His eyes narrow into a playful glare and then he sighs. “I know. It’s more that I don’t want to burden others.”
“Taking care of people you care about isn’t a burden. People like doing it and it makes you feel good.”
“Does it make you feel good?”
My mouth goes dry and I forget how to breathe for a second. If his hand was still surrounding mine, there’d be no way to deny just how good this is making me feel.
“Yes,” I whisper. “It does. Because I care about you.” I swallow hard and inch closer to the bed. The moment is becoming too intense, and suddenly I’m hot and sweat breaks out along my hairline.
Someone else knocks on the door, and this time I’m thankful for the interruption. Because I’m feeling things I’ve never felt before, and I’m not sure what to do with all these fucking feelings. Moving back to the chair, I pull out my phone and text Corbin, asking for an update on Dad.
The nurse leaves, telling Wes to try and rest and she’ll be back in half an hour to check on him.
“You don’t have to stay,” Wes says, looking tired.
“I’ll probably wander around and see if I can find something to eat.” He’ll be more likely to fall asleep if I’m not in here. “Are you allowed to eat?”
“No one told me no.”
“I’ll bring you something.” Standing, I fight back the urge to go to him, brush his hair back, and kiss his forehead.
“Hey,” Wes says, catching my hand as I walk by. His fingers walk up my wrist and a shiver runs down my spine. I inhale sharply, knees weakening. How can he affect me so much with just his fingers on my wrist?
“Yeah?”
“Thank you, Scarlet, for everything.”
I put my free hand on top of his hand and close my eyes in a long blink. “Of course, Wes.” I look into his eyes. “Get some rest so you get better. We still have Netflix to binge.”
His lips curve into a small smile. “That’s good motivation.”* * *
I take a drink of ice water, debating pouring it over my head while I sit in the middle of the hospital cafeteria. After practically running out of the room, I hid in an elevator with my back against the wall until my heart stopped pounding.
I don’t know what is happening to me…even though I really do.
But I won’t say it. I don’t believe in love. My heart isn’t capable of it.
My phone buzzes in my purse, pulling me out of the reverie I was in. It’s Quinn, and I’m sure she’s calling to check on Wes.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Scarlet. Are you with Wes?”
“Not currently. I went to the cafeteria to get some food.”
“Oh, okay. How’s he doing?”
“He’s looking better.”
“Thanks for taking him. Wes doesn’t go to the doctor willingly.”
I lean back and smile. “I noticed. Did you happen to call your mom and tell her Wes is sick?”
Quinn laughs. “I know better.”
“Wes said she freaks out a little.”
“That’s an understatement.” Emma starts crying in the background. “I gotta go, but thanks for looking out for my brother. Can you text me an update later?”
“Yeah, I will. Give Emma a hug for me.”
“I will. Bye!”
I hang up and finish my food, then grab a drink and a snack to take up to Wes. He’s asleep, so I quietly slip in and try to get comfortable in the chair next to the bed. The nurse comes in a few minutes later, looks him over but doesn’t wake him, and then all is quiet again. I read a book on my phone and end up drifting off, not waking until the doctor comes back in to look Wes over.
His fever went down to a manageable level, and Wes can go home.
“You’re still sick,” the doctor tells him. “Rest the remainder of today and take it easy tomorrow.”
“I will,” Wes agrees, eager to get out of here. The doctor leaves and a few minutes later a nurse comes in with discharge paperwork.
“Is your girlfriend driving you home?” the nurse asks, going over the standard questions.
I look at Wes, who hesitates but doesn’t take the time to correct her. Maybe it’s because he’s too tired to bother, or maybe because he’s pretending we’re together too, like I am.
I grab Wes’s coat, taking it to him once the nurse leaves.
“Thanks again,” he tells me.
“You’re welcome. You look better already.”
I text Quinn as we’re walking out, letting her know Wes is on the mend and is heading home. Logan is at the house along with Owen. They’re both wearing jeans and gray T-shirts, making it hard to tell them apart.
Jackson has his play doctor kit out on the coffee table and immediately leads Weston to the couch for a check-up.
“Did you mean to dress alike?” I ask the twins, going right to the bathroom to wash the hospital germs off my hands.