I stand up and squeeze his shoulder. “I know,” I say before moving into the kitchen. I don’t want Briggs to see my face as it morphs into something small and pained. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do, only that I have to dosomething.
I run my hands over my head, trying to use the short strands as a way to calm my racing heart. It’s no use, so I go about putting the bone broth away. I pour it into different containers before setting them outside in the snow, using the cold weather like my own refrigerator to keep our food from going bad.
Then I clean up the pot and the leftover bones. When I’ve run out of things to do in the kitchen, I go back into the living room, finding Briggs lying on the couch again, looking adorably sleepy.
Briefly, I touch his forehead, gauging his temperature. He’s starting to warm up but not dangerously so. He’ll have to take some more medicine soon but I’m trying to stretch it out as much as I can.
“I’m gonna get the fire going again and then I’m going to do a little work outside, okay?”
“Okay,” he says, his voice just barely above a whisper. “I think I’ll get some sleep. Help with my recovery.”
“Great plan,” I say, turning away from him and focusing on the fire. I stack a few logs on it, making sure the fire is going before stepping away and outside.
Taking a deep breath, I use the cold air to help clear my head. Then I get to work. It doesn’t take long to find what I’m looking for. There’s a sled in the shed, one that will work for what I have in mind.
I might not be the most handy when it comes to building but by the time I’m done, I have a sled that should be big enough to carry a man lying down. My stomach quakes with fear, hopingagainst all odds I won’t have to use this but if it comes to that, at least we’ll be prepared. I store it in the shed before going back inside.
Checking on Briggs makes the dread in my stomach even worse. His fever is back and it takes a lot of coaxing before I can get him to swallow another pill. By the time he gets it down, his entire body is shivering. His face is so pale, his eyes so far away. I hate seeing him like this.
“You’re okay,” I keep saying, helping him bundle up with blankets again. “You’re okay, Briggs. We’ll get through this. You’ll be okay.”
I don’t know if he even understands what I’m saying but I say it nonetheless, maybe because I’m the one who needs to hear it.
“Wade?”
I kneel down beside the couch, pushing some of Briggs’ hair away from his face. “Yeah?”
“My throat hurts.”
“I know. It’ll get better.”
“Okay,” he says, his eyes blinking shut as he falls back to sleep.
I run my fingers through his hair, taking this moment just to stare at him. I’ve done my best to keep my feelings locked tight inside of myself. I can’t ruin whatever we have going on. We’re stuck together for the long haul and the last thing I want to do is make Briggs uncomfortable because I have these feelings budding up inside of me. I can’t do anything that’ll put either of us at risk. I can’t do anything that’ll rock the boat and fuck up the good thing we have going on.
Even so, I allow myself this moment. Briggs is sleeping, so he probably won’t even remember my moment of weakness. He won’t know that I’m sitting here at his bedside, pining for a life I know we can’t have.
Leaning forward, I kiss his forehead, thankful it’s not as hot as it could be. My chest is a war of emotions. Standing up, I get towork, preparing our bags and making sure our blankets are all clean and ready, just in case.
I keep hoping that the fever will break but it just won’t. The meds help, but it’s like putting a bandaid over a gaping wound, it can only do so much.
It’s the third day of this fever and I can’t keep hoping. Every day, Briggs looks a little more pale. His voice is completely gone. His throat is so swollen it’s starting to make his neck look round. This infection is going to start spreading down to his heart or his lungs or his brain if I don’t figure out something to stop it. What I need is antibiotics but so far, I haven’t been able to find any.
I crawl onto the couch, pulling Briggs against my chest. I bring my arms around him, holding him tight. I know I shouldn’t be doing this but I’m allowing myself to indulge. If this all goes up in flames, at least I’ll have this moment, forever frozen in my mind.
I hold Briggs as he shakes, the meds not kicking in quite yet. I hold him until his body goes slack and the scowl on his face fades away. I hold him until my chest stops aching. I hold him because I’m not sure if I’ll get to hold him like this again.
“Wade,” Briggs murmurs in his sleep. Maybe I’m just wishfully thinking since his voice cracks on the word but I’m pretty certain it was my name. He’s reaching out for me, even if his body won’t let him.
Finally, I make a decision. It’s risky but I can’t think of anything else that might help. I won’t lose him. I’ll do everything in my power to find him what he needs. Unfortunately, I need to leave in order to do this and if I leave for too long, Briggs will be lost to me by the time I get back. This fever gets so hot at times it could kill him.
No, I can’t just leave him, which means we’ll be trying out the sled I built a few days ago.
With my mind made up, all that’s left for me to do is actually put things into motion. I get the sled pulled up to the door, cover it with blankets so that the ride won’t be too bumpy as I pull it. I make sure our bags are packed. Then I get Briggs off the couch, covered in layers of clothing, his jacket and then getting him out onto the sled.
Briggs is so out of it as I move him, somewhere between being passed out and awake. I hate seeing him like this. I miss his voice. I miss his snarky comments. I miss his kindness.
He’s right here in front of me, yet I’ve never felt so alone. His body is here but he’s drifting, this fever stealing him from me. Fuck, I hate this.
