Vik (Shot Callers 2)

“Yeah.”

“The storage room.”

What did he think I was, an amateur? “Yesss.”

“The bathroom.”

“Ye—” I stopped. No, I hadn’t.

Vik must have seen the light in my eyes return, because he ordered, “You check the ladies’; I’ll get the men’s.” And then we were rushing off in opposite directions.

I collided with the door, causing it to swing open with a bang. My eyes shot all over. I opened every stall, one by one, until there were none left to check. And my heart sank. So, when I rushed out to find Vik standing just outside the men’s room wearing a frown, I reached it.

The final stage. Acceptance.

With a solemn nod, I uttered, “Well, he’s gone. She’s just going to have to love her other children harder and never, ever trust them to another person so long as she lives.”

But then Vik reached out, pushing the door open a sliver. And I heard it.

Singing. The little voice went, “He’s got the whole world in his hands,’ only stopping to strain loudly, causing my face to bunch in revulsion.

Vik grinned. “He’s taking a dump, crooning his little heart out.”

Sure. Of course, he was.

My heartbeat slowed.

Another strain. That couldn’t be good. Somewhat concerned, I whispered, “He needs more fiber in his diet,” and Vik chuckled up until the moment he spotted my shaking hands.

He quickly lost his laughter, and when his pensive eyes met mine, he opened his arms to me. “Come here, baby.”

I went without hesitation, moving in close and pressing my nose to his collarbone. He folded his muscly arms around me and held me tight as I, without shame, inhaled deeply, taking in his spicy male cologne.

“He’s okay,” Vik murmured.

Yes, he was. But was I?

“Thanks for helping” was all I could think to say, because everything else I felt right then was not something I could put into words lightly.

A comforting squeeze. “Yeah, well, we make a good team.”

The way he said it had me pulling back slightly to peer up at him. What I found was a tired man with a worn soul, and it shattered me. Particularly when he lifted one rough hand to push a loose hair behind my ear and spoke directly to my weakened spirit, “I meant what I said. You take all the time you need.” His bent his head to speak closer to my lips. “It’s killing me, but I’ll be right here, waiting.”

Right at that moment, my stomach lurched, and it wasn’t from the sweetly spoken words.

I frowned, placing a gentle hand to my belly.

It pitched again.

Lifting a hand, I covered my mouth just in time to smother a gag.

“You serious?” Vik’s brow pulled down. “I’m pouring my heart out over here.”

I pushed away from him as the feeling returned and mumbled a panicked, “Oh my God.”

“Oh shit. You’re not faking,” he uttered in surprise, straightening as I rushed away, slipping on my heels, very nearly rolling my ankle.

Heaving, I made it to the bathroom with barely a second to spare. The moment I hit the first stall, I followed through on the gag, losing the contents of my stomach in one go. I knelt over the bowl, salivating endlessly, spitting into the porcelain bowl. It smelled heavily of cleaning supplies, and that was not helping.

The door shot open, and I heard him ask, “Nas? You okay in there?”

“No,” I grumbled, spitting again and again. The door of the stall wobbled, and even though he couldn’t see me, I lifted my hand and warned, “Do not come in here.”

Another gag had my eyes watering, but this time, nothing came out.

The sound of the bathroom door swinging open sounded.

Great. Just great. More people.

“Is she okay?” This was Mina. She then called out, “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

But my head was swimming.

Vik responded for me. “She’s okay. Just watch the kid for me, will ya? His dad will be here soon.”

“Okay,” she said sadly as the door closed lightly behind her.

The cool floor looked so inviting to my overheating body that I wanted to lie flat on the tiles, but I refrained, because… germs.

“I’m just gonna sit right here until you feel better.” I heard the stall next to me open, the lid of the toilet close, and then his black Diesel boots could be seen from under the door. I had the odd compulsion to reach out and touch them. “Then I’m taking you home.”

I couldn’t very well argue. I mean, I tried, but it came out in the form of a long groan and many little splutters.

A few minutes passed, and Vik asked gently, “Feeling better?”

A loud burp escaped me, and I let out a weak sounding, “Yep.”

With a heavy sigh, Vik stood, left his stall, and approached mine. “Yeah, no.” The door opened slowly, and when I blinked up at him, woozy and perspiring, his eyes gentled. “Come on, tiger. Let’s get you home.”