Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jess
I woke with a start to a darkened room and the crackle of a fire. Behind me, the glow of light gave me enough so I could see the hulking form of Beast resting in the chair perpendicular to the end of the couch where I lay.
Laser beam eyes glinted next to his head. His cat was curled up on one massive shoulder, half on the chair, half on him. Adorable.
Wait. What?
Ow.
Everything hurt. My head. My body ached like I’d run a marathon—maybe worse than after the times I’d actually run marathons. And I was sweat-soaked, my shirt clinging to me, my hair damp behind my neck.
I hadn’t felt this bad in recent memory.
“You should eat something. Then take more meds.” Beast was up, leaning down to take my temperature. He showed the little screen flashing one hundred and one. “That’s good. It came down a bit.”
I sifted through the events—I’d arrived, we’d fought, I couldn’t get out what I’d come for or what I meant to say to apologize, and then I’d… passed out. It was murky from there, but he’d made me sleep on the couch.
In a million years, I wouldn’t have imagined this scenario. First, I hadn’t been sick past a basic seasonal cold in a long time. Second… here? Really? Why did I have to end up here and literally pass out?
The wave of humiliation I expected didn’t crash, though. Maybe because, at least from what I could recall, he had been surprisingly… calm. Insistent, yes. Bossy as all get out, of course. But kind of steadying, oddly.
“Okay. Yeah. Good idea. Then I’ll leave.”
He didn’t say anything, which wasn’t a shock, so I gingerly sat up. Good grief, a small elfin community was hammering for diamonds in my brain.
The cat brushed against my legs, then placed a paw on my knee and leaned up, extending his furry neck and sniffing. I leaned down, letting him do what he needed to before petting him.
“Bones, give her some space.”
His gruff words made me look over right as he arrived with a plate and another mason jar, this time filled with an orange drink.
“You named your sweet fluffy cuteness machine Bones ?”
His eyes narrowed and, in another life or state of consciousness, I might’ve thought he was concealing a smile.
“He becomes a little bag of bones when you pick him up.” He settled next to me on the couch. “Eat. ”
On the plate was a piece of toast with what looked like butter and jam. My stomach pitched. “I don’t think I can.”
The corners of his mouth pulled down. “Then drink. It’s just orange juice.”
I couldn’t think of something I wanted less except… everything… and I knew getting something in my stomach would be good. I took a sip, then another. After a few minutes of this, him patiently but unswervingly watching, he held up the plate again.
I shook my head. “I can’t.”
“You can.”
“I really can’t. I’ll puke.”
His expression didn’t change. “Then you’ll puke. But you can’t keep taking medicine on an empty stomach, and you need more.”
A thought wormed its way in. “Wait, what time is it?”
“Around four.”
I bolted upright. “In the morning? No. No… I was just going to take a little nap.”
He did the squinty thing again. “You slept for almost ten hours. I figured you needed the sleep, and I kept tabs on your temp. But it’s past time to get some more meds in you, so eat up.”
Without my permission, my eyes flooded and I blinked back tears. “I am so so sorry. This is?—”
“Jess.”
The vehemence in his voice startled me.
“Stop apologizing.”
My lips firmed and I swallowed hard.
“You can’t help that you’re sick.” He held up the plate and gave me a glare that clearly expected me to take another bite.
I took a tiny one, praying my stomach wouldn’t turn. When it didn’t, I ate a bit more, and took the medicine he’d put in a little plastic cup.
“As soon as it gets light, I’ll go.” I coughed into my elbow, trying to minimize the spread of whatever this was. He’d hate me even more if I got him sick, too.
The hard look he gave me said he didn’t agree with my plan.
“Seriously, I’ll get out of your hair.”
He did his usual glare thing, but somehow, it didn’t come off as arrogant or infuriating. This time, I couldn’t read the emotion behind his gritted teeth and slow inhale.
“What?” I finally asked when he didn’t say anything.
“You are not leaving here while you’re febrile and hacking and ill.”
I was sick enough I didn’t feel the usual magma-level rage erupt at his tone, but I wasn’t dead, so… “No. That’s exactly why I need to get home and leave you in peace.”
I dropped my head to stare at the plate of toast balanced in my lap, begging myself to finish the slice so I’d have a little more in my system to make the drive.
Thick, cool fingers urged my chin up, up, and over toward him before releasing me when our eyes met.
“You are not leaving here. There’s a foot of snow from the freak storm and you can’t drive in this condition. You’ll stay here until you’re better.”
I studied his stern face in the shadows. After a moment, he took the plate and set it on the coffee table, then stood and held out a hand.
“What?”
“You’re coming to the bed. You can’t keep sleeping on a leather couch with a fever.”
Then, as though in a dream, I watched myself place a hand in his and rise on shaking legs, felt his arm loop around my waist and support me down the hallway, then lower me to the bed in a quaint, clean room.
“Get some more sleep. I’ll be in to check on you again in a few hours.”
Then he flipped off the light, pulled the door nearly shut, and I was alone.
And since none of this made sense—none of it could be parsed out or solved, and stretching out on the bed felt so good, I lay down and slept.