Chapter 16
It’s definitely a cold.
I’m blaming it on the upstairs shower never getting warm, and the sudden drop in temperature my body clearly wasn’t ready for.
Keoni hadn’t helped either, even if he didn’t realize what he was doing. The way he looked at me, touched me—it set my heart racing. I was getting lightheaded simply from cooking, but his proximity and touch amplified it. To be honest, I feared I was going to throw up on him.
So, I did the only thing I could think of—run.
Ugh.
I haven’t really gotten out of bed since then, not even after Keoni left for work the next morning.
I’m not sure how long it’s been. I got up once for water from the upstairs sink, but otherwise, I’ve stayed buried under blankets.
Clover curls at my side, shifting between my legs like she belongs there.
When my phone buzzes, I groggily reach for it. Relief washes over me when I see it isn’t Michael. God, I hope he just tossed out my things and moved on. Stuff can be replaced, my mental health on the other hand? It’s on the verge of completely shattering.
The text I received was from Alysa.
Lefty
I’m so sorry it’s taken me so damn long, but I sent the keys to the Boulder apartment.
No problem. Not feeling good atm, talk later.
Oh shit. Please fucking tell me it isn’t Michael.
I swear to Christ I’ll kill him.
No. Pretty sure it’s a cold.
And you’re all alone out there… damn it, righty…
I’m shameful for not telling my sister that Keoni is living here with me. Or, more accurately, that I’m living here with him.
So, instead of correcting her, I continue with a partial lie. Technically, I am here alone… right now…
Food delivery service is a life saver.
Sending you all my love. Talk later.
Placing my phone down, I throw my arm over my eyes and release a throaty groan. I’m certain I have a fever, and my body is trying to sweat it all out. There was no medicine in the pantry up here, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to get back upstairs if I crawl downstairs.
I could cuddle up on the couch… or maybe in Keoni’s sheets. He won’t be back for a few days. Sunday, I think is what he mentioned when he was leaving.
My pillow vibrates, and I fumble for my phone with heavy fingers.
Keo.
Even seeing his name makes me feel a little less sick.
Keo
I was thinking about it, and I find it weird we never went camping together. You know, as a family.
Why is that weird?
I don’t know.
What’re you doing?
I cannot help but laugh, which I regret, because it makes my temples throb. Groaning, I close my eyes and turn to my side, causing the feline to scuttle away.
I wndlt have minded. Wr still cqn.
I let the phone slip from my hand, and shove it just out of reach. Another buzz vibrates against the pillow, but I only manage a ragged sigh before turning away. Sleep drags me down.
I’ll respond to him when I wake up. Hopefully I’ll feel better by then.
There’s a strange weightlessness in my dream; a faint buzz in my ear that makes me think I’m on a plane. My feet don’t touch the ground, and the air feels uncomfortable, like the temperature is as confused as I am.
I tremble as I inhale the smell of something familiar—nothing like a plane. That at least confirms I’ve not been whisked away onto an airplane and am thirty-thousand feet in the sky. That would be ridiculous. Still… why do I feel like I’m floating?
A groan catches in my throat as my eyes flutter open.
Blue fills my vision as the aroma of the outdoors tangles with something achingly familiar.
Keoni. He smells of some tropical blend of sweet fruits, along with hints of mint and the night air.I shift slightly, my cheek brushing against muscle.
A mumble slips out, but no real words. Keo takes up my entire world.
Above him, the cabin ceiling drifts by. At least that tells me we’re still home, and I’m not at a hospital or somewhere I don’t want to be.
The creak of a door opening is followed by his scent intensifying in the air. Doesn’t take a genius, or non-sick person, to tell me he’s carried me into his room. I should look around, take in this space I’ve never been in, but I can’t stop staring at his face. He’s so serious looking.
Don’t laugh, Ayden.
I’m slowly lowered into gray sheets. The moment my body sinks down, he notices I’m awake, and his chest deflates with what sounds like a sigh of relief.
“Hey,” he whispers. “Have you taken any medicine?”
I shake my head, or, I think I do.
“Ayden?” Guess not. “Words, please.”
“No.”
The shuffling of feet away from me clears my view to take in the room. It’s relatively bare. Directly in front of me is a five-drawer dresser with a small TV resting on top. To the left is a closed door, and to its right is the entrance to the bedroom, which is open.
Everything is wood-paneled, and a few photos hang on the walls within my line of sight. I’m not interested in moving my head—whatever cold this is has really hit me hard.
Keo comes back into the room, followed by a soft meow. I still can’t believe how attached that cat is. It actually blows my mind.
He kneels beside the bed, and I finally take in his appearance.
Holy fuck, I’m glad I’m not capable of being hard. At least, I hope not. That would be extremely embarrassing.
He’s wearing dark blue uniform pants, tight against his thighs, straining as he lowers onto one knee.
His matching polo has all three buttons undone, and a symbol is stitched on the right chest. His hair is pulled back in his signature bun.
His five o’clock shadow is the perfect length—which feels strange to notice, but this is the closest our faces have been since my graduation.
“Sit up for me,” he commands while putting a hand behind my neck to assist me. “Fuck, you’re so hot, Ayden.”
I snort-laugh. “Thanks.”
His groan just makes him hotter. Damn it. “I’m serious. Come on.” He shifts to the bed just as I’m sat upright, his large hand holding the back of my neck in a grip that feels possessive. “Open and take this.”
I look at his fingers. Pinched between his index finger and thumb are two white pills. I do as he says and stick my tongue out slightly. There’s only a brief pause—just a second—before he presses the medicine into my mouth. Followed by a feeling of glass pushing against my lips.
“Drink.”
There’s no argument, no waiting, as I lean my head back and take a sip of the room temperature water.
The sound of the cup being sat onto wood comes with his heavy sigh. “How long have you been feeling like this?”
He slowly helps me to lay back down, and once I’m there, he begins moving the blankets until I’m under them.
“What day is it?”
“You don’t know? It’s Saturday. Have you not been out of bed at all?”
I go to throw my arm over my face, when he grabs it. “Don’t hide from me, it’s alright. Just answer the question.”
There’s no shame in my answer, and I’m not doing what he’s implying—it’s just a comfortable position. “I got up to pee.”
Suddenly, a cool sensation settles against my forehead.
“And you didn’t think to take any medicine?”
I grumble, not wanting to explain that I’d feared I wouldn’t be able to make it back up the stairs… or that I hadn’t wanted to crawl into this bed because I worried I’d never want to get out of it.
“None was upstairs.” Yeah, I’ll go with that.
“Did you start feeling like this before I left for work?”
I nod.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” He sounds hurt, and my stupid heart clings to it desperately.
Because I thought I was having heart palpations over my attraction for you, not because I was sick.
“It didn’t really hit me this hard until you were gone,” I lie. “It’s… I’m fine… Wait.” Something hits me, and I really don’t need to ask because it’s pretty obvious, but I still do. “Did you leave work?”
I watch as he leans back from me, one hand resting on my side while the other runs through his hair. He pulls it free from the bun, letting it bounce past his collarbone. His head tilts back, and as his cheek brushes his shoulder and he looks at me, my heart somersaults.
“Your text was… concerning.”
My lips part in surprise.
“I texted you back, then called you, but nothing.” I don’t need him to explicitly tell me he was worried, because I can see it in his eyes that shift between mine.
I let out a light, nervous laugh. “And you just ran over to save me, huh?”
“Yes.” There’s no playfulness in his tone, and it keeps me from retorting something witty.
He reaches up and flips the towel over my forehead, letting out a heavy sigh. It’s one that screams of his own exhaustion, but before I can say anything, he asks, “Are you hungry?”
Honestly, everything hurts, including my stomach. It’s in knots, and I can’t tell if it’s from this cold, from him resting over me like this, or if I’m actually hungry.
“I think there is some tomato soup, maybe some minestrone.”
Turning my head, I look at the cup of water and reach for it. He doesn’t try to help, surprisingly. I’m able to drink it and place it back down, before adjusting fully back to laying down.
“Maybe some soup… then I can go back upstairs to sleep.”
He slowly gets to his feet as a soft laugh rumbles from his chest. “You think I squeezed us down those narrow stairs with you in my arms for me to just inevitably take you back upstairs? No, Ayden, you’ll sleep here.”
I swear I try to breathe, but it just locks up in my chest. He wants me to sleep in here? In his bed? With him?
Fear keeps me from asking, because I don’t know what I hope the answer will be—whether he’ll sleep beside me, or be a gentleman and take the couch, or another room. I’m a filthy liar to myself, because I absolutely know which one I want.
I must’ve zoned out because when I bring myself back to the present moment, he’s out of the room and instead, I’ve got bright blue eyes and gray fur shoved in my face.
Her loud purring as she presses against my face has me smiling. I’ve never had any animal be attached to my hip like this one. It’s quite strange, but I’ll admit, because of her I do feel much better the moments when Keo isn’t in the house.
“Hey, girl, thanks for staying by my side.”
It was probably only a few minutes after I started stroking Clover’s back that I fell asleep. Keo woke me to eat, though I didn’t manage much. Only a few swallows in, then I was violently ill.
I’ve likely got the flu. Great. Just what I need.
I’m sort of glad the two of us are in professions where we see far worse things than vomit. He got me to the bathroom in just enough time for me to hurl into the toilet.
He made a joke about not needing to hold my hair back, which made me laugh.
Although he didn’t help wash me up, which again I’m grateful for, he stood in the doorway just in case I needed anything.
While I understand that everyone needs help, I don’t want to be treated like some delicate flower. Michael treated me like I was fragile. I hesitate to say, ‘like a girl,’ but that’s how it felt. He wanted us in specific roles, and it was obvious which one he had me in.
Him, the alpha, and me, the… submissive one.
I despise that, so while Keoni carrying me down the stairs would normally not sit right with me, I can tell it was for the best. He’s letting me ask for help, which is exactly what I want.
No.
It’s what I need.
Although he did everything right, in the end, he fucked up.
Alright, well, in my opinion he did. He went and slept on the couch, keeping the door open with clear instructions to call for him if I needed anything.
Is asking him to come back and be the big spoon too much?
I know it is. It’s why I just thanked him and let him walk away. Now, I’m staring up at the ceiling, hot and cold all at once, feeling like shit… and wanting my damn stepbrother.
Ex-stepbrother.
Whatever. My stepmom would have drowned me in the lake if she knew how badly I wanted her son. I should just come to terms with this friendship and stop wanting what I can’t have.
Fuck. Me.