“I don’t want to hear it,” I say and walk past him.
He doesn’t try to hold onto me, doesn’t try to tell me whatever is weighing on his chest. Leonard lets me walk by him, and I hate myself for finding that even more frustrating than anything else between us.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
leonard
Chiara has been sick for the past two days. She thinks she’s hiding it well from me, but I’ve noticed. I’ve been subtly trying to take some load off her shoulders by checking in on her more and taking Benz for walks, but she’s so goddamn stubborn, she’s not letting me do anything. She’s sneezing and coughing when she thinks no one’s around, her energy levels have dropped significantly, and she keeps at least four metres distance from me at all times, probably so I don’t catch whatever she has. I’m getting tired of it. Because of our fight and because I was a little pissed she kissed Dino, I’ve kept my distance the past few days. No more. Chiara needs help, and her stubborn arse will get it from me, whether she wants it or not.
Graham and Irena had to fly back to New York yesterday, but my brother didn’t even notice his best friend getting sicker and sicker. He’s in his honeymoon phase with his girlfriend, something I’m happy he’s experiencing, but, at the same time, I wish he’d open his eyes and see Chiara needs and misses him. She doesn’t say anything because of her ginormous heart and the love she holds for Graham, but I noticed the way she misses him, even when he was in the same room as her. I’ll have to speak to him about his behaviour. Chiara will be pissed, but I hate seeing her hurting, no matter what kind of pain it is.
After my free practice sessions and a much-needed shower, I make my way toward the private room where Benz and Chiara are. I open the door and a second later, my heart drops into my stomach. Starling is collapsed on the ground with a whining Benz sitting in front of her, nudging her with her nose. Fuck. Shit. Fuck.
“Chiara? Sweetheart?” I say as I kneel behind her, pressing my hand to her forehead. She’s burning up. I let out a string of curses when she starts shivering and crying out with her eyes closed. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay,” I say to convince myself more than her because panic is flooding my chest. I call Quinn, telling her to contact the team doctor as soon as possible and get me some blankets.
“Leonard,” Chiara says with a weak voice, and I lift her off the floor to get her to the small couch in the corner of the room.
“It’s alright, baby. I’m going to help you feel better,” I assure her, and she lets out a grunt.
“Stop calling me ‘baby’. I’m not your baby,” she complains, and I want to shake her for trying to fight with me right now when she needs to preserve her energy. I wipe the brown hair off her face, watching her eyes flutter a little open.
“Yes, you are, and you’re in pain. Stop fighting my help, little demon.”
A minute later, Bernie, the team doctor, steps into the room with his backpack on and worry all over his face. He’s a kind man, caring and honest, but I need him to pick up the pace and figure out how bad her fever is. The short man places a thermometer under Chiara’s tongue, the back of his hand pressing against her forehead.
“We need to help her break the fever. It’s too high,” Bernie says and turns to me. “Fill the tub you use for ice baths with lukewarm water. I will give her some ibuprofen, but we have to get it down now.” Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Quinn and I rush around, grabbing the tub I used only this morning for my ice bath and filling it with lukewarm water, as instructed. My heart is pounding in my chest and my hands are shaking to the point where my best friend has to place hers over mine. Quinn flashes me a comforting smile, but I can tell she’s worried too. Chiara and my best friend have been growing closer since I first started taking her to my races almost two months ago.
“I’ve got this. Go get Chiara,” she says, and I rush back upstairs where Starling is still shivering on the couch.
“Ready,” I tell Bernie, and he steps out of the way to allow me to pick her up.
Chiara mumbles something I don’t understand in my arms, but I’m too busy focusing on not missing any steps to ask her what she said. The tub is filled by the time I get back, so I place Chiara on her feet while Quinn holds her up. My hands move to cup her hot, burning cheeks, her green eyes fluttering open at my touch.
“I need to take off your shirt and shorts, alright? I will leave your underwear on, I promise,” I assure her, and she nods along to my words.
“Leonard, I’m scared,” she admits, tears slipping down her cheeks. Goddamn it.
“It’s okay, I’m here. I will get in with you, okay?”
She nods again, and I start undressing myself first before taking off her clothes. It takes me about thirty seconds until we’re standing in front of the tub. I get in first, Quinn still holding onto Chiara’s arms. Starling’s eyes are barely open, but she lets me lift her into the tub where we sink into a lying position. I bring my wet palm to her forehead, and she lets out a relieved moan in response.
“Better?” I ask, and her head falls backward against my shoulder.
“You have to get away from me, Leonard. You can’t get sick before tomorrow and Sunday,” she says, but I dip my hands into the water and place them on her stomach as my mouth attaches to her temple. Her skin is still burning, so I bring my palm back to her forehead.
“You need to rest, you infuriating woman, and I’m not going anywhere. Now, shut up and save your energy.” She lets out a groan before doing the opposite of what I just told her she needed to do.
“If you get sick and miss the race, you will be pissed at me for years, and I don’t have the patience to deal with that,” she says. I hate the way her voice cracks and trembles from being sick and exhausted.
“I’m pissed at you most of the time anyway, might as well give me another reason to be,” I tease, but she lets out a sigh and attempts to get out of the tub. I hold her against my chest, chuckling at her reaction. “Chiara, please, stay put. We have to make sure your fever goes down,” I remind her, and she sinks back against me.
“You’re such a dick sometimes,” she complains, but her shivers have slowed now, which is a good sign. “But I guess it makes sense. You’re overcompensating,” she teases, and I chuckle once again.
“Yup, I’m overcompensating, you’ve finally figured it out,” I reply and bring my fingers to the back of her neck, her skin on fire there too. I curse under my breath. “You should have been honest about how you’re feeling. This is unacceptable, Chiara. We could have gotten you antibiotics days ago, it didn’t have to get to this,” I say with so much anger dripping from my words, it surprises her a little.
“You sound almost like you care,” she replies, sending a wave of frustration through me.
