He pulled socks on his feet, the wood floor cold on his toes, then made his way to the kitchen.
The smell of coffee hit him when his feet landed on the bottom. She had a cup in her hands.
“Do you want to try for some?”
“I’d love it,” he said. “I think it will stay down. I need the caffeine hit.”
She handed over her cup and made another. He took it black; she didn’t, so she must have made it waiting for his decision.
She found milk in his fridge and added it to hers.
“How are you feeling? You’re still a little pale but not like you were.”
“I hope to never feel that shitty again,” he said. “Thanks for staying. You didn’t need to. I mean it.”
No one had ever taken care of him like this before.
Well, no one other than his mother when he was a kid. But as an adult? Nope.
“I would have left, but your fever wasn’t coming down and I was worried. I had this fear you were going to pass out and hit your head, knocking yourself out. Anything. I just figured once the fever left I could go, but then I fell asleep on the couch.”
Her hair was disheveled. Not as crazy as his was, but she wasn’t as put together as he always saw her.
She was in jeans like him, a sweatshirt, and bright blue and green socks on her feet.
“I should check in with my mother at some point and see how Becca is doing.”
He just thought of that. He knew Becca was safe and had texted his mother last night to say he was still feeling like shit. He didn’t want her to come over and catch it either and downplayed what was going on with him.
“That would be good,” she said. “But I’m sure they are both sleeping.”
“Where you’d like to be,” he said.
She yawned. “I slept some last night. Though I will admit this is earlier than I normally get up. Do you want to eat something? Even toast?”
“I can get it,” he said.
“Nope. Sit. I mean it.”
“I’ve been lying in bed for over twenty-four hours. The only time I wasn’t was when I was in the bathroom heaving my guts out. I didn’t think I had that much food in me.”
“I want to say it was food poisoning, but that wouldn’t cause the fever,” she said.
“I hope I don’t get you sick. I told you to leave.”
He didn’t want to even think of her going through what he had, let alone Becca.
“And I overruled you to stay,” she said, smirking. “Where is your bread?”
“See, if I made it, I could do it faster.”
She turned to close one eye at him, and he pointed to the bottom drawer to her right. She pulled out the loaf and popped four slices in his toaster and pushed it down.
“Butter or something else?”
“Butter to start,” he said. “The coffee is hitting the spot and not threatening to make a reappearance.”
“Good to know,” she said.
