Unable to stop it, I broke into laughter. I cupped his cheeks, ignoring the vomit on both of us. “Where is my confident Little Warrior?”
“I don’t know.” He kept crying and crying.
“You shouldn’t drink like this again if it’s going to upset you.”
Vince continued, “I want you to like me.”
“I do.”
“I want you to think I’m pretty.”
“I do, Vince.”
He cried, “Why am I not good enough?”
I truly didn’t understand. Vince had never seemed like he cared what anyone thought. I pulled him closer. “You are. You’re the only person for me.”
He sniffed, wiping his tears before dragging his dripping nose over the shoulder of my shirt. My nose crinkled in disgust, but I wasn’t going to say anything to him in this state.
“You never cared about this before that I know of,” I said, brushing his hair back “Why are you upset?”
“I like you best.”
My soul pounded. “What about Seth?”
“Ilikeyou best,” he repeated. “Seth is Seth.” Vince waved his hand like that explained everything. “He’s always going to beSeth. But you are Don. My Don. And I like you best. I want you to like me best.”
“I do.” I kissed his cheek. “I do.”
Vince finally calmed down, head on my chest.
We were both covered in vomit, as was the bed, and all of it smelled horribly, making my stomach churn. Carefully, I maneuvered him to the bathroom and had him sit with the planter on his lap. The easiest thing would be to put him in the shower with me. In his current state, I could probably convince him to get naked, but he hadn’t given me his permission to do so. I didn’t want to take advantage of him, or when he woke up, for him to never trust me again.
So I took a shower, alone, while I made him sit in the bathroom because he kept vomiting occasionally. Once I was clean, I tied my hair back and pulled on fresh clothes. I got a cloth wet and wiped him off, though his shirt was filthy. I pulled it off, and Vince didn’t react. I yanked one of my own over his head, and he drowned in the excess fabric. I growled at the sight of him in my clothes.
When we returned to my room, I stripped the bed and put new bedding on.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
I kissed his cheek. “Don’t be. I will always take care of you.”
He lay down, and I rolled him toward me on his side. Vince rubbed my shirt and frowned. He tugged on the hem, and I caught his hands. “No. You are too drunk.”
“I don’t want to fuck,” he snapped, though it was wet as if he was about to start crying again. “I want to touch you.”
“Vince, I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and be upset with me.”
“No,” he wailed, yanking on my shirt. “Just you. I want to feel you against my face. I need it.”
Relenting, I leaned up and pulled my shirt off. Vince sighed, pressing against me. His eyes closed, and he held me as close as possible. “Mine.”
“Yes,” I said with a chuckle. “Yours. All yours.”
Groaning, I held my head. My mouth was literal trash and also bone dry. Everything hurt. I wanted to curl into a ball and die. God. Dying had to be less painful than this. It had to be.
Arms surrounded me, and I started, yanking away, which ripped a whine from my throat as my stomach threatened to escape.
“It’s me,” Don whispered.
