what now? | outerbanks

• eighty-four •

Sarah

    "Yeah, yeah. I just got off the phone with Cleo. I'll be over in fifteen," I hear John B.'s voice say from the bathroom.
I squint my eyes against the bright bathroom light fanning over the bedroom and shift some between the sheets. I try to mumble something to him, but my voice is still asleep, so even as he comes into the room and sits on the edge of the bed, he doesn't hear. He leans down and fastens his shoes before clasping his watch onto his wrist and checking his pockets to make sure he isn't forgetting anything.
"John B.," I say gruffly, finally opening my eyes all the way.
My voice startles him some—he jumps like he didn't realize I was awake and watching him. "Hi, baby," he coos. "I didn't mean to wake you. I thought you were still asleep."
    Finally, I digest what he said on the phone earlier. "You're leaving?"
Standing in the mirror and combing his fingers through his hair, he says, "I know; I'm sorry. I was supposed to stay home today and keep you company, but Cleo called earlier and said she could use some extra hands at the shop. JJ and Pope are working on figuring out who the guy at the party was, so it's just Cleo."
He must see me frown in the mirror, because he turns around then and says, "I'll try not to stay out too late, okay? I love you, Sar."
I smile at his words, but I don't know how much I actually comprehend since I'm still half-asleep. Suddenly, though, my hands fly amongst the sheets, searching.
"What time is it?" I ask hoarsely, still hunting for my phone.
He checks his watch. "Close to nine-thirty."
"Shit!" I curse, sitting up quickly. "I was supposed to wake Wheezie up and get her packed for Kie's. Damn it! She's probably still asleep!" I yank the covers off of my body and work my way to the edge of the bed, but John B. walks over and lies me right back down.
"Already got it covered," he says like it's nothing. His smirk kills me.
"What?"
    He comes closer, kneeling at the edge of the bed so we're face-to-face. "She's awake, and fed, and packed. I double-checked everything, and if she forgets anything—which she won't—I'll bring it to Kie's right away."
    "But I—I told her—"
He shushes me sweetly and brushes sleepy strands of hair away from my face, but just as he goes to help me back down, pain shoots down my thigh. The gash from the party.
I hiss at the burning, and he immediately searches to find the source. "Shit, babe, I'm sorry. I wasn't even thinking—are you okay?"
"I'm fine—" I grit through clenched teeth. "Just—can you help change the bandage?"
    John B. nods without hesitation. "Of course. Just stay there."
    He slips into the bathroom, and I hear the familiar creak of the cabinet door and the shuffle of supplies. I wince again as the throbbing in my leg pulses stronger, like my body waited until he mentioned it to remind me it's still pissed about everything.
    He comes back a moment later with the little basket we've been using—gauze, tape, ointment. Everything smells faintly like rubbing alcohol and soap, and it almost makes me gag.
    "You're supposed to let it breathe a little," he tells me as he starts removing the old bandages.
    "It'll hurt," I murmur, eyeing the white fabric.
    "You also slept on it for seven hours without moving, babe." He kneels beside me again, gently guiding my leg toward him. "It soaked through some. We should leave it open for a little while."
    I nod, even though the thought of it makes my skin crawl. "I forgot it was even there."
    "I didn't," he says quietly. "I've been checking it throughout the night."
    His voice is so casual, but it sticks in my chest. I look at him, really look at him—he looks tired and spent. Have I really been so caught up in myself and Wheezie that I've failed to realize how hard this is all hitting him too?
    "You didn't have to—"
    "I wanted to."
    He finishes peeling the bandages off with practiced care, and I hiss at the sting. It's not as bad as it was yesterday, but it's still angry and red, a slow bruise blooming beneath the skin around it.
    "Looks better," he says, dabbing gently with a warm cloth. "Still not pretty, though."
    "Gee, thanks."
    Once he cleans up all of the dry blood and ooze, he rubs on a light layer of ointment. He gives my knee a light pat and starts to stand, but I catch his wrist. "You don't have to go, you know."
    He sighs and leans down, brushing a kiss against my temple. "I do. Just for a little while. They're short-staffed, and Cleo sounded stressed."
    "But I want you to stay," I admit, softer this time.
    "I know, baby." He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. "Which is why I need you to go back to sleep so it feels like I never left."
    I squint at him. "That's not how time works."
    "You won't know if you don't try," he says with a smile.
"I should—"
"Nope. You're always doing everything, Sar. Just rest. I've got it."
"But Wheezie—"
"—Is fine. Kie's already on the way to pick her up. You're not gonna win this one."
I pout a little, but he only grins, leaning down to kiss me slow and soft.
"I'll be back soon. Just close your eyes. Dream about me or something."
I smirk. "Dream about you... doing what?"
"Working outside. No shirt. Or looking hot while I surf a swell. Or," he grins, "dream about me kneeling between your legs."
I choke on my breath and slap at his shoulder. "John Booker Routledge! You filthy little—"
    He just laughs, not even a little bit sorry, and catches my wrist before I can swat him again. "What? You asked."
    I giggle, still shaking my head. "I meant like... rocking our baby to sleep or asking me to marry you again. Something sweet."
    "Oh, I'll do something sweet," he says, voice low and sultry as he leans in close again, "but only after I've made you scream my—"
    I snort, biting back more laughter as I push him away from me. "You are insufferable."
    "And you love it." He leans over and kisses my knee, just above the wound, and then trails up to my belly. "Now, go back to sleep."
    He eases me back down into bed, rolling me to my side and unwrapping my body from the comforter, knowing I run hotter these days. "Everything's handled, baby. Wheezie actually seems kind of excited to hang with Kie. You don't need to worry about any of it. Just go back to sleep, okay?"
    "Are you sure?" I ask, though I'm already half-asleep and not really looking for an answer.
    "Yes," he says simply before kissing me slow and lovingly. Lips to lips, just us, I couldn't wish for anything more. It's the kind of kiss I'll be thinking about all day, like we're two sneaky teenagers in love rather than husband and wife. "Go to sleep, Sarah. I love you."
    "I love you too," I mumble against his lips, already succumbing to exhaustion. Then, he kisses me one final time on the forehead and walks out the door, shutting it as gently as possible.
   
    When I wake up again, I can tell it's been a few hours. For once, I feel rested, and the pillows and blankets are scattered haphazardly around the bed and room. It takes me a minute to find my phone in the mess of things, but when I find it, it has a slightly crumpled sticky note posted across the screen. I can't suppress my sleepy smile.