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fourteen
scarlett
“Is it bad I can’t feel my tongue?” Grey’s muffled voice comes through the phone as I’m typing up the projected expense report for the gala. The event is approaching quickly and Hattie will have my head on a platter if I don’t get this to her by the end of the day.
“You what? Don’t tell me you looked it up?” I respond, crinkling my brows as I pour over the numbers.
“Yeah, I did. I have a killer headache and looking at the screen too long hurts. After it said I was probably dying of a rare brain disease, I gave up.”
Smirking to myself, I let out a puff of air. “I’m sure it’s just a summer cold. I’ll check on you when I pick up Theo.”
* * *
Armed with a sackfull of chicken soup, a book, and his favorite snacks, I stride into Grey’s house only to see him hunched over on the couch. A corner of my mouth twitches as I take in the SoS beanie affixed to his head, blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a box of Kleenex half empty on the coffee table, the stack of used ones scattered all over the top. I’m still irritated with him for showing off at the rock-climbing wall, but seeing him sick, the annoyance floats away.
He barely even turns to look at me before slumping back into the couch. “I’m dying, Scar. Google was right.” His voice is thick with congestion and his nose is crimson from all the blowing.
“Oh, you poor baby,” I croon, setting the paper sack on his island before grabbing an electrolyte drink from his fridge.
“It’s not a laughing matter. Doctor Google said it’s incurable. Better plan my funeral now because I feel like death is on my doorstep.”
“Honestly, it’s probably just the man flu.” I say as I run my hand across his burning forehead.
He springs open an eye. “What’s that?”
“You’re serious? You’ve never heard of the man flu?” I cover my mouth and exaggerate the widening of my eyes to match his before erupting into a fit of giggles.
“Why are you laughing? Is this some sort of hysterical thing where you’re trying hard not to tell me I’m going to die?” he squeaks out.
I palm his flushed cheeks and he leans into the coolness of my hands, reminding me of little Theo when he caught the flu. Something about this strong, virile man who can scale skyscrapers of rock and trek miles in the dense forests, being so vulnerable—it’s endearing. Cute, even. I’ve only seen Greyson sick once in my lifetime and it wasn’t from an illness.
“Never google your symptoms. Ever. Ninety-nine percent of the time, it will say you’re dying when it’s just a simple cold. Or your case, the flu. The man part is because of your bellyaching.”
“But it hurts so bad.” He rocks back into the blanket, closing his eyes and sighing a deep, pained groan as a shiver wracks through his body.
I crunch up my brows. “Are you sure you’re all right? You almost never get sick.”
“Just a little stressed, but nothing I can’t handle.” My stomach dips slightly and he must read the worry on my face. “It’s nothing, I promise. It’s busy season and it finally caught up to me.”
Raking my gaze over his sick pallor and the blue veins vivid on his closed eyelids, I soften my voice. “Well, I’m here if you need to vent about anything.”
“Right now, I want to know how do I get rid of it?”
Cracking open the drink, I hold it to his dry lips. “Hydrate, rest, repeat. That’s about all you can do. I’m early, but do you want me to take Theo now so you can go to bed?” I pat his arm through his blanket, and he flinches. His muscles must really hurt him.
He snakes a hand out and curls his fingers around my wrist when I attempt to move away. “No, please stay. He’s in his room, lost in a video game. I don’t want to be alone. You know, in case I take a turn for the worse.”
A pathetic chuckle ekes out of his chest and I shake my head, feeling my resolve melt away. “Let me get you some medicine, and yes, I’ll stay, but if you get me sick, you’ll have to take care of me.”
“Always,” he whispers before his eyes flutter shut and that one word lays over me like the softest blanket because I know he would.
Snagging the book from the bag and some cold meds he’s allowed to take, I hand Grey the pills before plopping down beside him.
“I brought over a new paperback for us to read.” I smooth a hand over the glossy cover.
He pops a pill in his mouth, balancing it between his teeth before washing it down with some water. “Can we skip to the steamy scenes instead of making me read those to myself?”
Even sicker than a dog, he’s kept his humor. I tap his shoulder with the book. “No. Reading sex scenes out loud with you is not happening, pal. I picked a slow burn, so they probably don’t even do it until the last few chapters, anyway.”
