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“Just today.” Dom’s voice broke through the fog. “But she’s been out for days. I’ve been checking on her. She keeps insisting she’s fine. Her temperature’s been stable at thirty-eight degrees Celsius.”
Harry huffed. “Stable at thirty-eight degrees Celsius is not stable.” I could practically hear him glaring, running his hand through his hair, something he only did when he was worried. “Why didn’t you call me earlier?” he sighed as he brushed my sticky hair back from my forehead.
“I thought it was just a normal fever. She’s been up and about fine, just not going to work.” There was an easy coolness on my cheeks as Harry pressed them with the back of his fingers. Then under my jaw, then down my neck. I groaned at the pressure. I wanted to sleep, to get away from this heat. If I slept, I could heal, but I’d been chasing sleep for days, weeks, with no sign of catching it, the heat growing every night. Everything was uncomfortable, and everything ached.
“It’s not the worst fever I’ve seen, but I’m not happy about it. Cat, can you hear me?”
“I’m here.” I could barely speak.
My throat was so parched. All that came out was a hoarse whisper.
“I’m going to give Dom some medicine to help bring your fever down. It’ll take a few days, but he’ll keep coming to check on you.” I heard some shuffling. I assumed it was Harry turning to Dom. “Won’t he?” Harry was best when he was in mother-hen mode. I imagined he was giving Dom one of his stern looks. He used to hit us with those when we were playing as kids. He was always a doctor. “Here,” he murmured. “Sit up.”
It ached to move, but I was grateful as he brought the rim of a mug to my lips and helped me drink, the cool water running down my burning throat.
“Yeah, Cat, honey, listen.” Dom’s voice came through the dizziness. “I have a few meetings this morning, but I can bring my laptop here after that. I’ll bring soup. I’ll bring movies. I’ll bring cards. We can make a thing of it, get you back up in no time.”
He was trying to lighten the mood, but they both sounded too worried. I’d been taking whatever pills Dom had been giving me from the chemist, but it obviously wasn’t working. I should have called Harry as soon as I felt ill. He wouldn’t have minded, but I was too damn proud.
The boys went to the living room and let me be. But I couldn’t sleep. All I could do was toss and turn and hope my mind would slow down enough to let me rest.
I’d been trying to fly under the radar since the party. I’d given Max too much. He’d been too close to having it all. One more step, and I would have fallen into bed with him and never left. I knew it was cowardly. I was still beating myself up over it, but I couldn’t let this go any further. I wanted him too much, and I couldn’t protect myself anymore.
I’d made excuses all week for reasons I couldn’t attend Mum’s various functions, especially the ones I knew Bunny would be attending. I ended up with a lecture from Mum on how I’d missed Stacie Devereaux’s gender reveal — she hadactualpoodles dyed pink and blue, and they jumped through hoops! Tragic. Really.
Now I was suffering the consequences.
I could only blame myself. I’d been trying to avoid the office after Lucy burst in two days after the party, beaming, telling me someone had left a message for a ‘Kitty Cat’. She loved a good story, but her face fell when my eyes went dark, and I asked her to leave in the voice I usually reserve for court battles. I didn’t want Max anywhere near my work. Our business there was done. I’d made the mistake again of expecting him to follow the rules. The rules neither of us spoke about, the rules only realised when one of us broke them.
I couldn’t shake the memory of the depth of his passion when he leant back from our kiss and confessed his love for me. I’d had entire days staring out my office window, picturing his hooded, pleasure-soaked eyes, the slashes of red on his cheeks, those fucking rings on his ear.
I had to tell him this needed to end. He had to go back to his charade with Bunny, focus on his career, and forget about me.
We’d begun to strip down the barriers between us, but the pain had been sneaking back in. This thing, whatever it was, had stopped being about power and controlling him and was morphing into real love. The last time we were together, I wasn’t using him; I wasn’t punishing him; I wanted to see him come undone because I enjoyed watching him. I loved it. He was beautiful, and he was mine.
What scared me the most was that I couldn’t stop the soft feminine part of myself from wanting to give in to him. When he reached for me, held me, kissed me, I wanted to show him my vulnerability, let him take me, love me, and show me how good we were together. Even though he’d done nothing solid to prove he was trustworthy or safe or even a decent human being.
This seesaw of ‘I’m going to kill him, I’m going to fuck him’ had worn me down to the point where my body had thrown up a white flag, and now I was paying the price.
If I made a decision, I had to stick to it, not get turned around by every passing wind. I hated fighting with myself. Everything had become chaotic since he’d walked back into my life. I prided myself on my tightly reined control, yet with one smile from him, everything had come undone.
How was I meant to say goodbye to Max when he affected me so deeply? He let me ravage his body, cried out my name, and still wanted more. It was torture, and I didn’t know how long I could last.
Cat
Dom came to see me every day that week. He kept his promise, setting up his laptop at the desk in my room while I powered through every Netflix docuseries I’d been missing out on the past three years.
It took almost a week, but the fever was subsiding. I was still ill, a groggy feeling of wrongness crowding every one of my senses, but at least I could finally think.
Dom was lounging on the bed, lying on his side, and massaging my feet. It was heaven. We were both pretending I didn’t stink from sweating for days on end.
We’d found time to talk about work: family, philosophy, travelling, books, movies —anything and everything except the one thing we were both resolutely avoiding. I didn’t want to touch it. It was bad enough that I’d already confessed it all to Jazz. She only saw the tail end of the fight with Venom and didn't realise I’d disappeared for an hour, but she knew about everything else. She’d weeded every single detail out of me, and it was excruciating.
Jazz had a different view of the months I spent locked in my room with Grace after I left Max. Jazz didn’t pick me up every morning, bring me to class, and sit with me every day to make sure I studied like Dom had at uni. She hadn’t held me or got drunk with me or seen me at my absolute worst. For her, her two big sisters spent a summer in their rooms while she was away filming forSummer Dreams, her breakout drama where she played the token child character.
Dom knew how deeply fractured I was, and although I loved him like a brother, I didn’t want to have this conversation with someone who loathed Max as much as I did. Or used to.
Plus, I couldn’t see Dom loving the stories of the dreams or the parties. As far as he was aware, Max and I danced together over a month ago, and that was it.
