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She hums in acknowledgment as I head out of the room toward the bathroom. I turn on the shower, adjusting the temperature until it’s tepid. Hopefully, she’s not too sick to stand under the cool spray without assistance because as much as I’d love to see Brynn naked, I’d rather do it when it’s amicable and her brain is firing on all pistons, not when she’s burning up with fever.
Moving to the bathroom closet, I find my shaving kit and remove the bottle of ibuprofen I keep there, uncapping it and shaking two into the palm of my hand before I grab her a glass of water from the kitchen. A few minutes later, I reenter my bedroom and help her sit up. “For the fever and aches,” I say, handing her the pills, and watch as she swallows them down with a grimace I assume is a byproduct of her sore throat.
Before she can snuggle back into the bed, I grip the edge of the blanket and fling it off. “Hey!” she yells, her protests feeble as she grapples to cover herself back up.
“I know you feel cold, but that’s the fever, and I’d like to get it down.” I slide both of my arms underneath her, one cradling her legs and the other her back. “Come on,” I say as I scoop her up.
“Jace, no,” she groans. “You’re going to get sick.”
My heart pinches.She’s worried about me.
“It’s fine,” I say. “I’m not worried about it.”
“You should be,” she mumbles. “I’m dyyyyying!”
I chuckle, unable to help myself because sick Brynn is fucking adorable. “You’re not dying, and I hardly ever get sick. Trust me.” It’s true. I have the immune system of a racehorse. “A coolshower will help get your fever down until the medicine starts to work.”
Her eyes meet mine as I step into the small bathroom and her brows pull together in concern. “How cold?”
My lips twitch. “It’s room temperature. So, you won’t freeze, but it’ll probably feel colder than it is since you’re feverish. We can’t make it warmer, though, or it won’t help.”
She nods as I set her on her feet. “Do you need help getting undressed, or . . .?”
“Pah!”She manages. “You wish.”
I laugh, relieved she’s well enough to joke around. “A man can dream.”
She groans, and I set her on her feet. “Get going.” She points, her gaze hooded, cheeks flushed with fever.
“I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
“Fat chance, Taggart,” she murmurs as I close the door. I hear the clinking sound of the shower curtain rings as she draws it open then closed.
I swallow as I sink down to the floor, too worried about her to leave until I know she’s finished, dressed, and tucked back into bed.
Man, I’m a simp.
I settle in and sling my arms over my bent knees, trying try to keep my thoughts from focusing on the fact that Brynn is naked just behind that door. Only a total creep fantasizes about someone when they’re miserable and sick.
Instead, I train my thoughts to focus on what I can do to help. I need a thermometer just to make sure her fever doesn’t get worse. Maybe some cold and flu meds. Tea and honey for her throat. Lozenges. Chicken noodle soup. What else?
Fuck. I rake a hand through my hair.
My parents never did this shit for me when I was a kid. If they were even around at all when I got sick, they stayed as far awayas possible, claiming they couldn’t afford to miss work. It was only Harriet, our housekeeper, that ever showed any semblance of concern. But she wasn’t always around, either. There were plenty of times I suffered in silence.
Still, I force my memories to the times shewasthere for me and vaguely recall several instances when I magically found the fridge stocked with homemade soup and the pantry full of crusty bread for toast. Cough drops and medicine suddenly appeared. Menthol ointment, vitamin C chews, and elderberry syrup found their way onto my bedside table. Those times, she stopped by the next day, pretending like she left something at the house. Once I was older, she no longer needed to pretend because by then, I realized she was the only one checking up on me.
“How long do I need to stay in here?” Brynn calls out, her voice strained from what I imagine is a swollen throat.
I slide my phone from my pocket and check the time, surprised to find more than ten minutes have passed while I’ve been lost in thought. “You’re probably good to come out.”
The water turns off and the shower curtain rattles again. A few minutes later, the bathroom door swings open, and I’m not prepared for what I see: Brynn is standing before me in nothing but a towel, skin and hair damp from the shower.
Every muscle in my body freezes. A water droplet falls from her hair to her chest, rolling down her skin and my gaze follows its path. I swallow as a fireball forms at the base of my spine.
Rubbing a hand over the back of my neck, I ignore the fist of desire clenching in my stomach.
“Eyes up here, Taggart.”
