Page 18 of High Water

“You want help?”

“I’ve got—” She starts to stand but immediately grabs her head, wincing and then bracing against my shoulder like she might pass out again.

“Easy, honey. Here.” I sweep her up into my arms again and carry her around to the bed, laying her down gently.

“This is ridiculous. I was fine a couple of hours ago.”

“Sometimes it hits you quick. I had a flu like this once myself. Just stay here, and I’ll get you meds and something to drink. You got any requests?”

“Something with ice?”

“You got it.”

I bring her back a tall glass of ginger ale with a splash of juice, like her mom used to make us when we got sick, along with a big bottle of water and the cold meds from her purse. She takes them and lies back on the pillows, letting me cover her up with the sheet.

“Anything else?” I ask, hoping the fever reducers work their magic because I hate how flushed her cheeks are and how glassy her eyes look right now.

“No. I’m perfect. You can go. I’ve got it from here.”

“Jones, I’m not leaving you like this. You shouldn’t be alone until we’re sure that fever’s coming down.”

“You’re dressed up. You should go wherever you were going.”

“Nah, I was on my way back. I went to see my grandmother. I’ve got nothing better to do than take care of you. I’ll be out in the living room if you need me. You’ve got your phone right here.” I pat it on the nightstand. “You need me, just text. I’ll be right up.”

“You don’t have to do this.” Her brow descends.

“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

Her lashes flutter in response, like she might cry if I stick around too much longer. I don’t want to put that on her when she’s already feeling vulnerable, so I excuse myself.

“You need anything. Just text or holler. I’ll be listening.”

She nods, and I sneak out of the room, leaving the door ajar just in case.

It’s only a couple hours later, when I’m half asleep watching a documentary on the TV, that I hear what sounds like a shout coming from her room and then the faintest sound of crying. I race for the stairs and make my way up the steps as fast as I can, terrified she’s hurt herself when she’s gotten up again. But when I open the door, she’s still in bed in the dark. I can see the outline of her curled up in the fetal position on her side, and the soft sounds of her tears.

“Aspen?” I say her name quietly, afraid to scare her.

She jolts anyway but barely seems to realize it’s me. Another sob breaks free from her. I turn on her bedside light, and I see her tear-stained face and her flushed skin.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. I can assume she’s miserable, but she doesn’t respond to me in a way that makes sense. Babbling instead as she thrashes her legs, her eyes still closed despite the tears. “Aspen? Are you still asleep?”

She doesn’t answer, and I reach out to comfort her. Her skin is burning hot to the touch, and I wince. I should have just taken her to the doctor. Insisted upon it the second I saw how dizzy she was.

“I think we have to get you to a doctor.” I’m certain I’ll be faster in my truck down these mountain roads than the rural ambulance, assuming we even find one that’s available.

Her eyes open abruptly, and she pulls away from me in shock.

“What are you doing here?”

“Getting you to the doctor, honey. You’re burning up.” I move to pick her up.

“No. No. I’m not going anywhere with you.” She pulls back from my grasp. “You’re a ghost. I know you’re dead. Get out. Get out!” she wails at me.

Fuck.

I have one other option. I grab my phone from my pocket and shoot off a quick text. The doctor who serves as a medic from my former unit lives near here. Closer than the hospital I’d be taking her to at this hour of the night, and he drives like a bat out of hell on default. I get a quick response in the affirmative, and I fire off the address and directions, as well as the status of her condition. When she thrashes again, I fire off another message telling him I’ll pay any speeding ticket he gets before running to grab ice packs.