Chapter 34
“Tyler?” a young girl’s voice sounds through my phone. “We need your help.”
It takes me a second to realize who’s speaking. “Abs?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” comes her tearful response. “Something’s wrong with Mom. She asked for you. I got your number from her phone. But she’s so sick. I’m scared. She almost passed out in the kitchen.”
“I’m on my way. Give me five minutes and I’ll be there.”
All week I’ve noticed Jo was sluggish and tired. Last night she even let the kids have cereal for dinner, told me to stay home, and went to bed early. Was she sick this whole time and I missed it? Granted, I’m no doctor, but I should have picked up on her not feeling well.
When I get to Jo’s, the door is unlocked and I let myself in. Abby’s eyes are puffy from crying, and even Jay sits quiet on the couch, knees drawn to his chest.
“Where’s your mom?” I hurriedly ask.
Abby points to Jo’s room, and I take off, opening her door as quietly as I can in case she’s sleeping.
The room is dark, lit only by the soft yellow glow of the bedside lamp.
Jo is curled up in the middle of her bed beneath a mountain of blankets, hair stuck to her forehead, skin pale with a sheen of sweat with Smudge tucked into her side.
A pile of used tissues lies scattered around her.
When I get closer, I hear the rasp of her breathing, and see that the skin under her nose is raw and red.
Although I try to be quiet, she stirs, her eyes fluttering open. They’re glassy and unfocused.
“Tyler?” Her voice is barely audible, exhausted, like even speaking costs too much energy.
“I’m here,” I say softly, dropping to my knees at her bedside. “I’m right here, Jo.”
She tries to sit up, but I brace a hand on her shoulder to gently guide her back down.
“Don’t go,” she mumbles, her head lolling onto her pillow.
“I’m not going anywhere.” I brush a strand of damp hair from where it’s stuck to her cheek. “You’re burning up, Jo. Jesus.”
“I tried…” She stops to take a breath, her voice so faint I have to lean in to hear her. “Tried to make dinner. The kitchen started spinning and…”
“You don’t need to explain. Just rest.”
“But I think Abby’s mad. We planned a movie night,” she slurs.
“Abby’s not mad, love. She’s worried. We all are. But I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Jo gives the smallest nod, her hand searching blindly until she finds my fingers.
“Everything will be okay, Jo,” I promise, bringing her hand to my lips.
She drifts back into a fevered sleep, her breaths shallow. I rise to sit beside her, not letting go of her hand.
Behind me, the hallway creaks, and I turn to find Abby standing there, hugging herself.
“Is she gonna be okay?”
“She will,” I say, keeping my voice steady for Abby’s peace of mind.
“It’s likely the flu. She needs rest, fluids, and maybe a doctor if she’s not better in the next few days.
But I’ll stay with her. Would you mind grabbing some Tylenol if you’ve got it?
And a thermometer. Can you find that for me, Abs? ”
Abby nods and disappears down the hall, reappearing a moment later with a bottle of Tylenol, a forehead thermometer, and some Gatorade. She steps into the room, walks to Jo’s bedside and hands it to me.
“Thank you for showing up.”
“Abby,” I say gently. “Of course I showed up. I wish I’d shown up sooner.”
Abby nods and casts her eyes to her mom’s sleeping frame. We go quiet, watching the rise and fall of Jo’s chest.
“Can I ask you something?”
Surely she’s not about to ask if I’m her father. She’s eyeing me with a shrewd expression, but this cannot be the way she finds out. Not when she’s worried sick about her mom and everyone’s emotions are already all over the place.
“Do you love my mom?”
Letting my eyes search Abby’s for a beat, I finally respond. “I care deeply about all three of you.” Though I’d love to let the world know how much I feel for Jo and her family, the first person who should hear it isn’t Abby, but Jo herself.
That response seems to satisfy Abby because she offers a small smile and I return it with one of my own.
She turns on her heel to leave Jo’s bedroom, but stops at the doorway and turns back.
“She never lets anyone take care of her, ya know,” Abby says quietly. “She always says she’s fine even when she’s not.”
I glance back at Jo, her body curled beneath the covers, her hand still wrapped loosely around my own. “She doesn’t have to do that anymore.”
Abby nods. “Good. I’m glad it’s you.”
Those four words hit me harder than I expect. I’m glad it’s you. This kid has no clue how glad I am that it’s me. And not just for Jo, but for her and Jay, too.
“Why don’t we order something from the diner for dinner,” I suggest. “I’ll be here if you or Jay need anything tonight.”
After dinner I must fall asleep next to Jo, because when she whimpers softly, I’m wide awake, reaching for her.
When my hand wraps around the side of her neck, I almost recoil.
Her skin is like summer heat rolling off black pavement.
Earlier, I managed to get some medicine in her, but it seems it’s not touching this fever.
I press a hand to her cheek then her forehead and she leans into my touch with a soft moan.
Grabbing the thermometer, I power it on to check her temperature. 103.1. God, that’s high.
“Jo, love. I need you to wake up.”
“Hmm.” She stirs, humming in the back of her throat, but her eyes don’t open.
Standing, I go to Jo’s bathroom and turn on the faucet, checking the temperature a few times until it’s lukewarm. Hopefully this will bring her fever down. I grab a towel and washcloth from her linen closet and return to Jo’s bedside.
“Jo,” I say, more forceful this time. “We need to get you in a bath. You’re burning up.”
Her lashes lift a crack, and she gives a quick nod.
Undressing her isn’t easy, with her body nearly deadweight and horizontal, but finally I get her clothes off and scoop her up, one arm behind her and one under her legs.
She snuggles into me, looping both arms around my neck, and I press my lips to her scorching hot forehead.
Heat can be felt everywhere my bare skin touches.
“I feel like…” She trails off. “I feel like Lois.”
“Shh. You’re delirious.”
“You’re Superman and I’m Lois Lane.”
Shaking my head and chuckling, I deposit her into the water.
Her head falls back against the edge of the tub, eyes peeled open to half slits.
Jo watches as I kneel and grab the washcloth.
I dip it into the water, slowly moving it from her cheek, down her neck to her shoulder.
She shudders under my touch, and I do the same on the other side.
The bathroom is silent save for the trickle of water and Jo’s labored breathing.
“Somedays…” she whispers lazily. “Somedays I think I dreamed you up. Like the night we met, my brain conjured you and it took this long for that dream to repeat.” She grins and pokes me on the arm. “You’re my recurring dream, Tyler.”
Her words make me smile. “No, Jo. I’m real. I’m here as long as you’ll have me.”
Jo’s eyes flutter closed again. “I like that,” she whispers, barely audible.
I run the wash cloth over her body until the water turns cool and I think her fever might have lowered. Then I help Jo stand, her legs unsteady beneath her. Bracing her hands on my shoulders, I towel her off with care, wrapping it around her body when she’s dry and scoop her up in my arms again.
Her body curls against my chest and for a brief second I rest my cheek against her damp curls, holding her close like she’s everything to me. Every single fucking thing to me.
After setting her on the edge of her bed, I grab a pair of panties and a T-shirt, and make quick work of dressing her. Jo sighs, sinking back into the mattress, head falling against her pillow. Climbing in next to her, I wrap an arm around her waist to draw her close against my chest.
Mere seconds from sleep, Jo’s voice sounds in the stillness.
“Tyler?”
“Hmm?” I hum into the dark.
“I could fall in love with you so easily. If only I’d let myself. Might already be there.”
And then…silence. Soft snores follow, like the words never left her mouth.
But they did. And now they’re seared into me, a brand on my heart. I stare at the ceiling, wide awake, heart thundering in my chest.
If only she knew…
I’ve been there far longer than she realizes.