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“Cooper,” I repeated.
I heard a ragged and strained breath, not quite a moan. Pushing the door open, I hurried across the room to his bed. The sheets were twisted around his waist. “Farrah?” he croaked.
“Cooper, are you okay? You don’t sound okay.”
I could hear the congestion in his lungs with every breath. I reached to turn on the lamp on his bedside table. His hair was damp, and I brushed it away from his forehead, resting the back of my hand there for a moment. He was clearly feverish, and his skin was flushed and splotchy.
His eyes opened. They were glassy and red-rimmed. “I just got home,” he rasped, his throat sounding scratchy.
“No, you didn’t,” I muttered fiercely. “You’ve been home since Beck dropped you off yesterday afternoon. And you’re sick!” My sharp voice notched an octave higher with each word. I tried to batten down the worry rising swiftly inside.
He shook his head, mumbling, “No, no, no. I just got home like an hour or so ago.”
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. “I came over because I didn’t even know you were back from the fire. When Wes came by the clinic, I realized you were home and didn’t even know it. Since I have Humpty, I thought you would’ve called.” I smoothed his hair back from his forehead. He was still dressed.
“Cooper,” I said, a little more firmly this time. His eyes dragged up to mine. “Have you had ibuprofen or anything to drink or eat?” I pressed.
He rolled his head back and forth on the pillow.
“Okay. We’re getting you situated. Be right back.”
With worry churning uncomfortably inside, I stood and walked out of his bedroom into his kitchen. There wasn’t much of anything in his refrigerator or in his cabinets.
I knew he didn’t keep much stocked in his kitchen. It wasn’t that he couldn’t take care of himself. He had mentioned that when he went out into the backcountry, he didn’t like to worry about things going bad while he was gone, so he tended to shop week to week.
I made the abrupt decision that I was going to get him over to my place one way or another. I marched back into his bedroom. “Cooper,” I said firmly.
His eyes opened slowly, his gaze still glassy and weary. “I want to get you up and in the shower. Then you’re going to change and come over to my place. I have soup and crackers and plenty of ibuprofen. I even have medication for the flu, if that’s what you have.”
He started to shake his head, but I persisted. Driven by my intense concern, I dragged that man out of bed, despite his stubborn reluctance. After getting the shower going, I helped him strip out of his clothes. He leaned on me, but he got into the shower on his own. I waited beside it, peering around the edge of the curtain again and again. With his hands braced on the wall, he showered. I darted into his bedroom, fetching a pair of boxer briefs, sweatpants, socks, and a shirt.
I planned to come back over and strip his bed once I got him resting in my bed. I’d take care of laundering his sheets later on, which were damp from his sweat.
A short while later, I had him across the hallway in my apartment. Humpty was happy to see him. Cooper clumsily petted him after I got him propped up with extra pillows on my couch.
He looked up at me. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely. “I guess I have a cold or the flu, or I don’t know, something that feels like shit.”
“Well, we’re starting with a Covid test,” I said practically.
A few years into living in a world with Covid, I usually kept one or two tests in my apartment. Alice didn’t want us working if we tested positive and had a firm rule that we couldn’t come in if we were sick with anything, not just Covid.
I handed him some ibuprofen and a glass of water. “I’m making chicken and dumplings right now. It won’t take long. For now, I’ll get you some tea. Do you think you can eat anything?”
He sighed heavily. “I’m fucking starving. Obviously, I must’ve been asleep since yesterday. I can’t fucking believe I slept into the next day.”
I ignored the anxiety spinning in my chest and focused on tasks to help. A few minutes later, I handed him some saltines with a steaming mug of lemon ginger tea. In short order, the Covid test had shown negative. We did two in a row to be safe. “It looks like the flu or a nasty cold. I’m guessing the flu based on your fever. You’re not going anywhere until you feel better,” I ordered.
“You don’t have to—”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not leaving you alone in your apartment. For God’s sake, no one even knew where you were.” I threw my hands up, letting them fall as I studied him. “Your truck is still at the fire station. Let me check on the soup.”
I strode swiftly across my apartment into the kitchen. I adjusted the heat under the soup and stirred it. After that, I carefully ladled the dumplings in to simmer. I kept checking on Cooper. He had the TV on and was sort of awake. His color was marginally better between the tea, crackers, and ibuprofen.
Humpty appeared concerned and had situated himself on the back of the couch. From there, he could still see out the windows and also keep an eye on Cooper.
“This tea is really good,” Cooper commented at one point, his voice raspy and weak.
My heart ached. I kept telling myself I was just worried and would be concerned for any friend, which was true. But it was more than that, and I knew it. Somehow, seeing Cooper like this, so sick and alone when I found him, brought emotions rushing fiercely to the surface. It was stupid, and I couldn’t even believe it, but I’d fallen in love with this man. All I wanted was to make sure he was okay. Only then would I be able to relax.
