stubborn.” I shake his water bottle tumbler menacingly. “So come on. I’ll pry your sexy lips apart if I have to, Sunshine.”
“What if something happens to theBriar?”
I kneel beside the bed and meet his gaze. Even with bags under his bloodshot eyes, his ocean irises give me butterflies.
“I’m here. Javi is here. Wes is here.” I lift a finger for each qualified skipper. “If anything goes awry, we’ve got plenty of people, and if the ship goes down, god forbid, we’ll all be wishing we had taken an oxy too.”
His nose twitches. “Don’t joke about ships sinking.”
“I wasn’t joking. If I have to be stuck on a life raft with Lawrence for twelve hours, I want to be high as hell.” But I knock on the wooden bed frame just in case.
He looks down at the pill, warring with himself.
“What’s wrong?”
“Maybe pain is my punishment.”
“Sweetheart.” My heart aches. I wish I could erase all of his pain. “You spent the last year punishing yourself. You have to stop. You have to forgive yourself.”
“What if I can’t?” he asks in a hoarse rush.
“Then I’ll help you. Grief counselors are pretty good at it too.” I wink. “Come on. Finn wouldn’t want you to be in pain.”
“Wow, you’re going to use the kid to guilt-trip me.”
I shrug. “He’s my secret weapon. Now open.”
He rolls his eyes, but obeys, and I place the pill on his tongue, then steer the straw toward his mouth. “I’ll start once that kicks in.”
“Okay.” He sips from the straw, and swallows.
“Good boy.”
“Oh?” A sexy smirk stretches across his lips. “You never tell me that anymore.”
“Yeah, because you never behave yourself, which is exactly what I love about you.”
His cheeks flush, and I’m happy to see the color there. Just a few minutes ago, he was pale and clammy. Now that he’s squared away, I pull my shirt over my head.
“Are you okay if I take a quick shower?”
“Yeah, but make it fast,” Cole says.
“Roger that.”
“I thought you hated nautical humor,” Cole murmurs.
“I do. That came out accidentally.”
“Right.” A smile teases the corner of his lips, but the tension around his eyes betrays his pain.
I hop into the shower before the water heats completely, and scrub the hours of sweat and saltwater away, then shampoo and condition my hair because Cole loves the bay rum scent.
“Mm. You smell delicious,” Cole murmurs when I return. “But you took too long.”