When I got out of bed and my stomach rumbled, a real, hungry rumble, it propelled me to the kitchen for the first time in days. I saw familiar broad shoulders that tapered down to the curve of a muscular ass, just inside the refrigerator door. Oliver’s head bobbed up and down.
“Are you fucking kidding me? I get sick and you turn into a barbarian?”
He jumped a mile, dropping the fork covered in cold spaghetti sauce on the floor. “Holy shit.” He waited for his heart to catch up. “You’re up.”
“Yep. And you’re eating straight out of the refrigerator.”
He grabbed a napkin off the counter and wiped his mouth. “I was hungry.”
“And too lazy to work the microwave?”
He grinned sheepishly, placing the bowl of leftover spaghetti on the counter and walking over. He pressed a warm hand against my forehead, then neck. “No fever.”
“Nope. I think it’s gone.”
“Cough?”
“Just a little.”
He looked relieved. “I was worried about you.”
“I’m okay now.”
“Do you want to talk about why you were working yourself so hard.”
“No.”
“Sure?”
I grabbed a bottle of Gatorade out of the fridge. There were three. Along with a huge container of soup, more crackers, pain meds, and anything else I needed. The doctor’s number was taped to the fridge. These boys…the Allendale Four, never count them out when something needs to be done or someone needs taking care of. I owed Oliver more than what I was giving him.
“I don’t know what happened to me. I just…I was freaking out about Amber and the baby. Me having a baby. What you guys wanted. What I wanted. It didn’t help that I was hormonal and weird at the same time and like, really horny.” He smiled at that. “So, I just made myself busy, working and running and well, spending time with you guys, because it seemed like it was making me feel better when it was really just making me into a mess.”
“You’re not a mess, Heaven. Your immune system just was low from the bronchitis and you relapsed.”
“I feel like a mess. Like I’m all twisted up and confused about everything.”
He walked over and gathered me in his arms. “It’s okay to not be sure about things. We’re young and we have time and it may just mean that we need to take our time on a few decisions.”
“You mean like having kids.”
He kissed my forehead. “Exactly like that.”
“But what if…what if you stay with me and you want kids and I don’t change my mind?”
“Then we’ll deal with it.”
“What about the others? They’ve already said they’re okay with it.”
“Then trust them. Accept their word. And stop stressing out about it so much. You’re making yourself crazy for no reason, do you know that?”
I laid my cheek on his chest and felt the warm weight of his hands on my back. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“That’s the truth.” He squeezed me tight. “We love you, Heaven. Just exist in the now and stop stressing out about the future. Who knows what it will hold.”
Oliver always had a way of calming me down, making me see things differently. He’d talked me off the ledge a million times and I should have just gone to him first. I didn’t know why I tortured myself like this.
“Change is going to happen, you know that, right? One day I’m going to get gray hair and you’re going to get wrinkles—”