Reagan finally convinced Sarah to leave the bar after one last bottle of beer.
She staggered into her penthouse, only to bolt straight for the bathroom.
The sound of retching echoed against the marble tiles. Reagan followed without hesitation, crouching behind her, one hand holding her hair back, the other rubbing soothing circles on her spine.
When her body finally gave in and the sick feeling passed, she slumped against the bathroom floor, pale and trembling.
"Come on," Reagan murmured. He lifted her gently, guiding her to the tub he'd already filled with warm water. Without a word of protest from her, he loosened her dress, undressed her with careful, almost clinical movements, and carried her into the steaming bath.
He stayed close, crouched at the side, his sleeves rolled up as if ready to steady her at any moment.
