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I couldn’t laugh with him.
I couldn’t get close to him.
This had to stop now, before I found myself in a much bigger world of hurt.
With my mind made up, I said, “Thanks for this today, Jack. I had fun. But it’s getting colder, so I should probably get inside, shower, and get warmed up.”
There was no missing the look of disappointment that washed over Jack’s expression. Even if he was upset by me calling it quits, he didn’t say. Instead, he returned, “Yeah. It’s getting late, and I should probably check on the animals anyway. I’m glad you had a good time, because I did, too.”
The next thing I knew, Jack and I were walking back to the cabins. When it was time for me to break off from him to head toward mine, he said, “Have a good night, Dakota.”
“Thanks, Jack. You too.”
A minute later, I was inside, away from him, and feeling an overwhelming sense of longing to be back in the snow with Jack’s body on top of mine.
Yep.
There was no question about it.
Today might have been fun, but it was such a bad idea.
EIGHT
Dakota
Past
I’d never felt this bad before in my life.
I hadn’t managed to stop coughing. My body had been going through bouts of feeling hot, then cold. I had no energy.
Overall, I just felt miserable.
So, when I heard the garage door going up, I finally felt some relief.
Tom was home. He could help me. He could take care of me.
Granted, there wasn’t a whole lot that needed to be done, seeing as I’d been spending my day lying in bed.
But it would be nice to have some comfort. A hug when I was cold. A cool cloth on my forehead when I was hot.
And a refresh on the fluids.
My throat hurt so much, I really would have liked a cup of hot tea. But I didn’t have the energy to stand long enough to make it for myself.
A few minutes after I’d heard the garage door close, I heard Tom call out, “Dakota?”
I didn’t have the energy to yell, nor did I think my throat would tolerate it. So, I waited. I knew he’d eventually walk in and find me.
Tom didn’t know I was sick.
It started to hit me about thirty minutes after he left for work this morning, and since I knew he was going to be tied up in meetings all day long, I couldn’t call him to tell him anything.
When the bedroom door opened, Tom saw me in bed and immediately asked, “Have you been in bed all day?”
“I’m so sick,” I told him. “Thank God you’re home.”
The second he heard that I was sick, Tom stopped in his tracks. A horrified look washed over him as his eyes darted back and forth between my face and his pillow. “You stayed in our bed being sick?”
