Page 146 of One of Those Amnesia Stories

“Cassian?” Her voice was a paper-thin whisper, the word cracking in the middle. She tried to shake her head, a feeble motion. “Whatever it is… come back tomorrow. I can’t—”

Her eyes lost focus. They rolled back, showing the whites for a terrifying second. Her knees buckled.

My body reacted on instinct. I lunged forward, catching her the instant her grip on the doorframe gave way. Her full weight crashed into me, and I locked my arms around her to keep her from hitting the floor.

Heat radiated through her thin T-shirt, searing against my skin. She was burning up, the warmth pouring into me so intensely that alarm shot through every nerve. I held her tighter, fear gripping me at the thought of her collapsing in my arms.

“Hey. Shhh. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

The reassurance came automatically, pulled from countless moments when she had fallen apart and I had been the one holding her through it. My hand rose to cradle the back of her sweat-damp head, fingers slipping into her hair and moving through it in slow, soothing strokes. I kept her tucked against me, holding her close while her body trembled in my arms.

A small, broken whimper escaped her. She made no attempt to pull away. Her weight sagged against me, every muscle giving up the effort to hold herself upright. Her forehead pressed against the cooler skin of my neck, seeking relief from the fever radiating through her.

She tried to lift her head, fighting to stay conscious, but the effort lasted only a moment. Her eyelids fluttered open, unfocused and bewildered, before slipping shut again. Her weight sank heavier into my arms.

I kicked the door shut with my heel, sealing us inside the dim, quiet apartment. My hand continued its slow, soothing stroke along her back as I bent down and slipped my other arm beneath her knees. I lifted her against me, adjusting my hold until her weight rested securely in my arms.

Her body felt fragile against mine, her skin radiating feverish heat through the thin fabric between us.

I carried her to the bedroom, moving carefully along the familiar route. I eased her onto the rumpled sheets, keeping one arm behind her shoulders so she remained slightly propped up instead of lying flat.

I placed my bag on the floor with a soft thud. My free hand rose, the backs of my fingers brushing against her forehead. Her skin was searing. A proper, raging fever. The touch confirmed what holding her had already screamed.

Her body ran cold year-round. Icy fingers and feet no number of socks could warm, a constant chill she carried like a secret. But on this day, it was as if her system had hoarded every stray degree of warmth for twelve months, only to dump it all on her at once in a vicious, concentrated inferno.

Her eyes opened with visible effort, pupils wide and unfocused. She looked at me, confusion clouding her face as she struggled to make sense of where she was. “What’s… happening?” The question came out thick and slurred.

My hand cupped her cheek. The skin was scorching, almost uncomfortably hot to the touch, yet she shivered beneath my palm. “You’re sick, Alessia. It’s the day.” I kept my touch gentle, trying to guide her through the haze. “I need you to sit up just a little more. Can you do that for me?”

I kept my other arm firmly around her shoulders, supporting her weight. The moment I loosened my hold, she would start to sag sideways, instinctively seeking the cool sheets beneath her.

I pulled my hand away from her cheek and fumbled with the zipper of my go-bag, my fingers clumsy with panic. I kept watching her face, tracking the flutter of her eyelids and the shallow rise and fall beneath her shirt.

She mumbled something I couldn’t make out, then sagged against my arm. Her weight kept slipping lower, dragging at my hold, her body giving in to the need to lie down.

“Not yet,” I murmured, adjusting my hold. “Medicine first.”

It took precious, frustrating seconds to find the small pill case with one hand and locate the bottle of water I’d prepared. My fingers finally closed around the cool glass. I set the pill case and bottle on the nightstand.

I turned my full attention back to her. Her eyes had drifted shut again, her entire weight leaning into the hand I still had against her burning body. She was a breath away from slipping under again.

My other hand came up to cradle her face, my palm resting gently against her cheek. I leaned closer until the space between us nearly disappeared, searching her face for some sign that she was still with me.

“Alessia?”

A faint hum escaped her, a small acknowledgment.

“Open those beautiful eyes for me, sweetheart. Just for a second.”

She fought through the heavy pull of unconsciousness, her lashes fluttering before her eyes finally opened, glassy and struggling to focus on mine.

“There you are,” I breathed, my thumbs brushing gently over her flaming cheeks. The words were relief and a plea. Stay with me.

Reluctantly, I withdrew my hands, the loss of contact immediate. I reached for the bottle on the nightstand, twisted the cap off, and shook a single, small pill into my palm. I held it up where she could see it.

“You just have to take this,” I whispered. “Just this one thing. Then you can sleep. Okay?”

She looked utterly spent, every cell begging for oblivion, but she gave a slow, weak nod. I brought the pill to her lips. Her mouth opened slightly, and I placed it on her dry tongue. Then I brought the bottle to her lips, tipping it carefully.