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I let out a loud snort. “As if. You could barely cross the hallway. Just lie down. I’ll go grab some medicine.”
A scratching on the harness reminds me that I have yet to take it off Henry.
“Henry,” I tap the side of my leg, and Henry immediately comes to me, so I bend down and take the harness off of him before patting the mattress. “Keep an eye on him until I get back, okay?”
The dog whines unhappily but does as I ask. Leaving the room, I go back to the front door, locking it, before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. On my way back to my room, I stop in the bathroom to pick up some Tylenol and my thermometer.
When I get back to my bedroom, the place is quiet except for Sebastian’s shallow breathing. Stepping inside, I call out gently, “Sebastian?”
“Mhmm?” his voice comes out groggy, but at least he’s awake.
Crossing the room, I stop next to the bed, placing all the things I brought on the nightstand. Grabbing the thermometer, I sit on the edge of the mattress. “Let me take your temperature first.”
Extending my hand, my fingers find a way to his warm cheek. Sebastian hisses softly, his face leaning into my touch.
“You feel so good,” he whispers.
“That’s because you’re burning up.”
With a vague idea of where to put it, I lift the thermometer, place it against his forehead, and press the button.
“This is the first time you’ve touched my face.”
I suck in a breath, my whole body freezing for a moment.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s extremely invasive, and I should have…”
“You never have to apologize for touching me.”
Before I can say anything to his statement, the machine beeps, so I turn it to him. “What does it say?”
“102.3.”
“Well, that sucks.” Turning off the thermometer, I place it on the nightstand and grab the bottle with Tylenol. “I need you to take these.”
Slipping two tablets into my palm, I hand them to him, but he pushes my hand away.
“I can’t.”
“What? You’re burning up, you need to take some medicine, or you won’t get better.”
“I can’t,” he insists, his voice sharper.
I let out an exasperated sigh. “Sebastian…”
“I’m an addict, Penelope,” he shouts, his loud voice making me pull back in surprise. “Happy? I’m an addict, and I don’t want to take any pills if I don’t really have to.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
SEBASTIAN
I’m an addict, Penelope.
My words ring in the otherwise quiet room. Although my eyes feel itchy, I keep them locked on Penelope’s face. I’m not sure what I was expecting to find there when I let the words slip. Disgust? Distrust? Repulsion?
But the only thing that flashes on her face is shock. She blinks a few times as she processes what I just told her before schooling her features and nodding.
“Okay.”
