Page 65

“Work,” I yawned.

I’m pretty sure he rolled his eyes, but I didn’t clock it because he was pointing a finger to the back room. “Go lie down. Now. I’m not trying to catch whatever you’re carrying.”

“I’m not sick,” I argued, but it fell short as I sneezed louder than a grown man, causing all the dogs in the back to whine and bark.

Rowen pointed to the back again, and I didn’t fight back, just trudged my way to the couch against the far office wall.

I don’t know how long I sleep—my dreams are floating in the distance. I have blurry visions of Knox and I painting pumpkins, and I think Lottie grew a bunny tail in there somewhere, but it’s hard to say. It feels like I’m asleep forever. Like time has passed so quickly in such a small amount of time that I have managed to fold the years myself and dive into the future.

I only wake—a gross exaggeration for my barely opened eyes and muffled “hmph”—when there’s a small nudge at my shoulder, and a soft, familiar voice by my ear.

“There’s my girl.” A forearm curls under my head and neck, the best-smelling pillow I have ever smelt. Smelled. Shmelt. I want to crawl into his shirt. “Let’s get you home.”

That’s the last thing I remember until I wake up in my own bed under a sea of blankets, shivering and somehow sweating all at once.

I reach for my phone, throat scratchy and dry, to see it’s nearly four o’clock and I only have an hour before Knox is supposed to be here. I get up from my bed and go to my mirror, making a poor attempt of getting my face somewhat presentable. These eye bags have got to go, and my lips are so dry, if I could just—

“What are you doing?” Knox asks in the distance. He’s here far too early for proper date etiquette I would like to point out, but my words fail me, so I try to show him I am getting ready as my response.

I lift the concealer to my face; it lands…somewhere. Boy, this room sure is fuzzy.

“Getting ready for our date.”

“Felicity.”

“Knox.”

Knox says each word like it’s its own sentence. “Get. Your. Ass. In. That. Bed.”

I lift a finger. “That’s post-date talk, I believe.”

Maybe I do have a fever, huh?

“You are in rare form today. Come on.” Knox’s two rough hands guide me gently back to the bed. I attempt a fight, but it’s a pathetic waste of energy as Knox could just blow a single breath at me and I would fall right back down under these covers. “No dates tonight. Take this.”

After two pills and a tiny cup of thick cough syrup followed by a furious chugging of my water bottle, Knox boops my nose like an emphasis on his demands.

“Sleep.”

“But our date—”

“Another night, all right? Trust me, I always repay a debt owed.”

“You still owe me from when we got cinnamon rolls last week.”

“Shh.” A blanket is brought above my face, and it takes most of my strength to laugh and pull it back down. “Let’s not worry about that right now.”

“Knox?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you’re here.” It comes out messy and spoken through a yawn, but I’m glad I had enough strength to push it out.

I’m always glad when Knox is here.

“Me too, baby.”

I drift off to sleep before I can process that too much…baby. With his hand caressing my hair and him whispering a low “shh, shh, shh” in my ear, I slip into a familiar, yet unknown place.