Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THANE
“Sweetheart?” I hold the thermometer to Lottie’s head again. I’ve done it every thirty minutes for the last two hours, and her fever is still far too high, at least according to Medical Web MD.
She groans and rolls over. She’s been out for fifteen hours now, except when I’ve forced her to sit up to drink and take her medicine. Even then, she’s not fully awake.
Her room is nothing like mine back in New York. The walls here are a very pale gray, so light in color that you only see hints of purple in the shadows, but somehow it makes everything softer. I’d always preferred clean white with straight lines and minimal everything.
Yet Lottie has knickknacks and trinkets on every available surface. It’s not messy, per se, more like ordered chaos.
She has seven perfume bottles lined up by height next to a mini figurine of a headless woman whose hands, neck, and arms are used to display jewelry. I placed her clip-on earrings in the open palm of one of them, but they look like costume jewelry, and I know I’ll be replacing them with precious stones before long. Beside that is a framed photograph of her with her brother and another of her with Rowan.
Even the memory of Rowan’s laugh is shrill in my ears.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I resign myself to what will happen next and pray that I can behave like an adult and not a prepubescent asshole when I turn back to Charlotte.
“Charlotte, I’m going to put a clean T-shirt on you, but I’m not going to look. Okay?”
Her lips tilt lazily, but she doesn’t open her eyes. I called Mrs. Perez for help with this, but she didn’t answer, so my choices are to allow Charlotte to sleep in sweaty clothing that makes her shiver more or figure out how to dress dead weight while staring at the ceiling.
Not much of a fucking option.
“You’ll look,” she mumbles.
“There’s only one little liar in this relationship, sweetheart, and it isn’t me. When I undress you for real, you’ll not only be conscious, you’ll be begging me to do it.”
What the hell am I doing?
When she doesn’t reply, I place my hands on the hem of her T-shirt, then reconsider.
I take off my dress shirt and my undershirt. This will be big enough to go on top of her clothing, then I can remove her shirt while mine covers her.
As soon as I place my T-shirt over her head and tug it down to her thighs, she smiles. Her hands reach for me, become grabby, and clasp hold of my upper thigh, right below my cock.
I’m going to hell.
Then she begins to explore, and I quickly pull away. My sweet little liar has grabby hands. I tuck that away for later, then reach under my T-shirt that she’s wearing and remove her arms from the armholes of her shirt.
By the time I tug the damn thing through the neck hole, I’m sweating more than she has been, but at least she remained covered.
Her leggings and socks come off without incident, and then I tuck her into bed tightly enough that she resembles a mummy. The timer on my phone vibrates for her meds. I have them all laid out on her vanity according to the time she has to take them, and to make sure nothing is missed, I’ve written the schedule in my notebook.
The chart doesn’t flow with the rest of my notes, but for once, it doesn’t matter. Slipping back into my dress shirt, I button it but leave it untucked.
“Brad?”
I bite back a groan, then rush out of Lottie’s room before my sister’s bellows wake her.
“Up here.” I’m not sure how to classify my tone. A strange mix of yell and whisper that still manages to carry down the stairs.
Kara’s footsteps pound on each step as though she weighs more than an elephant. Is it too late to put her in ballet or something? It astounds me that she’s so heavy-footed.
Quieter footfalls sound behind her, and when she reaches the hallway, I’m not shocked to find Rafe. I am surprised to see Boone though. I don’t want him in Charlotte’s house. Not that he isn’t a good guy, but he’s too close to her bedroom for my liking.
“Downstairs. Now. I’ll attend to Charlotte and be down in ten minutes.”
Kara’s brows pinch together, and I bite my lip.
“Please,” I concede.
“Is she okay?” Kara attempts to peek behind me, but I’m sure I latched Lottie’s door.
“She’s got one hell of a flu, and her fever is making her…” My mind decides that’s the moment to remind me of Lottie’s hand drifting dangerously close to my dick, and I clear my throat. “She’s still sleeping, but it’s time for her meds. Wait for me downstairs.”
“Yes, sir, Brad, sir.” Kara salutes me, and Rafe chuckles.
“Ah, I’d make it quick,” Boone says. “There’s an issue we need to discuss with your house.”
I nod with a scowl. He shakes his head, completely unfazed by me, and jogs down the stairs after Rafe. I’m not sure what to make of the guy.
So far, he’s found a lot of problems with my house. Not that I’m surprised, but all I want him to do is fix it. I don’t care about colors or fixtures or crown fucking molding.
Slipping back into Charlotte’s room, I pause at the door. Even sick, with hair matted to her forehead, she’s still the most beautiful woman on the planet. She makes it hard to breathe, hard to swallow. Jesus, she’s probably the only person in the world who can make my brain go dumb.
Grabbing one of the bottles of Gatorade I brought up earlier, I uncap it, slip a straw inside, then grab the mini paper cup that says ten a.m., and carry it to her bedside table.
Her soft mattress dips with my weight.
“Sweetheart, I need to sit you up one more time.” Removing her arms from the blankets, I gently pull until she’s sitting, then slip beside her to hold her upright. “Can you open your eyes?”
She blinks a few times, then stares at me, but I’m not sure she’s actually focused on anything. “Thane?”
“Shh. It’s okay. I need you to take your medicine, and then you can go back to sleep. Can you do that for me?”
She nods and opens her mouth. Just as four hours prior, I drop the pills into her mouth, then guide the straw to her lips. She sucks but she still isn’t drinking enough for my liking. I’ll have to google that after I deal with Kara and Boone.
“Did you swallow them?”
She nods and drops her jaw so I can check. Even her tongue is sexy as hell.
“Good girl.” I lower her to the mattress, and I think she mumbles a thank you, but she’s also been muttering a bunch of nonsense I can’t figure out.
Once again, I mummify her in the blankets, then head down to put out my tenth fire of the day.
* * *
“Brad! All my stuff is over there,” Kara wails while I ruminate on Boone’s words.
He’s a giant of a man, my height, about six-four, I would guess, but his broad shoulders and full beard make him more intimidating. At least until he speaks. He’s the epitome of a gentle giant, according to Kara, but I can barely hear the guy half the time.
“I have the family room enclosed in plastic. You’ll be able to get in to grab your stuff, but this is going to push our deadline back by at least a month. But the last thing you want to do is take shortcuts with mold and asbestos.”
“No. I’ll not put Kara’s health at risk.”
“Where will we stay?” My little sister is probably hoping that this is her ticket back to New York, but that’s not in our immediate future.
Charlotte’s front door opens, and I curse my visitors for not locking it behind them.
Mr. and Mrs. Carver enter with another shopping basket. I might understand the satisfaction Kara receives from eye rolls now.
“How’s the patient? We’ve brought her soup…” Mrs. Carver’s gaze lands on Boone. “Didn’t know you were here, Boone. How are you?”
“I’m good, Mrs. Carver, thank you. Thane’s got an issue over at his house though.”
A growl rumbles in my chest. Why does everyone insist on sharing personal information all the time?
“What kind of issue?” Mr. Carver asks.
Before I can cut in, Boone ushers them to Charlotte’s sofa as if he lives here, and my volcano begins to spit in my chest.
“Mold and asbestos. They’ll have to move out for a while. We were just discussing where they’d stay.”
“I won’t leave Charlotte.” I glance around as my voice echoes in the small space.
“Tone, Thane.” Mrs. Carver clucks, and it makes Kara snicker.
“This is a tough one,” Mr. Carver says, fiddling with the decorative jars Lottie has on her coffee table. Why must he touch everything? “The bed and breakfast is closed for renovations, and the closest hotel would be over by Dollywood, about forty minutes from here.”
“That’s not acceptable. Charlotte’s ill and needs me.” Heat races through my body at the thought. She’ll never willingly be dependent on another person—she’s too strong for that—but I do like taking care of her. More than like, actually… It feels right on a molecular level.
This is where I’m supposed to be.
“I just rented out my last property yesterday,” Boone says. “I don’t have any other availability for a few weeks.” He scratches his head as he talks. It’s like he has fleas, and it makes my own head itch.
Fucking Boone.
“Well, Lottie’s got the guest room above her office. There’s also a twin bed in the storage room she never got rid of.” Mrs. Carver taps her thigh while she thinks.
“Done. Rafe will stay in the guest room, and Kara will take the twin bed for now.”
All five heads slowly turn to me.
“That’s not really a decision you can make.” Rafe speaks to me with his hands held out in a placating form as though I’m going to have another meltdown.
This is why I don’t like people being too close to me. Once they see beneath the curtain, they treat me as if I’m glass when I know I’m fucking steel.
My stomach seizes. Will Charlotte eventually look at me as Rafe does?
“Oh, Lottie’s a good girl. She won’t mind. Plus, Winona told me how sick Lottie was down at the Patch. Thane’s right not to leave her side.”
“And where will you stay?” Rafe asks.
Last night I slept on Charlotte’s floor. My back is paying for it today, but that won’t stop me from doing it again tonight. “Here.”
“Thane.”
I stare at Rafe. Concern, or maybe confusion, shows on his face.
“I slept on her floor last night to ensure she was all right. I’ll do the same thing tonight, and then I’ll sleep on her sofa when she’s feeling better.” I spin on my heel to head back upstairs.
“What if she doesn’t want us here though?” Kara’s words are quiet. When I search for her face across the room, I frown. Is she scared?
“Pfft. Lottie’s not gonna kick you out.” Mr. Carver says.
“Kicking someone out and inviting them to stay with you are two different things, though,” Boone says. He just can’t help sticking his nose into my business.
I’ve always been an ask for forgiveness, not permission kind of guy, so I continue to the stairs. “When Charlotte is well enough, we’ll reassess and discuss this with her. Does that work for everyone?”
“It’s your funeral,” Boone mutters.
“We’ll take your lead, Thane. But prepare yourself for Lottie’s wrath,” Rafe says. “Traditionally speaking, moving yourself into your self-proclaimed girlfriend’s home after only a few weeks puts you right back into stalker territory.”
“I’m not a stalker.”
“You’re a little stalkerish, Brad. But like, with a good heart. You’re a good-hearted stalker.” I can’t tell if Kara’s fucking with me or truly trying to help. Her grin gives nothing away while her eyes remind me of the Joker’s.
“A good-hearted stalker. What does that even mean?” Boone chuckles.
“Don’t you have work to do?” I growl in his direction.
Generally speaking, I like the guy as much as I like anyone. He doesn’t use unnecessary words, he has great references, and he pretty much keeps to himself, but today I’m questioning my vetting process entirely.
“I do.”
When he stands there, I peer over at Rafe, who shrugs.
“Well.” I roll my hand toward the door. “Get on with it then. Rafe, can you grab my stuff and make sure Kara gets everything without touching the poison?” I knew that house was toxic as soon as I saw the snot-colored carpeting.
“I’ll give you this, Thane.” Rafe smirks, then heads to the front door. “When you jump in, you don’t aim for the deep end. No, you head out into the middle of the ocean, send the ship away, and search for Atlantis. Hopefully, this doesn’t come back to kick you in the ass.”
“Oh, don’t you go putting ideas into his head.” Mrs. Carver clucks. “This is what we do in Sweetbriar. We take care of each other. You boys take Kara to get your stuff. Vinny and I’ll go make up the beds next door.”
I nod in thanks and then take the stairs two at a time to get away from all the probing eyeballs.
Do I know what I’m doing? Probably not. But if ever there was a time to trust my instincts, it’s now, and all my instincts point me straight to Charlotte Sinclair.