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“Lainey? You here?”
“RJ?” It’s more of a croak than my name, and it’s coming from the bathroom.
“Eden said you weren’t feeling well.”
“I’m okay. Just give me a minute.” That declaration is followed by a horrible retching sound, a splash, and the flush of the toilet.
I find her hugging the bowl, her cheek resting on the edge. She’s wearing a loose nightshirt, legs bare and mostly exposed. Her hair hangs in a haphazard braid down her back, flyaways poking out, strands stuck to her neck and forehead. Her normally tanned skin is pasty white, and a fine sheen of sweat covers her face and neck despite the fact that she’s covered in goose bumps.
“You don’t look okay.”
Her eyes are glassy and slow to track. “You shouldn’t see me like this. I look awful.”
I ignore her as I crouch down, and she tries to wave me away. I press the back of my hand to her forehead, then lean in and follow with my lips, like I remember my mom used to do.
She makes a little noise, sort of like a hum combined with a groan.
“You’re burning up. Do you have a thermometer around here?”
“There’s one in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom across from Kody’s room, but I’m fine. It’s just a bug. I need to sleep for a few hours.”
“I don’t know that sleeping wrapped around a toilet is a great option, Lainey.”
“The bath mat is pretty soft.” She shivers and looks over her shoulder at the floor.
“Let me help you back into the bed.”
“I can’t yet. The nausea is ge—” Her face pales further, eyes going wide, and then she pulls herself up, arms shaking, fingertips going white as she clutches the seat and heaves violently. She tries to tell me to leave, but she can barely get words out before she heaves again; this time nothing comes up. She flushes the toilet, but spasms continue to rack her for a good two minutes until she finally sags again, cheek resting on the seat.
I grab a washcloth and wet it so I can clean her up. She’s so weak and spent that she doesn’t put up a fight. “How many times has that happened?”
“I don’t know. It comes in these awful waves. I’ve been in here since I came home, and that was before lunchtime.”
“I’m going to get the thermometer so I can check your temperature and get you a glass of water so the dry heaves aren’t as painful.” I smooth her hair away from her forehead. “I’ll be right back.”
I fill a glass with water first, then search the bathroom for the thermometer. By the time I get back she’s dry heaving again. Once she’s done with that round I take her temperature, which is over 103 degrees. It’s another hour before she finally stops heaving. She’s pale and sweaty and exhausted. I pick her up off the floor and carry her back to bed.
Lainey struggles to sit up, shivering, eyes bloodshot and glassy with fever. “I need to get dressed and pick Kody up from day care.”
“You’re not going anywhere. I’ll pick up Kody—you lie here and get some rest.”
“But I—”
“Lainey.” I put a gentle hand on her shoulder to keep her from sitting up. “You need to let me help you. You don’t want to risk Kody catching what you have.”
Lainey’s eyes flare. “Oh God, I didn’t think of that.”
“I’m here, and I want to be involved. Let me show you I can do this with you.”
She settles back on her pillows with a groan, teeth still chattering even though she has ten blankets piled on top of her.
“Do you want me to get you something warmer to wear?”
She pulls the covers up to her chin. “N-no. I’ll get the s-sweats, and then I’ll have to t-take it off anyway. I’ll s-stop s-shivering eventually.”
There’s no way I’m leaving her here alone when her teeth are chattering like she’s in a freezer. I round the other side of the bed and strip off my shirt.
“What’re you d-doing?” Lainey asks.
“I’m gonna make you warm.” I fold back the covers and slide under them.
“B-but I’ll make you sick.”
“I’ll be fine unless you try to make out with me.” I scoop her up and settle her in my lap, wrapping my arms around her.
She’s too tired to resist or even consider fighting me on it, so she snuggles right in, tucking her frozen feet between my thighs. Her clammy forehead rests against the side of my neck, and she settles her palms against my chest. “You’re s-so warm.”
“Big teddy bear, remember?”
“Mmm. I remember.”
Her hair tickles my arm, and I run my hand gently up and down her leg, waiting for the shivers to subside.
She keeps shifting in my lap, and despite that fact that she’s sick as a dog, my body starts to react inconveniently to her proximity, the feel of her hands on my chest, and the inadvertent friction.
