Fall From Grace

I try to push him away but he takes care of my bra, unclasping it and pulling it off before reaching for his T-shirt. He helps me pull it on and I try not to inhale it. It may be clean, the smell of laundry detergent not enough to mask Carson’s delicious smell of vetiver, amber, and patchouli. “No. I used to get terrible migraines years ago but they went away. I just get them when I’m sick now. It’s probably why I have a fever.”

“And looked like you were going to puke?”

I nod.

“Let me grab those meds. And then I’ll make you something to eat.”

I shake my head. “You don’t have to. I’m not hungry.”

He brushes my hair behind my ear. “My mom always taught me soup fixes everything.”

I see the need in his eyes to take care of me. So I just nod.

He walks back into the bathroom and comes out with a prescription bottle. He hands me a pill, then a bottle of water he must have brought in for me earlier.

“Lie down and I’ll be back in a few with some soup.”

I just nod, then watch him as he grabs a pair of lounge pants off the bench at the end of the bed. He has a perfect body and despite the fact I feel like shit I can’t help but admire it as he strips his towel off and pulls on a pair of sweats.

I settle into his pillows, the cool sheets bringing me comfort as he walks out of the bedroom.

I wake up the next morning wrapped up in sheets, a cold bowl of soup next to the bed, and a note that tells me to sleep as long as I need. So I roll over and wrap my arms around his pillow and drift back to sleep.