Chapter Thirty Fever
SUTTON
It’s been days since our visit to the club, but as I’m sitting at the kitchen table, trying my hardest to focus on work…
I can’t stop thinking about the other night.
Jayce kept me suspended from the spreader as he used a wand vibrator on me, pressing it directly to my clit and forcing more than one orgasm out of me.
I came so hard, I actually squirted. Something I’ve never done before.
That wasn’t the end, either. He released me from the spreader only to tie me spread-eagled to the bed, and then he fucked me again and again and again…
The sound of my phone buzzing snaps me out of my wandering, dirty thoughts. I forgot all about the group text that’s happening.
Grace: So yes, we’re agreed on a girl’s night out? We thinking margaritas or martinis?
Skyler: Do we want to get Miami drunk, or Malibu drunk?
Rylee: As the forever DD, I vote you get Miami drunk. You get handsy on martinis, Sky.
Skyler: You love it.
Stacey: Honestly, I’d settle for boxed-wine drunk.
Skyler: Can you pump and dump?!?
Stacey: Oh, God, just the thought of dumping perfectly good liquid gold makes my boobs hurt.
I shake my head and laugh before typing a response.
Sutton: I vote for margaritas! That means chips and guac!
Rylee: Finally! Someone has their priorities straight!
The click of the front door opening makes me look up from my phone and I see Jayce walk into the penthouse. My cheeks burn as if I was nearly caught doing something naughty, and I quickly school my features so he doesn’t look at me and immediately know what’s going on in my pervy brain.
He’s carrying the duffle bag he always takes to practice, his hair still damp with sweat.
Nothing is immediately out of the ordinary, but within moments of looking at him, I can tell something’s wrong.
His face is pale and his eyes are hooded.
He looks like he could fall asleep right there on his feet.
When he left this morning, he seemed fine. No different from any other morning.
“Hey,” I greet him, frowning in concern. “How was practice?”
“Good,” he grunts, dropping his stuff and moving into the kitchen.
I watch as he pulls a glass out of the cupboard and goes to fill it at the tap.
His hand trembles — so badly, in fact, that he drops the glass right into the sink.
Thankfully, it’s sturdy enough that it only lands with a thunk — no shattered pieces — but this action still has me on my feet in an instant. He’s never clumsy.
“Jayce?” I hurry over to him. “Are you okay?”
He blinks at me, giving me a tired smile, the movement sluggish. His face is pale, but his cheeks are flushed and his eyes glassy. When I touch his arm, I’m startled by how hot he feels. I immediately press my palm to his forehead to check him for a fever.
“You’re burning up!” I gasp.
He ducks from my hand and waves his dismissively. “I’m fine.”
That’s obviously not true. Worry grips me and quickly tries to turn into full blown panic.
For a guy like Jayce to get this sick this fast…
what if something is really wrong? I’ve been around sick people since Colson, but none have made me as instantly anxious.
I don’t like the idea of Jayce weak and suffering.
I want to make him okay. I need to make him okay!
“No, you’re not,” I insist. “When did you start feeling unwell?”
He sighs and shrugs again. “I don’t know…I guess I felt off when I woke up this morning.”
My stomach drops and guilt swirls in with my anxiety. I missed it. How could I not notice that he wasn’t good this morning? Fuck, what is wrong with me? I could’ve kept him home and kept him from getting this bad.
“Come on.” I grab his hand. “What are you doing, running around with wet hair when you have a fever? We’re going to dry you off and then you’re going to bed. I’m also calling a doctor.”
No girls’ night out for me. I’ll let the others know once I get him settled.
He starts to roll his eyes again, but then shivers take over his body.
I start tugging him through the penthouse toward his bedroom.
Despite his protest, he follows me without resistance.
We make it to his bedroom and I sit him on his bed before going into the bathroom to grab a towel.
When I return, his head is nodding back and forth and he’s blinking heavily.
Standing between his legs, I use the towel to get as much of the excess moisture out of his hair as possible.
“Geez,” I murmur. “You’d think you were a little kid making a dumb decision like leaving home when you’re sick.”
“Sorry,” he mutters.
Shit, I shouldn’t be scolding him right now. “Don’t be sorry. Just take care of yourself, okay?”
He nods, then surprises me by wrapping his arms around my waist and dropping his head to rest against my chest. I freeze, uncertain what he’s doing.
“You smell good,” he mumbles. “Your skin is cool. Feels so nice.”
I hesitate a moment before slipping my arms around his head and hugging him while running my fingers through his hair.
After a few moments of just holding each other, I whisper, “Come on you, into bed.”
He nods and leans back. I pull the sheets back on the bed and help him into it.
Once he’s tucked in, I gaze down at him, my chest tight.
This man has become my strength and seeing him like this is…
gut-wrenching. I see a flash of hospital corridors and Colson’s pale face lying in a bed with monitors all around him and my chest tightens.
Anxiety claws at me and makes my stomach twist. The panic tries to rise and take over, a voice in the back of my head telling me that I’m going to lose him… just like I lost Colson…
No! I can’t think like that. Can’t jump to the worst possible scenario and let the panic win. Not when Jayce needs me.
That thought grounds me. Helps push my spiraling thoughts aside so I can focus on reality. On taking care of Jayce because he needs me right now.
Hurrying into his bathroom, I dig through the cabinets until I find a thermometer, and when I use it to take his temperature. It’s 102.2. It’s time to get some help.
I dig my phone out of my pocket.
“What’s the number for your doctor?” I ask.
“Uh…it’s on the desk,” he grumbles. “There’s an address book…”
I can’t help but grin. “An address book? Didn’t realize you were such an old man.”
He groans, but there’s a smile on his face. “I … like writing things by hand.”
I walk to his desk and pick up the address book, flip through it, and find the number for his doctor.
It rings a few times before a female voice answers, “This is Doctor Ramses’ office. How can I help you?”
“Hi, uh, I’ve got Jayce Vaughn here,” I begin, but she quickly cuts me off when she hears his name.
“I’ll transfer you to the doctor. One moment.”
Blinking, I glance at Jayce, but he’s already starting to nod off.
The line clicks. “This is Doctor Ramses. You’re calling about Jayce Vaughn?”
Startled, I stammer, “Oh, uh, yeah! He’s not feeling well. He has a fever and seems to have some weakness in his limbs.”
“Who is this?” he asks. “Are you a family member?”
I’m caught off-guard by the question, then manage to stutter, “Uh…I’m his fiancee.”
“Ah, good. Okay, what other symptoms does he have? Any coughing? Headache?”
“Um, no. Nothing like that yet.”
“What’s his temperature?”
“102.2.”
“All right,” he says matter-of-factly, “give him plenty of fluids, keep him in clean, cool clothes, and make sure he drinks some water before he sleeps. Acetaminophen is fine for the fever. As a whole, though, it might be a rough night, and this is something that needs to run its course.”
“Okay,” I nod. “I can do all that.”
“If he doesn’t show improvement by morning, or if his condition worsens during the night, call me back and we’ll reassess.”
“All right. Thank you, doctor.”
I hang up the call and tuck my phone away. Hurrying back to Jayce’s side, I touch his shoulder and wake him back up.
“Hey, no sleeping just yet,” I tell him gently. “I need to get you some water first.”
He blinks and nods. “Okay…I am really thirsty, actually.”
Giving him a reassuring smile, I rush out of the room to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Returning to him, I help him take a few sips then let him lay back down.
“You can go to sleep now if you want,” I murmur, brushing my fingers through his hair. “I’ll be right here.”
He nuzzles into my palm and closes his eyes. When he falls asleep, he looks so peaceful that some of my anxiety eases. This might not be as bad as I was anticipating.
Famous last words.
Jayce’s temperature drops a bit, thankfully, but he struggles with the fever symptoms more through the night.
He’s wracked with chills and soaks his clothes in sweat so much that I have to change him three times.
Before the third change, I help him into the shower.
He has to lean against me as we make our way into the bathroom.
Not wanting to risk him falling, I strip us both and get him under cool water spray.
He groans and drops his head to my shoulder as I rub the back of his neck with a wash cloth.
“Thank you,” he mumbles, his lips pressed against my shoulder.
“You’re welcome,” I reply. “Don’t worry. I’m going to get you through this.”
As the night progresses, I give him water, wipe his forehead with a cool rag, and murmur what I hope are words of encouragement as he shivers and curls in on himself.
All the while, my own fear threatens to drown me.
It only gets worse as I grow exhausted, my logical thoughts standing no chance against my panicked ones.
As tired as I am, there’s no way I’m going to sleep.
I refuse to leave his side. Anxiety is like a vice around my chest, squeezing tighter and tighter until I feel like I’m going to pop.
Still, I fight to hold it together and focus on Jayce. He needs me, and I’m not going to let him down like I did Colson.