Chapter 10 #2
“Ah-ha! We got meds.” Daddy tucked the packet into his pocket and then ushered me out the back door to my own little cottage. Once inside, he gently led me to the back bedroom.
“Let’s get you in comfy clothes, and then you can plan your funeral on the couch.”
“I thought you said I wasn’t going to die.”
“You’re not, but I know you’re looking forward to it.”
“True story.”
In short order, Daddy had me in lounge pants and a ratty T-shirt from my balloon animal days. He grabbed my pillow and blanket before ushering me back to the living room and pointing me to the couch.
“Go lie down, and I’ll put something on for you.”
I was too worn out to argue and didn’t really want to. I’d let Daddy take over and worry about all of it. If I could just exist in the moment, I’d take it. When he looked at me for something to watch, I waved my hand and collapsed back onto the cushions.
“Okay, I’ll pick. Nature documentary, it is.” The soothing tones of a generic British accent filled the room. The show focused on the savannas of Africa. Ha! No wonder Hank stopped there.
While I quietly plotted potential methods to scoop out my eyeballs, Daddy went to the kitchen and fetched some water for me to use to swallow down the medicine he’d found inside the main house.
When he gently raised my head off the pillow, I about lost it.
How could this man be so sweet and still manage to ghost me for days on end?
And that was my last coherent thought before I slipped into blessed oblivion.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Daddy called from where he sat at the dining room table. He had a computer and a bunch of files laid out in front of him, and a pair of glasses that were a new addition. They gave him a sexy teacher vibe.
“Not sure I’m alive,” I croaked. The medicine gave me some relief from the sinus pressure, but it left my head feeling fuzzy, and it didn’t do much for my raw throat. Holy god, I had never had allergies this bad.
“If you’re not, then you’re the cutest ghost I’ve ever seen.”
I actively sat on my hands to avoid giving this man the finger.
He was not allowed to flirt with me after ghosting me for most of the week—except…
I was so glad he was here and had made at least some of my problems disappear.
And dammit, I hated to even admit it to myself, but I had missed him.
His grumpiness that was mostly out of habit, the sweetness, the low-key flirting—when it was removed, I missed it.
And I wanted it back, but I only if he wanted to give it to me, and oh my god, this was making my head hurt worse.
“Here, take something for your headache,” Daddy said after he crossed the room with some pills in his hand. “I’m sorry I can’t give you any more allergy medicine yet. Here’s your cup with some apple juice.”
“S’okay.” I obediently swallowed down the pills he offered and finished the rest of the juice to give my throat some relief.
“You want some more?”
I shook my head no, set my sippy cup on the table, and collapsed back on the pillow.
Wedged next to me on the couch was my ancient stuffed puppy.
I’d had it since before I could even remember anything, and when all else failed, clutching him to my chest always made me feel better.
Today was no exception. Daddy sat on the edge of the couch and brushed my hair off my forehead.
When he leaned down and kissed my forehead, I swear it felt like a brand.
“Do you think you could eat something?”
“Daddy, my throat hurts.”
“I know, but this will help clear your head, and your throat will feel better when all that gunk is gone. Can you try to eat just a little bit?”
I nodded weakly but didn’t make a move to get up from where I lay on my pillow.
“Thank you, sweetheart. Lie back down while I get it ready. You need to go potty?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, then let’s go, and then you can go back to sleep.”
“I do it myself, Daddy.”
“Then I’ll let you do it.”
I pushed myself off the couch and went down the hallway to take care of my business.
When I returned, Daddy was in the kitchen doing whatever it was that he was doing.
While I was gone, he’d put on Goldie & Bear for me.
I settled back down with Baby in my arms and watched him cook in my kitchen for the second time.
I was too miserable to even watch my show.
My eyes were so gritty that it felt like sandpaper dragging across them.
My throat was on fire, which was still somehow better than the sledgehammer pounding in my skull…
or the thumbscrew working over my sinuses.
The only joy left in my life was watching the smoking-hot man in my kitchen.
The light caught his dark hair, and some of the strands were a deep, fiery red.
His tan skin glowed against the white cupboards.
With his T-shirt tight across his chest, my mind wandered back to how damn good he’d made me feel the last time he was in my kitchen.
God knew I didn’t want that today, but I still wanted him to want it.
Every once in a while, Daddy glanced up from his chopping in the kitchen.
Whatever broth was simmering on the stove smelled spicy even from across the room.
If his plan worked and made me feel better, there was nothing I wouldn’t give this man.
If he needed a kidney or his bathroom cleaned, I was his guy.
If he wanted…uhhh…other stuff, I’d be down for that too.
If I could make sex jokes, surely that meant death was no longer hanging over my head.
After an episode, Daddy left the kitchen with an extra-large coffee mug. The steam rolled off it like fog off the ocean. This must have been what he was cooking because the spicy scent wafted off it.
“What’s that?” I eyed it suspiciously as he approached.
“This, my suspicious boy, is a surefire remedy for allergies.” He set the mug down, and I peered into it like I was reading tea leaves. “It’s hot and sour soup, emphasis on the hot.”
I moved close and inhaled the pungent steam.
OH. HOLY. COW.
“Is this safe to eat?”
“Let it cool down a little more before you try, so you don’t burn your tongue. Oh, shoot, I forgot.” Daddy jumped up but returned with a bottle of sweet-and-sour sauce. “Try adding some of this. It takes the edge off but not too much.”
After the steam let up, I took my first tentative sip.
Whoa. The broth hit my tongue like a… I don’t know what.
But it was strong, with a combination of bean sprouts, green onions, egg strings…
ribbons…something like that, fresh sliced mushrooms, and what I suspected was leftover steak from last night’s dinner.
When the horseradish and sriracha hit the back of my throat, it was like the skies parted and the fog covering my brain was washed away.
I downed that soup like I hadn’t eaten in a week, and I didn’t care that my eyes watered or my nose dripped.
Daddy didn’t say a single word. He handed me a paper towel so I could mop up whatever grossness was happening.
After I finished one serving, and then another, my head was miraculously clear. I could kiss this man, but I wasn’t entirely sure if he still wanted my kisses. And that was a bummer.