TWENTY-SIX
Charlie tried standing up straight. She was between James’ bedroom and the small kitchenette. She stood slightly hunched forward and rested most of her weight on her forearms on the kitchen counter. “I’ll clean the mess. Don’t worry about it.”
“That’s not it. That’s not the problem,” James said. His floor, and her chin, were covered in blood. She hadn’t thrown up a lot, but the vomit had sprayed from her mouth. “I’m gonna need your phone. In a minute, though. Here. Sit down.”
James led her to the couch. She didn’t look well at all. He set the small garbage can in front of her. “I put this right here, okay? If you have to throw up again, try to use this.”
He wasn’t sure she comprehended what he’d said. As quickly as possible, James cleaned the floor and wiped down the walls,
