“Alright, I’ll only be gone for a minute. Don’t push it. Sit down if you’re feeling dizzy.” I know I’m being overbearing, but as she said, my inner caveman is coming out and I just want to keep her safe. She nods and then shoos me out of the bathroom. I back out with my hands raised. “Okay, okay, I’m going.”
I waste no time rushing from her apartment back to mine. I expect to find the door wide open, but it’s shut tight. Frank must have closed it on his way back downstairs. I slide through the door, grabbing a sweatshirt from a bar stool and slipping my Vans on while heading toward my bathroom.
I’m really grateful for the Wes of last week who decided to stock up on all the necessities, like cold medicine and pain relievers. It tookme a while to figure out the Australian equivalents to the ones I buy in the States, but I think what I have will do.
I shove a few things in a grocery bag then swing through the kitchen, grabbing a couple bottles of cold water from the fridge, along with a box of crackers and some Tim Tams. Joss and I have bonded over our love of the cookies, and it’s a show of my friendship that I’ll share mine with her.
Next door again, everything but the medicine gets dropped unceremoniously on Joss’s counter. I breathe a little easier at the sound of running water coming from behind the closed bathroom door, and I take the opportunity to drop my haul on her bedside table.
“Proof of life, please. You okay in there?” I call out, knuckles rapping gently on the door.
There’s an exasperated sigh followed by a small laugh. I can almost hear her rolling her eyes at me. “I’m fine, Wes. I’ll be right out.”
I press my forehead against the door in relief, my hands braced on the wall on either side. In the darker recesses of my brain, I was terrified she’d be passed out on the floor by the time I got back. I don’t let myself think about why I’m so panicked—those thoughts won’t do me any good here.
She’s okay. She’s okay. She’s okay.If I keep repeating it over and over, maybe I’ll eventually believe it.
The door opens and I’m face-to-face with her. God, even when she’s sick she still takes my breath away.
She stumbles back a step, obviously surprised to discover me hovering in the doorframe, and I instantly reach forward to graspher arms. I want to crush her to me, replace this worry with the feel of her beating heart against my chest, but I need to keep this about her. Her eyes haven’t left mine, and they seem more alert than they did before.
“Let’s get you in bed, Grey.”
I don’t let her go, tucking her into my side and wrapping an arm around her waist. I don’t miss the way she snuggles into me, allowing me to take care of her. The thought hits me, not for the first time, that I know very little about her family. She doesn’t talk about them, and besides Jaz, I don’t think she has anyone that takes care of her.
I pull the covers back on her bed so she can sit. There are so many pillows in different shapes and sizes that I’m not sure what she does with them all while she sleeps. She must catch the look that I’m casting their way because she ducks her head.
“I know it’s a lot. I love the way they look when the bed is made, but they’re kind of a pain in the ass the rest of the time.”
“Tell me which ones you need and I’ll move the rest.”
She settles two normal-looking pillows behind her and pushes the rest over the edge of her mattress. Ah, so that’s what she does with them. She slides her legs under the covers and snuggles down. I move to the other side and neatly stack the pillows against the wall.
Her bed did look rather inviting with all of them propped there, like a cloud or one of those foam pits.You really need to stop thinking about her bed.
She’s watching me intently, and I have to glance away. Thank god she can’t read my mind.
“There’s cold medicine and pain meds next to the water, you need to take both.”
“Okay, bossy.”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes at her, but my attitude doesn’t last long. She’s struggling to open the medicine, moving on to the water bottle and having no better luck.
“Here, I’ve got it.” I’m back to kneeling by her side. Popping the caps off both bottles and unscrewing the water with ease. I press it into her hand. “Drink.” She raises an eyebrow at my tone. “Please.”
Now she smiles; it’s weak, but it’s there. She takes the water bottle and drinks half of it down. Flying is dehydrating enough—I shiver at the thought of how much worse being sick makes it.
“Thanks,” she says, playing with the cap of the bottle, eyes on her lap. The breath she takes is ragged, like she’s barely holding it together. “Seriously, thank you. I’m not sure what would have happened if you weren’t here.”
She finally looks up, and there are tears in her eyes. My heart squeezes. This soft, vulnerable side of her is something she hasn’t shared with me. If I were a betting man, I’d put money on the fact she isn’t quick to let her guard down. It’s not like I can blame her, I’m not exactly the most forthright person about all my shit either.
I lift a hand to her cheek, unable to stop myself from touching her, and swipe away a tear as it falls. “Hey. It’s alright. I’m here. I’ll be right here for as long as you need. Okay?”
She sniffles and nods, going back to avoiding my eyes. Reaching for the tissue box, she proceeds to use it to hide from me while she blows her nose and dabs at her eyes. Wanting to give her space, I focus instead on reading the label on the bottle in my hand.
“Thank you, Wes.”
Her eyes finally meet mine as she takes the offered pills and swallows them back with another swig of water. Burrowing deeper into the blankets, her eyes turn heavy. I tuck her in, swiping a tendril of hair away from her face. She grabs my hand before I can pull it away. I know she’ll be asleep in no time, but there’s something in her grey eyes that makes my breath hitch.
