30. Daisy
CHAPTER 30
daisy
“Thank you,” Landry says as I tuck him into bed.
“No problem,” I mumble somewhat bitterly while I set a glass of water and his next dose of medicine on the side table.
He tries to clear his throat and winces before he reaches out to grab my arm. “I mean it. No one has ever …” He shakes his head before he continues. “I can’t remember the last time anyone’s taken such good care of me.”
But I catch what he didn’t mean to say. “Your parents never tended to you when you were sick?” I ask, furrowing my brow.
He shrugs, his hand still wrapped around my forearm. “Not this well, no.”
My insides feel heavy. “How did that work, then?”
“After Lilley left home, I did most of that stuff for Loren and myself, I guess.”
“Oh,” I say softly. “Well, I’m sorry.”
“It is what it is,” he replies. “But I’m grateful for your help, especially since I’m probably not your favorite person at the moment.”
I press my lips together before I answer. “Is this supposed to be your attempt at another apology for last night?”
He smiles ruefully, and his thumb softly strokes my arm. “Maybe.”
“The sympathy card was a dirty move,” I pull away and cross both arms over my chest.
“To be fair, I only planned on playing the current-sickness card. I was forced to put down the shitty-childhood card when you called my hand.”
“Mm-hmm.” I glare at him skeptically. “That all you got?”
He pats the bed beside him, and I reluctantly sit at the edge. “I think I understand what I said to hurt you last night.”
“You do?” My heart immediately begins beating faster, making my head pound.
“Is it because I made it sound like I could never want a physical relationship with you?”
My eyes grow wide. “Maybe.”
“Look, Daisy, I know this probably isn’t what you want to hear, but …” He pauses and exhales before he goes on. “It’s not like I don’t think of you as attractive or sexy because you aren’t those things … I just can’t allow myself to think about you in that way at all, you know?”
“Right,” I say, forcing a smile even though it feels like he’s getting ready to push that knife back into place. “Because I’m Rowan’s baby sister.”
“Yes. And because I can’t trust myself around you,” he blurts out, his expression pained. And my breath hitches in my throat.
“Why wouldn’t you be able to trust yourself around me?” I venture after a second, my heart racing now.
He licks his lips. “Because I don’t have a lot of will power, especially once I get fixated on some impulsive idea. And besides that, you and I don’t even want the same things. I can’t allow anything to happen between us because any way you spin it, I’d be taking advantage of you.”
I’m sure he’s right. The responsible part of my brain agrees wholeheartedly.
But every other part of me just wants to pull back the sheets and slide into bed next to him, then cling to him long enough to make him believe he’s worth my love and attention.
“Landry,” I begin, my voice thick, “it’s not just that.”
“It’s not?”
“I mean, yes, it does hurt my pride to hear you can’t even be enticed to see me as more than your friend, particularly when you throw in the fact that you were my brother’s friend first. And you know how much I hate being treated like a child and being told what’s best for me.” He frowns, but I go on. “But what upsets me the most is the way you refuse to see yourself as more than my friend. You like to make excuses for me because you don’t think I could be attracted to you as you are. It’s gotta be my lack of options, right? Or you think my only motivation for wanting a physical relationship with you is to settle a debt. I mean, a man like you, one who’s selfless and caring and loyal, he couldn’t possibly be good enough for a girl like me—an overly sheltered virgin with a health problem. She must think she owes him something. No way anyone could stand him long enough to marry him and have his kids, even if she were as desperate as I am, right?”
He swallows and closes his eyes to wince. “I’m sorry, Daisy,” he whispers. “That’s not what I think of you at all. I’m just trying to protect you.”
I sniffle and wipe my nose on my sleeve, noticing a burning in the back of my throat for the first time. “But who’s taking care of you?”
He opens his eyes and studies me carefully, then he reaches up to brush his hand over my forehead. “Oh, shit. You’re hot.”
“What?” I blink.
He sighs and shakes his head. “You’re burning up. Does your head hurt yet?”
“I’m fine. If anything, I’m … cold.”
He glares at me expectantly. “You have fever chills. That’s not just the afterglow from getting to stab a needle in my bare ass.”
An unexpected laugh bubbles out of me. “Well, we both know it doesn’t take much to excite me.”
He presses his lips together, looking more concerned than entertained. “Open up and say ah .”
I pout for a second before I stick out my tongue, and he grunts.
“Come on,” he says, scooting over and inviting me into the bed alongside him. I follow his lead tentatively, but he gets up as soon as I move to lie down.
“Where are you going?”
“To get your injection ready,” he replies matter-of-factly.
“Injection?” I sit up quickly.
“Good thing we brought the rest of that vial of penicillin home. You’re not allergic, are you?”
“No.” I bite my lip, watching him as he walks across the room and confidently draws the medicine into a fresh syringe like the hot doctor he is.
Stupid, sexy, capable Dr. McDreamy.
He returns a second later, flicking the side of the syringe. “Ready?”
“Sure,” I say with a shrug before moving to stand at the edge of the bed. Then I bend at the waist and begin gathering my skirt in my hands.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Landry exclaims.
“What? I thought you were giving me a shot?” I turn my head to him.
“In the arm,” he wheezes, his eyes huge and round. He gulps and cringes again, but he doesn’t look away. “Can you please, please, put your dress down?”
“Whatever you want, doctor.” I oblige and turn around to sit on the bed this time. “As long as you tell me why we have different injection sites.”
“Impetigo, rheumatic fever, post-streptococcal glomerulonephritis …” he mumbles and squeezes his eyes shut.
“What?”
“Just reviewing the types of streptococcal infections, you know, so I don’t miss any symptoms,” he says quickly without looking directly at me, then he turns to grab an alcohol wipe.
“Landry?”
“Your sleeve, Daisy.”
I slide the cap sleeve of my dress down my arm as slowly and deliberately as possible, and his gaze follows my movements. Then I angle my body to offer him my bare shoulder while I tilt my head down and look up at him from beneath my lashes. “Like this?”
“Yeah, that’s … perfect.” The way his half-lidded eyes run over me reawakens the butterflies in my stomach after their last foray when Landry and I played doctor at the clinic. Then again, that could also be the fever chills.
“I’m ready when you are,” I say quietly, trying to hide the way my teeth are chattering.
He nods, but it takes him a second to move again. I flinch when he rubs the cold alcohol pad against my skin.
“So, are you going to tell me why you’re afraid to put it in my butt or not?” I pose.
He turns his head to cough. “I’m not afraid. It’s just not necessary this time,” he says before he reaches in to pinch the back of my arm. “Females tend to have more fat around their upper arms than men do.”
“And your arm muscles are too big for a shot?”
“Exactly. Okay, three, two …” He pokes the needle through my skin, and I do my best to stay still. Once he’s done with the syringe, his touch grows more tender as he smooths a Band-Aid over my arm and gingerly slides my sleeve up into place. “Hopefully you won’t get much worse since we caught it early.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
“Thank me by taking some of that ibuprofen and getting yourself to bed.”
I pout when I stand, ignoring the way my head throbs. “I can’t believe you’re kicking me out. We’ve already shared cooties, and I figured you’d want to keep an eye on me.”
He laughs shortly. “You really want to snuggle up in these musty sheets?”
“Fair enough,” I say, my throat starting to burn again. “My bed definitely smells better. And it’s bigger.”
He narrows his eyes at me before he grabs the medicine off the side table, then he ushers me forward. We turn the corner to my room, and he sets everything down beside my bed before he hands me a couple of pills and a glass of water. I swallow them obediently, and he pulls the sheets back, tilting his head in a gesture. At least he’s tucking me in.
But as soon as I slip beneath the covers, he surprises me by sliding in beside me. He grabs a spare pillow and plants it firmly in the space between us. “Only because I need to keep an eye on you all night. You’re more likely to have a seizure if your temperature spikes.”
“Right, Doc,” I confirm, stifling my smile. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”
He exhales loudly before he reaches up to flick the switch on the lamp beside my bed. “Good night, Daisy. Wake me up if you start feeling funny, especially if you get really hot.”
“Hmm, ditto.”
He chuckles. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Says the man who sacrificed his left butt cheek for the sake of my pride today,” I mutter before I settle in next to our border pillow.
“If you knew why I was doing it, then why’d you stab me so hard?” he asks through a yawn and a subsequent whimper.
“Thought you might be into that kinda thing.”
He groans. “That better be the fever talking.”
“If I agree, will you kiss me and make it better?”
“Stop flirting and go to sleep.”
“Fine.” He can’t stop me from grinning at him in the dark though. “Happy Thanksgiving, Landry.”
“Happy Thanksgiving.”
We’re both quiet after that, and although I don’t remember drifting off to sleep, I wake a few hours later to find myself snuggled up to Landry’s chest, that extra pillow lying on the ground beside him.