Page 112 of Once Upon a Fall

And I was just useless. A bump on a log. A sack of potatoes. A screen door on a submarine.

I think I’ve made my point.

I don’t know all I said to him, because I was half out of my mind. But I think at one point I called him my magical fairy.

It’s too bad this flu couldn’t have put me out of my misery. It would have saved me from this embarrassment I’m feeling.

“You’re awake,” he says when he comes into my room, looking freshly showered, the scruff on his face slightly longer than normal. He smells like soap and something woodsy. And maybe Christmas morning. And puppies. And world peace. Basically, everything good.

I might not have turned a corner after all.

“Yes, I’m alive,” I tell him.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

I bob my head back and forth. The movement makes me feel lightheaded. “A little,” I say.

“Be right back.”

I prop myself up in bed, and a few minutes later, Dean brings me a bowl of steaming chicken noodle soup. It’s not the same one I’ve had the past couple of days, the one Emma brought over.

“Did you make more soup?” I ask him.

He shrugs a shoulder. “We ran out of the other one.”

I take a bite and moan. The deep flavor of the broth, the soft noodles, and the tender pieces of chicken taste amazing.

“This is the best chicken soup I’ve ever had,” I tell him.

He chuckles. “I’m sure.”

“I’m being serious.”

I take another bite, feeling so much better than I have in days. And so grateful for this man sitting at the end of my bed.

I owe him so much. I’ve quit trying to figure out how to pay him back. I don’t think I ever can.

“You’re supposed to be in Manhattan,” I say once I’ve eaten every bite and set the empty bowl on my side table.

“I worked it out,” he says.

“So, the job . . . the contract . . . it’s fine?”

“Totally fine,” he says. He rubs a hand over his jaw. “I’ve been getting them started from here, actually. Doing it over video.”

Relief runs through me. I was afraid to ask him. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to handle it if he’d lost that job because of me.

And yes, I know he’s a grown adult and can make his own choices, and he didn’t have to stay. I know all of that. Even so, I would have felt terrible if he lost his job. I would have had to bring out the words I had for him. The fever-induced ones.

“So, wait,” I say, clasping my hands in my lap. “You’ve been running the inn, taking care of me, and starting your next contract?”

He only nods.

“Oh, and the farm,” I say, remembering the actual reason Dean came to town—not to play house with me. “You’re also selling a farm. Are you . . . Superman?”

I’m only half joking.

“No,” he laughs, leaning back on one hand. “I’ve made it work.”