When I wake up, I have no idea how much time has passed but unfortunately, I feel even worse.
Chapter Ten
Wade
I stir the pot,staring down at the contents without actually seeing it. My mind is racing a million miles a minute, too many things and none of them actually sticking.
This morning I’d gone hunting, taking down a moose in my wolf form. I’d dragged it back to the cabin and painstakingly broken it down into its parts, storing most of it in the shed outside where it’ll stay cool and safe. Then I brought the bones inside, put them in a pot with some water, and set it to boil.
I remember as a child, bone broth was something my mother would make for me when I was sick. Something about it always warmed my insides and made me feel a little better. I hope I can impart that same sort of feeling for Briggs.
A cough comes from the couch, turning my insides icy cold. I’m completely out of my depth here and I don’t have a single clue what I’m supposed to do. Briggs spiked a fever overnight. He keeps saying he’s not feeling well, that it’s just a cold and it’ll blow over soon. My gut tells me there’s more to it.
I look down at the container of medicine we’ve gathered. I only have so much fever reliever. Eventually, we’ll run out and whenit does, what the hell are we supposed to do? If I can’t keep the fever away, Briggs is going to suffer. He’ll get worse and all I’ll be able to do is sit by and watch him waste away.
I slap my own cheek, hard enough to stop that train of thought. Fuck. I can’t sit here and catastrophize! I’ve gotta start making a plan. Plan for the worst, prepare for everything.
Once I’m pretty sure the broth is done, I strain everything out and put some into a bowl. I give it a taste, making sure it’s right before bringing it into the living room.
Briggs blinks up at me from his place across the couch, a blanket tucked tightly around himself. The fire is going and I note that I’ll need to add a few logs to it soon to keep it going. I want this place nice and warm for Briggs.
Briggs has been my beacon in a dark time. He’s the light at the end of the tunnel. Hell, he quite literally saved my life. The least I can do is help him while he’s sick. I can nurse him back to health. I can figure out a way to save him, even if this isn’t as dire as my situation.
Maybe I can repay him just a tiny bit. Maybe I can show him what he means to me. Maybe I can finally explain to him exactly the way he makes me feel.
“Hey,” I say softly, sitting on the ground next to his head. “Can you sit up for me?”
“I’m fine,” Briggs says right away, his voice coming out strained. “I can try to eat but no promises. My throat feels like I’m swallowing glass.”
I wince in sympathy. “Try for me, okay? You need to keep your strength up.”
“Fine, but only for you, Wade. If it was anyone else I’d have refused.”
Something warm curls in my gut despite the gravity of the situation. How does Briggs always know exactly what to say?
Briggs carefully sits up, the blanket pooling around his waist. He takes the bowl from me, tipping it up to his mouth to drink from it.
“This is really good, Wade. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I stare at him for a long time before I finally feel brave enough to ask. “Can I see inside your mouth? I wanna check your throat.”
“I wanna make a dirty joke but I’m just too tired,” he says, a barely there smile on his lips. I scoot closer and Briggs opens his mouth, letting me see his throat.
My stomach sinks at what I see. His throat and tonsils are inflamed and bright red. On top of that, there appears to be a white film building up around the skin. It almost looks like mold and I know what that means.
When I was a kid, a bunch of my classmates all got sick with strep throat at the same time from sharing a water bottle. It looked and smelled exactly like this.
“I think you have strep throat,” I say softly, sitting back on my heels.
“Oh,” Briggs says softly. He goes back to sipping his bone broth, taking the new information in. “Fuck. Okay. It could be worse, I guess?”
“It could be worse,” I say, parroting his words. Except, I can’t imagine something being worse than this. Sure, there’s a chance that strep can go away on its own but as far as I remember, the kids in my class all needed to be on antibiotics to help kill the bacterial infection in their throats and if left untreated, can cause other scary complications.
Fucking hell. What am I supposed to do now? We don’t have antibiotics and as much as I’ve explored, I haven’t found a store or pharmacy that could have some.
“Hey,” Briggs says softly, “it’s gonna be okay.” His eyes are clear, but that’s only because there’s fever reducers in hissystem. What will he look like when we run out? How bad is this going to get while I sit around, unable to help?
Fuck, I don’t know if I can do this.
