Heading into the kitchen, I find a cloth and wet it with cold water, bringing it back over to Jack and gently placing it on his forehead. He hums as the cool cloth meets his skin, and I dab it on his cheeks as he closes his eyes. “That feels good,” he says quietly.
I shush him, continuing to move the cloth to the hot skin on his neck, but he opens his eyes.
“Look at me,” he whispers, so I do, meeting his gaze. His hand comes to cup my cheek from where he’s laying down, and I settle beside him sitting on the couch. “I could look at you forever,” he says, but his eyes have a glaze to them that tells me he’s barely conscious right now, the cold medicine taking effect no matter how hard he tries to fight it.
“We have to get you up to bed,” I tell him.
“The first time I saw you, I knew you were going to be okay. You had to be.” The words seem odd, random even. The first time he saw me, we were in the middle of a coffee shop.
“Okay, firefighter.” I stand up, setting the cloth on the coffee table, trying to reign in my smile at his gibberish. He probably has no idea what he’s saying, maybe isn’t even fully awake right now.
“And I knew I was going to be okay,” he adds as I grab his arms, helping him sit up. “I saw it in your eyes. The peace I only ever found on the lake.”
There he goes again about my eyes. It reminds me of what he said on our way to the drive-in, how my eyes were the same color of the lake he fished on.
“I saw it when I found you.”
When he found me?
He makes running into each other by complete chance at Hey Honey’s that day seem like an act of the universe, like something so simple was bound to happen.
Then again, maybe it was.
Pulling him by the arms, he finally sits up from the couch, slowly standing, so we can head to the stairs.
With an arm around my shoulder, I help him up each stair, holding onto him with one arm and the railing with the other to keep us both steady.
It takes a while, every step Jack puts more and more weight on me, but we finally make it up to his bedroom.
“There we go, “ I say, pulling back the comforter and sheets and helping him to bed.
“I was planning on asking you to be my girlfriend tonight,” he says as his head hits the pillow. I barely hear him with how heavy my breathing is, completely out of breath from helping him up those stairs.
Lifting his tree trunks of legs with all of my strength, I help him under the covers. “Don’t worry about that right now,” I reassure him, grabbing his comforter and pulling it over his body.
“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asks, his voice thick and hoarse and slightly muffled from how he’s laying on his pillow.
I can’t help but laugh. “I’m not sure now is the time you want to have this conversation.”
“Please,” he begs, and the way he says it is something I know he’d be embarrassed about if he was going to even rememberthis conversation. “I promise I’ll be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.”
“That’s not really helping your case right now.” I run my hand through his hair as I sit beside him, feeling how hot his forehead is—his fever definitely hasn’t broken yet.
He ignores me, continuing to speak as if I didn’t say anything. “And then I’ll be the best husband, and, if you let me, the best dad to Evee.” His words trail off as the cold medicine takes effect, his eyelids closing as if they weigh a thousand pounds.
What the hell did he just say?
CHAPTER 34
JACK
When I saidlast weekend was the night Rumi and I finally got a whole night alone, little did I know the universe was going to say “fuck you” and kick me in the balls.
I don’t think I have ever been that sick in my entire life, and I blame Anderson for coming to the station sick after going to his nephew’s birthday party.
I’m thankful Rumi stayed healthy, even after coming over and spending the night.
While most of the night is a blur, I do remember Rumi taking care of me, pressing cool towels to my head, running her hands through my hair, and wrapping her body around mine when she was looking for heat in the middle of the night.
