Chapter 16
When Strength Wanes
? Girl - Maren Morris
Jaxon
“Dinner will be ready in five,” Mama says. “Has anybody heard from Callie?”
My eyebrows draw together as a wave of concern grips me. “Not since last night.”
I’ve been away all day, filing paperwork and dealing with contractors for the sanctuary. I texted Callie to see if she needed anything from town, but when she didn’t respond, I assumed she was avoiding me after the run-in in the hallway.
“Silent treatment already?” Griffin chides.
“Fuck you.”
Before Emmy utters a word, I pull a dollar out of my pocket and slide it across the island.
“Why don’t you go check on her?” Mama says. “She said she'd be here at six. It's not like her to be late.”
The screen door slams behind me as I jog down the front steps to my truck. Her shitty hatchback is still in the same place it’s been since she arrived, waiting to be repaired. The porch light is on, but the rest of the house is dark.
With the curtains drawn and the lights off, I can only make out vague shapes in the darkness. I flip on the light in the main hallway to guide my way. Atticus circles my feet, begging for attention. I pick him up, and he nuzzles against my stubble.
“Where’s your mama, buddy?”
His response comes in the form of a quiet mewl and a vibrating chest, like someone just turned the dial all the way up on a neck massager.
“You’re no help.”
“Callie,” I call into the quiet house. “I know you’re doing that adorable thing where you avoid me and pretend I don’t exist. Luckily, I’m super damaged, so I’m really into it.”
I set Atticus back on his feet and follow a path into the living room. That’s where I find her, curled up in the corner of the sofa with a blanket pulled up to her chin. I flick on the small table lamp to get a better look, and my stomach plummets.
Callie’s forehead is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and she’s shivering uncontrollably.
I take a seat at the end of the sofa next to her feet and place my hand on her knee. “Callie? Can you hear me?”
She’s ghostly pale and unresponsive.
“Callie baby. Open your eyes for me.”
I press the back of my palm to her forehead, unsurprised to find that she’s burning up.
She swats me away weakly. “I'm fine,” she slurs.
“Goddammit, Callie,” I mutter the words more to myself than her. “Why the fuck didn’t you call anybody?”
I pull out my phone and dial Mama’s number.
She picks up on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Callie’s burning up. What should I do?”
“How bad is it? Can you take her temperature?”
“I don’t know. She’s really out of it.”
“Get a wet washcloth. You’ll want to use it on the back of her neck and forehead. I’ll have your father bring you the medical kit.”
“Ok. Thanks.”
“Of course. Call if you need anything.”
I pad into the kitchen, silently cursing myself for not having anything on hand to take care of her. I should at least have a goddamn thermometer in this house.
When I return to the living room, armed with the wet washcloth, and Callie’s still in the same position. I gently place it against her forehead and cheeks, dabbing along her hairline.
Her head lolls to the side, and she groans.
“I’m sorry. I have to get you cooled down.”
Her eyes slowly blink open. “Jax?”
“Hey. How are you feeling?”
“Like somebody set my body on fire,” she says, her voice low and hoarse. “Did I swallow glass?”
I give her a small smile. At least she’s still able to crack a joke. “Don't think so. Can you roll over for me?”
A pained groan slips free as she shifts onto her side.
“Maybe I should take you to a doctor,” I say.
“No. No doctor. I’ll be fine.”
There’s that word again. Fine. Everything is fucking fine, even when I know damn well it’s not.
“Did you take anything?”
She murmurs a quiet dissent.
I press the cloth to the back of her neck and hold it there, stroking my thumb along her soft skin, unable to resist the pull. I’m so close, all I’d have to do is lean in slightly and kiss her, but now isn’t the time for that.
“Why didn't you tell anyone you were sick?” I whisper.
“Didn't want to bother you.” Her eyes fall closed again, long lashes fanning out against her flushed cheeks. Even like this, she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve seen.
“I can take care of myself,” she says groggily. “I always have.”
My anger flares at the thought of someone mistreating her. I want to throttle whoever made her believe she can’t rely on anyone. Kindness and caring are the bare minimum. I want to give her so much more than that—the whole goddamn world if she asked it of me.
Pops arrives a short while later with a first aid kit and a canvas tote full of groceries. “How's she doing?”
“Asleep. I need to get this fever under control.”
“Here. This should help.” He holds out a bottle of medicine. “I’ll get some water.” Pops disappears into the kitchen while I attempt to rouse her again.
I sweep away some of the hair that’s sticking to her forehead. “Callie. I need you to take these.”
With her eyes closed, she parts her lips, and I slip two small tablets into her mouth. Pops hands me the water, and I help her drink the medicine. She murmurs a muffled thank you and curls in on herself with her hands balled under her chin.
I tug the light blanket up to her shoulders and stand.
“There’s a container of leftovers in the kitchen since you missed dinner. Let her sleep, but when she wakes, see if you can get her to eat something. Mama sent some of her chicken noodle soup. It’s already thawing.”
“Thanks, Pops.”
“Take care of your girl, Jax.” He clamps a large hand on my shoulder. “Holler if you need anything.”
I know she’s not my girl, but I don't bother correcting him. “Will do.”
With a final nod, he’s up and out the door. I settle at the opposite end of the sofa. Propping her feet on my lap, I watch the slow rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps.
My stomach protests the hunger, but I can't bring myself to leave her. I’ll eat when she does. I lean my head back against the cushion and close my eyes, letting sleep take me, too.
Callie
I wake to a quiet house with a soft blanket draped over my body and something solid resting under my feet. I glance up to find Jaxon there, fast asleep with his head thrown back and his hair falling over his forehead in wild curls.
Even asleep, he’s gorgeous.
I vaguely remember him waking me up, but everything after that is fuzzy. God, I hope I didn’t say anything stupid.
Carefully extricating my feet from under Jaxon’s arm, I shift until I’m sitting up with my back against the armrest. Jaxon stirs, rubbing at his eyes.
“Morning. How are you feeling?” If I wasn't already somewhat lightheaded, Jaxon’s smile would’ve done it for me.
“A bit better. Have you been there all night?”
He nods. “You were pretty out of it.”
This man. He spent the whole night watching over me. My body is stiff from having slept on the couch; I can only imagine how Jaxon feels.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
He ignores my protest. “Think you can stomach some food? Mama sent over chicken noodle soup.”
“That sounds amazing.”
I start to stand, but he stops me. “I'll get it. You stay here.”
“I might be sick, but my feet still work.”
He groans. “You're gonna be the death of me.”
“What's your favorite flower? I'll be sure to bring some to the funeral.”
“I know you're joking, but nobody’s ever given me flowers before.” He tugs at the back of his neck and gives me an adorable smile. “I’ve always liked those white ones with the black in the middle.”
“Anemones. I'm impressed you didn't pick something cliché like roses or sunflowers.”
“I’m full of surprises.” Before he leaves, he winks, setting off a cascade of butterflies in my chest.
I wrap the blanket tighter around myself and glance at the corner of the room where Atticus is perched on his cat tower near the window. He licks his paws and rubs them over his forehead.
I click my tongue and beckon him to me.
He gives me an unimpressed look, resuming his bath.
“I see how it is. Just remember who feeds you.”
He responds with an apathetic yawn. Jaxon feeds him about as often as I do, so it’s not much of a threat.
Footsteps draw my attention back to Jaxon as he sets the food on a folding tray at the edge of the sofa. He sits beside me, close enough to touch if I wanted to. I resist the urge and avert my gaze.
My hand trembles as I reach for the spoon.
“When's the last time you had something to eat?”
I shrug. “I ate sometime yesterday… I think.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “Let me help you.”
Steam billows out of the bowl as he scoops up some of the soup. I watch with rapt attention as he brings his lips near the hot liquid and blows on it. I never noticed how full his lips are, and I definitely shouldn’t be noticing now.
When he catches me staring, he gives me that devastating smirk. My stomach somersaults, though I can't tell if Jaxon or the flu is to blame.
He cups his hand under the spoon and brings it to my lips. I open for him. The flavor is nothing like the salty store-bought packets my parents used to feed us. Evie’s soup is hearty and comforting. A warmth spreads through me as Jaxon feeds me another bite.
The liquid drips onto my chin, and without an ounce of hesitation, Jaxon swipes it away with his thumb.
Time slows to a crawl as his hand lingers on my skin, sliding across my jaw.
The air around us grows thick and charged.
I’m acutely aware of every subtle movement, and I can’t bring myself to pull away.
Nobody has ever taken care of me like this. The thought instantly sobers me.
“Thanks,” I murmur breathlessly. “I think I can take it from here.”
His intense gaze locks on mine. “Let me take care of you.”
I look away. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I'll get used to it.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Yes.”
Someday I'll have to go back to my real life, and if I let myself get too caught up in Jaxon, I'll be leaving my heart behind. I can’t miss him if I never let him in.