Page 78 of All In

He leans his weight into me as I’m drying him off, and when I’m done, I lead him into the bedroom and lift the blankets for him.

“This sucks,” he murmurs, his teeth chattering.

“I know.” I brush a hand over his forehead, sweeping his hair back. “Let me go make you some soup. That’ll warm you up.”

He catches my hand as I’m walking away. “Cuddling will warm me up too.”

“I know it will. But food first, okay?”

Eyes falling closed, he nods. I can’t resist leaning in to drop a quick kiss on his forehead. His lips curve into a small smile, and I pull the blankets up around him.

I warm up the soup in the microwave. My mom would have made him something homemade if she were here, but she’s not, and canned will work just fine for tonight. If he’s not feeling at least a little better tomorrow, I’ll call her and see if she’ll bring us some of her veggie soup.

Harlow is sitting up in the bed when I get back into the room. He doesn’t seem to be shivering as hard, but he’s also tucked completely into the blankets, only his face poking out around the fabric he has pulled up all around him.

I can’t help but smile. “You look adorable.”

He rolls his eyes with a huff. “Sure. Weird kink you’ve got for men on their deathbed.”

“My kink is actually men with a flair for the dramatic.”

He laughs, but it’s rough and raw. “Yeah, that checks out.”

Balancing the bowl in my left hand, I crawl into the bed next to Harlow and stir the soup.

He starts to pull his arm out, but I shake my head. “I’ll feed you.”

Eyes blowing wide, he carefully tucks his arm back into the blanket.

Spoonful by spoonful, I feed him the soup. Halfway through, his eyes are starting to droop, and by the time he’s finished, he’s nearly falling asleep sitting up.

I set the bowl down on the end table and get Harlow settled into the blankets.

“Cuddle me,” he croaks out.

Slipping in beside him, I pull him into my arms. He comes instantly, resting his head on my chest. He breathes out, burrowing deeper into my body.

I’m almost asleep when he twitches in his sleep and jolts awake. “You okay?” I whisper.

He hums. “Yeah.”

He’s quiet for a few minutes, then he sighs. “You really like me, huh?”

My eyes pop open, and my eyebrows draw together. “Um… yes? We’ve been friends our entire lives. Of course I like you.”

He sighs again, this time a little more frustrated. “No, I mean… Never mind.”

My heart thumps, the air seeming to still around us. I have no idea why, but this feels… vital. Real. And I can’t let it go. “No… not never mind. Tell me.”

“It just—It feels like maybe you like me.”

The words squeeze my heart to the point of pain, panic and want flooding my veins in equal measure. How do I even answer that? I’m not sure I can lie to him. I can’t tell him I love him, but I can at least give him this, right?

“And if I do? If I do like you?” I ask softly, my heart hammering loudly in my ears and my stomach a mess of knots.

He goes so long without answering that I’m sure he’s fallen back asleep. I’m not sure if I should be relieved or disappointed.

Both, I think. A little of both.