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“And you’ve figured doing it with a fever is a good thing?” he snaps.
“Well, I didn’t have a fever when Grace dropped me off after chemo. It’s fine. I’ll just grab what I have and go home,” I try to push him back, but the only thing it does is make me sway harder.
“You’re not going anywhere on your own. You can barely walk as it is.” His hand slides around my waist, and he pulls me to him. “Let’s get you home.”
This time, I don’t even try to protest. I let him drag me out of the store and help me into his car and buckle me in.
The moment the door is closed, I lean my head against the window, enjoying the coolness of the glass on my skin even as a shudder runs down my spine. I’m so focused on it that I barely notice the drive, or maybe I just dozed off because the next thing I know, the cool air is hitting my face, and then Prescott’s arms are around me as he pulls me to his chest.
I blink a few times, trying to bring him into focus.
“You shouldn’t carry me,” I mumble as my head leans against his shoulder. “Your leg…”
“My leg is fine. Where’s the key?”
“Bag.”
There’s abangas the front door closes behind us.
“Can you get it out for me?”
He isn’t even winded as he walks us up the stairs. With trembling fingers, I work the bag’s zipper and slide the keys out just as we stop in front of my apartment. He crouches down, and it takes me a few tries since my fingers are shaky, but finally, I manage to slide the key in place and unlock the door.
The apartment is quiet when we get inside, and Prescott takes me straight to my room.
“You’re shivering,” Prescott murmurs, his face serious as he tucks me in.
“It’s been happening more lately. It’s like my body is fighting it.”
Prescott presses his lips in a tight line. His brows are pulled together, creases marring the skin.
“I’m fine,” I whisper. “Really. You should g-go.”
“You’re in bed, shivering with a fever. You’re anything but fine. I’ll call Nix—”
“No,” I grab his hand before he can pull away.
“What? You can’t be alone when you’re sick.”
“You can’t call Nixon. He has some draft stuff he’s dealing with. I can’t…” I shake my head. “I’m not going to mess this thing up for him with my disease too. I’ll be fine on my own. It’s not like this is the first time—”
“Jade…”
“—I’ve dealt with it,” I finish, ignoring his protest. “It’ll be fine.”
“Stop saying it’ll be fine,” Prescott yells. “It’s not fine, and you shouldn’t be alone!”
“Then what do you want me to do?” I shout back, panting.
“I don’t want you to be alone. I can’t…”
“Then you stay with me.” The words are out before I can think them over and realize the implication. His eyes widen at the invitation, so I rush out to say. “Until somebody comes home, that is.”
The uncertainty is clear on Prescott’s face. “Until somebody comes home?”
Because he can’t be here? Or he doesn’t want to be here? Maybe he’s moved on. It’s been weeks since we broke up. Maybe he found somebody else. Somebody who doesn’t have cancer. Unlike me.
“Yeah,” I look away. “Although I’m sure you have better things…”
