I shift, preparing to move off the bed to let him rest, but he reaches for my hand and says, “Stay with me?”
“Of course.”
Whit lies next to me, sleeping fitfully, until his fever breaks and he’s out like the dead. I ease off the bed and go to the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets until I find a can of chicken noodle soup. I locate a pot and have it warming on the stove when the door opens and Justin and Pete walk in.
“Hey,” I say, stirring the pot.
“What are you doing here?”
“Whit…he’s a sick. And asleep.”
“He said he felt bad last night.” Pete says, walking over and giving me a kiss. Justin follows, kissing my neck and looking into the pot.
“You need anything else?”
“Nah, I’m not even sure he can eat this. His fever is pretty high.”
“Don’t get sick yourself while taking care of him,” Pete adds.
“I’ll try.” I tap my fingers on the counter. “Should we call his dad?”
The boys exchange a glance.
“What?”
Pete grimaces. “I don’t think they’re getting along well right now. Things got kind of tense at the end of the semester.”
“Because of the Citadel?”
“He doesn’t like it,” Justin says. “And his dad doesn’t care. If Whit’s going to college, it has to be at the Citadel or his father won’t pay for it.”
“That sucks.”
“They’ll work it out,” Pete says, but he doesn’t sound convinced.
Justin slides onto a stool at the counter. “How was your day with the reporter?”
“Exhausting. I just feel weird talking about all this. It’s ancient history and not my history, either. Thank goodness Nick was there. He kept her busy with photography talk.”
“Are you supposed to see her again?” Pete asks.
“She’s supposed to call tomorrow, but I think I’m going to bail. My mom will be home in a few days and we’ll have the party and she can finish the interview there.”
“If you need us to run interference, we can do that,” Justin says.
“No, it’s fine. It’s just been a long two days. I thought Donald Gaskins was behind us, but his ghost keeps following us around.”
The soup comes to a boil and I find a bowl in the kitchen and ladle in a few scoopfuls. “I’m going to head back in—you guys should stay away from the plague. Someone can stay at my place tonight, if you want.”
“If you’re so tired are you sure you need to be here?”
I hold the bowl in both hands. “Honestly, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
I leave the boys in the kitchen and head back into Whit’s bedroom. His eyes flutter when I walk in and he stretches his arms over his head. “Did you bring me food?”
“Soup. If you think you can eat it.”
He nods. “Thank you.”
