My brain immediately rejects the termbestie, and I have to practically bite my tongue to keep from spilling all my complicated feelings right at Jo’s feet. To keep from slicing myself open and telling her how much I want to be more than just friends but how terrified I am to open up and let myself feel like that again. There’s time for all of that, but right now, I need to get her well.
“At your service, Hurricane.” I reach over and grab the bag Lucas brought over, setting it on the bed. Rummaging around in it, I find a thermometer, a box of flu tests, and a stethoscope.
I hand her the thermometer first. “Put this under your tongue.”
She does, and when it beeps, I take it and glance at the display. One hundred and three.
“Your fever is pretty high—I’m almost positive you have the flu, but I want to test you to make sure, okay?”
Jo nods and closes her eyes again. I open the box, setting up the testing vial. I swab the inside of her nose as gently as I can and stick it in the vial, swirling it around, and then I squeeze a couple of drops of the liquid onto the testing strip and set it aside. Grabbing the stethoscope, I run my thumb across her jaw until she opens her eyes.
“Can you lean forward for me? I want to listen to your lungs.”
She leans forward and props her forehead on her hands like she needs help holding it up. I cup the chest piece of the stethoscope in my hand to warm it up before I press it to her back, under her shirt, and she shivers again.
“Cold,” she mutters.
“I know. I’m so sorry. It’ll be quick. Take a couple of deep breaths for me, sweetheart.”
She does, and the wheezing is immediately obvious. I don’t love the way it sounds, but if she has the flu, it’s par for the course. Taking off the stethoscope and tossing it aside, I help her lay back and slide a pulse oximeter onto her finger. It’s a little low but not super concerning, considering how bad her lungs sound. Glancing over at the nightstand, the positive flu test is unmistakable. I’m relieved that at least I know what I’m dealing with.
“Okay, Hurricane, you’ve definitely got the flu.”
“Fuck,” Jo mutters, eyes still closed. “I hate being sick. Sick means stuck in bed, and that’s the worst.” Suddenly her eyes fly open, and she looks distressed. “Midsummer Night Swing. We missed it.”
I chuckle because—that’s my girl.
My girl. It sounds good. Right. Settling, almost.
“I promise you can take me swing dancing when you feel better, but right now, we need to get you well.”
She opens her mouth to protest, but when what comes out is another coughing fit, she slumps back against her pillows in defeat. I grab the little albuterol inhaler from the bag and hold it up. “Have you ever used one of these?”
Jo nods. “I had bronchitis a few years ago, and they gave me one to help with the coughing.”
“Okay, great.” I hand it to her. “One puff and breathe in. Hold it for five seconds, let it out, and then do it again.”
While she does the inhaler, I pull out Tylenol and an antiviral and shake the pills into my hand. When she sets down the inhaler, I pick up her water, hand her the glass, and then the Tylenol. “Swallowing pills isn’t going to feel the best on your throat, but this will bring your fever down and make you more comfortable.”
Jo swallows the pills and makes a face. “Fuck, that hurts.”
“I know. Just a couple more. These are antivirals.” I hand her the other pills. “Since you just got sick this afternoon, if you take them now, it should decrease the length of your symptoms. You won’t be sick for as long.”
“Say less,” Jo rasps and grabs the pills, swallowing them down and handing me back the glass. I set it on the nightstand and turn back to her.
“Do you want to lie back down? I can help you.”
She shakes her head, letting her eyes fall closed. “It’s easier to breathe when I’m sitting up.”
Securing the comforter more firmly around her, I shift on the bed so I can reach the bag of medical supplies, but before I can grab it, Jo’s hand shoots out from under the blanket and grabs my arm.
“J,” she says, eyes closed, her voice low and still a little raspy.
I cover her hand with mine. “Yeah?”
“Can you…stay, maybe? I hate being alone when I’m sick.”
My heart does a slow roll in my chest. “Of course I can, Hurricane. I’m not going anywhere.”
