Chapter 12 #3
“I really think you two need to talk though,” Laney interjects. “Speaking from personal experience, if Fletcher and I had just talked about everything we were feeling a long time ago, we wouldn’t have wasted all of that time not being together.”
“You think I should tell him that I was jealous?”
Laney glances at Dilynne before looking back at me. “Yeah, I do. And I think you might be surprised by his response.”
My phone rings for the third time, and now I’m starting to worry that something might be wrong. “Maybe I should answer him.”
Dilynne scoffs. “I mean, you’re only giving him a taste of his own medicine, but it’s up to you.”
I only hesitate for a second before I swipe across the screen. “Hello?”
“Elodie?” Henley’s voice comes out panicked.
“Yeah, Henley. What do you need?”
“It’s Remy,” he says, and my spine instantly straightens.
“What’s wrong?”
“She’s hot, El. Like really hot to the touch.”
“Well, she had a fever last night. Give her some Tylenol.”
“I did, and it’s not helping. She’s almost at 104.”
Standing from the couch, I take my wine glass and plate to the kitchen while balancing the phone between my head and shoulder. “That’s really high.”
“I know. What do I do?”
Dilynne and Laney can sense the alarm in my voice as they follow me into the kitchen. “I think you should take her to the emergency room.”
“Fuck. Really?”
“Yeah, she could have a bladder infection, ear infection, or something else going on that we can’t see.”
“I’m scared,” he whispers and in that second, my anger toward him dissipates.
“It will be okay. I’ll meet you there.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“Of course.” When I end the call, I look up and find Dilynne and Laney biting their bottom lips. “I need to go.”
“What’s going on? Is everything okay?” Dilynne asks.
“Remy has a really high fever. She had one last night, but not as high as what it is now. I’m going to meet your brother at the hospital.”
“Are you okay to drive?” Laney asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Reaching for my purse and keys from the floor by the couch, I slip my phone in my purse as I slide my shoes back on. “I’ll text you guys and keep you updated.”
“Please keep us updated. I don’t want to crowd you two, and I know my brother will stress out more if we show up. But Elodie?” Dilynne says as I reach for the front door knob.
“Yeah?”
“Talk to my brother. Stand your ground, but tell him how you’re feeling. I think he needs to hear it.”
My brow furrows from her suggestion, but I simply nod and then head out to my car, driving as fast as legally possible to the hospital, hoping that the little girl I’ve grown to care for—and her father—are going to be all right.
***
I twist my head in every direction as I run through the automatic doors of the ER. The sun has set on this horrendous day, leaving nothing but fluorescent lights blinding me as the darkness outside is visible through the windows.
“Elodie!” Henley calls out from my left, standing from the cushioned chair he was sitting in, Remy in his arms, her cheeks bright red from her temperature.
“I’m here.”
“Remington Clark!” A nurse calls out from the double doors that lead back to the triage stations.
“Perfect timing,” I say as I follow Henley and the nurse through the heavy metal doors and over to a bed where the nurse pulls the curtain closed around us, providing a sliver of privacy.
Henley sits on the bed with Remy in his lap, her soft cry echoing around us, breaking my heart even more than it already is.
“Poor baby bear. Don’t worry, we’re gonna figure out what’s going on with you, okay? ” I run my finger down her cheek.
The nurse swipes his badge in front of a scanner connected to the computer in the space. “What brings you in today?”
“Her temperature is really high and I can’t get it to go down,” Henley answers on a shaky breath, bouncing Remy in his arms trying to soothe her in between cries.
“How long has it been like this?”
“About five hours,” he says while I mentally take note of when her fever must have spiked again. At least she wasn’t too hot when I left this morning.
“Have you given her any medication?”
“Tylenol.”
“Dosage?”
“Whatever it said on the bottle,” he barks out. But the nurse shoots him a glare that could slice right through him. “Sorry. I’m a new dad, and I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“And who’s this?” the nurse tosses his thumb in my direction.
“I’m his wife,” I answer for Henley, kicking myself for even saying it, but I know it was necessary so I could stay back here. If I’m not family or involved with him, they would ask me to leave.
The nurse moves his eyes between us, but doesn’t fight me on it. “Let me get her vitals.” He does the necessary workup and tells us that the doctor on shift will be by when she can.
As soon as he leaves, I let out a shaky breath and glance at Henley, expecting him to snap at me for what I said, but he is too consumed by his daughter. “Sorry about the wife thing, but if I didn’t say that, they would have made me wait in the waiting room.”
He doesn’t even look up from Remy. “It’s fine.”
“Has she been fussy today?”
“Yeah.” He continues to bounce her in his arms, even as he stands to move around the small space between the curtains.
An uncomfortable silence rests between us, a lapse in conversation that makes me spit out the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m sorry.”
Henley shakes his head. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
“I shouldn’t have left you this morning.”
“No, you were right to.”
“Henley…”
His eyes finally meet mine. “No, El. Don’t. You were right.” He shakes his head again, the look of disgust resting in the lines of his face as he speaks. “You were right about so much. I just…” His words trail off. “I’m just really good at avoiding shit.”
“You don’t say.”
The corner of his mouth lifts and I take that as a win. “And I’m the one that should be sorry.”
“Let’s just agree that we both reacted out of anger and frustration and move on, okay?” I reach out my hand to shake his.
It takes him a minute, but he finally reciprocates. “Fine.”
At that moment, the doctor comes in and pulls the curtain closed behind her. “Hi there, I’m Dr. Miller. I spoke to the nurse, and it sounds like Remy has been running a pretty persistent high fever?”
Henley presses a kiss to Remy’s head. “Yes. I’ve given her Tylenol, but it barely touched it. I’m worried about my daughter.”
“I understand. Let’s take a look.” She warms the stethoscope in her hand before pressing it gently to Remy’s chest, listening for a moment. Then she examines her ears, humming softly. “Oh yes. Definitely an ear infection.”
Henley frowns. “Where could that have come from?”
“Pretty common at her age,” Dr. Miller says, straightening. “If she’s been congested, fluid can build up behind the eardrum and cause an infection.”
“Her nose did start running the other day, but she’s also teething, so I didn’t think too much of it,” I admit.
“Could be allergies or a cold, but she has fluid built up in there, so we’re going to prescribe her an antibiotic. Then I want you to alternate Tylenol and ibuprofen to help get that fever down. A cool bath could also help.”
“I tried a cold washcloth on her neck, but she didn’t like that,” Henley replies.
“Her body is fighting off an infection and the texture isn’t something babies tend to like, so I’m not surprised. Don’t worry, though. You did the right thing bringing her in. Give us a few minutes and we’ll get you on your way.”
The doctor walks back through the curtain, pulling it shut behind her.
Henley releases the biggest breath I’ve ever heard from that man, kissing Remy on the head again before he peers up at me. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You’re here,” he says, reaching out for my hand and squeezing it. And before I can cry for the fourth time today, I simply nod and look away until the nurse comes back with a prescription and tells us we can go home.
By the time we get Remy’s medicine, return to Henley’s house, give her a bath, and change her, the adrenaline from today is starting to wear off.
Henley’s in his room, attempting to get Remy down, and I’m sitting on the couch, staring off into nothing with my notebook open in my lap, the words to a song coming together for the first time in forever.
I haven’t been able to write in months, and after one of the most mentally draining days of my life, words started pouring out of me the second we got home.
Today has been a rollercoaster of emotions, but the thing that scares me the most is the jealousy I felt last night when Henley left his house.
And then when he didn’t answer my texts, all I could envision was him in bed with someone until the woman’s face turned into mine—imagining the way his hips would roll as he thrusted into me, the way his lips would move over mine then trail down the sensitive skin on my neck, the way his eyes would darken as he held my gaze and watched me fall apart beneath him.
It’s that combination of jealousy and fantasy that made a song about wanting someone you shouldn’t flow so freely. I was scared to stop writing for fear that the words would disappear.
The sound of Henley’s footsteps coming down the hall breaks through my fantasy, which is probably for the best.
“Is she asleep?” I ask as I stand from the couch, closing my notebook and tossing it on the cushion, watching him stalk toward me.
But Henley doesn’t say a word as his feet carry him across the room, his eyes heavy from the worry of the day, his face contorted with confusion, and his hair in disarray.
His broad shoulders frame his massive body, his presence becoming stronger and stronger, like all of the air is being sucked out of the room while our eyes remain locked on each other.
For a moment, I forget to breathe as I watch him walk toward me with purpose, until he’s standing right before me, framing my face in his hands, and smashing his lips to mine.
I freeze, completely taken aback until his tongue passes over my lips and an embarrassing moan travels up my throat. My arms wrap around his neck and I’m kissing him back.
Holy mother of God.
Henley’s hands move from my face to my hips, pulling me toward him with a possessiveness that makes my entire body ignite, the peak of the warmth radiating between my legs.
I move my fingers into his hair, the thick strands weaving through my nails as our tongues pass over each other.
A groan from Henley vibrates against my lips as a wave of lust travels down each of my limbs.
No man has ever kissed me like this—with this much need, this much desire, this much passion. If our mouths weren’t connected, I’m sure I’d be hyperventilating right now.
Our hands keep moving, lips keep seeking, and tongues keep searching until I feel Henley begin to slow the kiss. But we’re still connected, his touch just softer, more reverent, less hurried than before.
With one last soft press of his lips to mine, he slowly pulls back and I barely lift my eyes before finding him staring down at me, passing his thumb over my bottom lip.
The words that leave his mouth next leave me even more dazed and confused. “Goodnight, Elodie.”
And then he’s gone, walking back to his room, leaving me standing there, wondering why the hell my boss just kissed me—and knowing that it was the best kiss of my life.