“Brad? It’s me.”
He didn’t know who “me” was, nor could he open his eyes to check. Someone had glued them shut and sealed his lips for good measure. He grunted some combination of words, intent on making “me” go away.
A soft, damp cloth brushed his cheek and he relaxed into the sheets. Nice. If they could spray the rest of him down with about six gallons of ice-cold water, maybe he wouldn’t roast to death in his own bed.
Sleep closed around him, a familiar old friend. One he could count on. One who wouldn’t stiletto his heart into chunks and eat them for breakfast.
His roaring stomach woke him up. He groaned and tried to rise, but gentle hands on his bare chest pushed him back down. “Not yet. You need more rest.”
He knew that voice. “You—you did this. Your fault.”
“I’m sorry. I warned you that you’d get sick.”
“No. You didn’t warn me enough.” He rolled onto his back and opened one eye long enough to glimpse Sara sitting in a folding chair beside his bed, a small booklight attached to the novel in her lap. Reading glasses hovered on the tip of her nose. God, she was so cute, and he wanted her so much. More than he’d ever wanted anything.
“I know you probably don’t care what I’m saying right now, but I’m going to tell Kim about us,” she murmured. “I was going to tell her tonight, but you were a mess when you came home, and I wanted to run it by you first. So I guess I’ll wait until you’re not sick anymore, which means you need to get better fast.”
If she kept talking, he didn’t hear it. “You didn’t stop me.”
She brushed her hand tenderly over the one he’d fisted in the sheets. So soft. Why wouldn’t she get in bed with him? “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you, baby. I went to get you juice and tissues, and there’s—”
“You didn’t stop me,” he insisted through thick and clumsy lips. “You let me fall for you.” He felt rather than saw her reel back. “Why you do that?” he asked, finally managing to open both eyes for a moment.
Her shocked expression in the narrow beam of light from the booklight trailed him into an exhausted sleep.
When he woke again, she was gone and Kim sat in her place, her wrapped ankle propped on the side of his bed. “Easy, tiger,” she admonished as he threw himself onto his side. “Hurt my ankle again, and I’ll give you more to worry about than a stupid cold.”
“Go ‘way.”
“Nope,” she said cheerfully. “I want information. I figure now’s the best time to get it, when you’re passed out and loopy on the cold meds Sara sprinkled in your juice since you’re a giant baby who can’t swallow pills.”
He didn’t remember juice. Had he drunk something? He did feel a little better. On a scale of one to ten, he’d made it to one. Improvement, since he’d been at a solid minus fifteen all day.
“Go ‘way,” he tried again.
“Sorry, not leaving ‘til you tell me what I want to know. I gotta make it quick, since Florence Nightingale ran to the store to get you some kind of chest rub. Which brings me to my first question.” She paused for dramatic effect that was mostly lost on him, due to the ever-present threat of unconsciousness. “What else has my best friend rubbed on you?”
“Huh?”
“Sara. You do remember her, right? She’s small and curvy and wicked smart. You’ve both been acting bizarre this week, which I couldn’t figure out until I saw her creeping out of your room naked this morning. Or yesterday morning now, since it’s Saturday. Then there was that stupid doll in her bed, a move that had your paw prints all over it. You learned that trick from me, though you totally forgot to stick pillows beneath the covers the length of her body. Plus you’re sick, and I’m not. So that makes me think you’ve been swapping spit.”
He grunted. Way too many words. What did they all mean?
“I know you’re sleeping together, I just want you to admit it. No details, mind you. I so don’t need those. But if this place is going to get really sickening now that you two are all lovebuzzy, maybe I should start staying at Greg’s.”
“Greg?” He pressed his face farther into his pillow and smiled dizzily. Sara. He could still smell her vanilla scent on his sheets. “Who’s Greg?”
“Look, snuffles, all I need is a yes or no. And please say yes, because I found something in your bathroom a little while ago that freaked me out and if it’s not Sara’s, well, I don’t want to know. But I may start sleeping in the basement. It was big and blue and fucking ginormous. Dude, does she really use that thing?”
He rolled over and pulled the pillow over his head. “King Kong.” He tried to smile and coughed instead. “Sara likes them big. Now go ‘way.”
Kim barked out a laugh and he winced, dragging his pillow over his ears. Make it stop. “Feel better, bro. Tell your nurse to give you a sponge bath, ‘kay?”
He was snoring before the door closed.
For more than two straight days, he slept. Sara had never heard anyone sleep that loudly. She figured it was probably a good thing she’d fallen for him before she’d learned he sawed them off, since it was kind of a mood killer.
Early on Labor Day, so early that the first hints of sunlight had begun to creep into Brad’s room, she crawled close to his back. She slid her arm around his waist, fully expecting him to shake her off as he had every other time she’d tried that move. She’d gotten in bed with him Saturday night once Kim had gone to sleep, and again last night when she’d left for Greg’s, and he’d been restless the whole time. The guy hadn’t stopped thrashing, even while unconscious. His fever had finally broken in the middl