34. Miles
34
Miles
“ Y ou really didn’t have to do this,” I tell Veronica for what feels like the millionth time as she carefully hands me a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup.
“Of course I did,” she says, brushing me off before walking around to the other side of the bed and climbing in.
I’m not entirely sure what I did to deserve the kind of care she’s giving me. Honestly, it’s taken every ounce of self-restraint not to tell her off, kick her out of my room, or even out of the apartment altogether. But if I’m being honest, I can’t deny that it’s been... well, nice. I’ve never had someone take care of me like this, and while letting go of so much control has been hard, I can’t say I hate it either.
“I’m not sure I agree, especially since I’m pretty sure most people don’t get showered by someone else,” I counter, considering no one has ever done that for me, nor is it something I’d have ever thought about doing for someone else.
“Just because it’s not something that happens often, doesn’t mean it’s something that shouldn’t happen at all.”
I try not to roll my eyes, especially since I’m not sure I even have the energy. Veronica may have been right about the shower breaking my fever, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t tire me out, even with her doing the majority of the work.
I suppose one thing I can be grateful for is that I no longer feel like I’m teetering on the edge of death. I might have downplayed how sick I actually was when I told Veronica I was feeling better, but the truth is, I was completely wrecked. Without her stepping in—forcing me to rest, take medicine, and actually relax—I’d probably still be fighting off the worst of it.
“Well, don’t go thinking this is going to be some recurring thing,” I warn her as I dip my spoon into the bowl and take a bite, the warmth of the broth spreading through me. Damn. Yet another thing she gets to be right about. If this were like any other time and I’d gotten sick, I probably wouldn’t be feeding myself or constantly drinking my liquids like she’s been forcing me to.
“Eh, I don’t know. We’ll see.” She casually shrugs while reaching over me to grab the remote off my bed as she flips on the television. “So, what are we watching?” she asks, changing the subject, which is likely for the best. I’m not sure I have it in me to keep arguing about this.
“We?” I ask, glancing over at her as I pause my spoon mid-bite. “I’m not even sure you should be hanging around me. This is probably contagious, and the last thing we need is you ending up sick too.”
“I work in a high school with snot-ridden kids who never wash their hands. Believe me, I’ve built a stronger immunity than a cockroach at a nuclear testing site.”
I lift a skeptical brow, resisting the urge to smile at her dumb joke.
“Seriously, when I first started, I caught every cold, flu, and plague imaginable—especially at the start of the year. But now? My body’s basically the Terminator. If I can survive a horde of germ-infested teenagers coughing directly in my face, I can handle being around you.”
“If you say so.” I sigh, finding it not worth getting into. “I still don’t think it’s a smart idea…”
“If you’re worried about me making you return the favor and take care of me if I get sick, don’t. I’m not going into this with any expectations. You’ve already helped me more than I could ever help you. We can just consider this my weak attempt at paying you back for everything you’ve done for me.”
My brows furrow. “You don’t owe me anything, and if that’s why—”
She interrupts, holding up her hand. “That’s not why I’m doing this. I’m doing this because I want to, and because I believe everyone deserves a little help now and then—even a grumpy smart-ass like yourself.”
“Well, I still don’t think it’s fair that you’re in here putting yourself at risk, even if you do have the immune system of a cockroach.”
“Miles,” she whines, tilting her head back and letting it fall against the headboard. “Just let me do this, okay?”
“Fine, but let’s get one thing straight—I don’t do debts. You can act like I don’t owe you anything in return, and that’s your choice, but I’m keeping tabs. And believe me, I owe you. Big time.”
“I still don’t think that’s how any of this should work, but if that’s what helps you sleep better at night, then fine. You’ll owe me one,” she says with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “So, back to my earlier question, what are we watching?”
“Whatever you want,” I reply, dipping my spoon back into the soup.
“I’m not sure you’re understanding how this works. You’re the sick one, so you get to pick. Now pick. I mean it too,” she says, waving a stern finger in my direction. “Because if not, I’m going to choose Criminal Minds or a Disney movie, both of which I know aren’t your favorite, so you better just give in and choose something before I do.”
Normally, the idea of watching either of those would have me battling her for the remote. But this time, I can’t muster the energy to care—or maybe it’s not just the exhaustion. Or maybe it’s something else entirely that’s making me strangely okay with letting her take the lead.
I may not enjoy admitting it out loud, but her being here, especially when she doesn’t have to be, and despite risking her own health, means more than I’ll ever care to admit. Sure, I can count on Blair, who seems to have already done her part with the soup and my car, but even back in the day, when we were kids, we never went this far for each other.
Back then, we’d help with medicine or bring water to the other if they needed it, but let’s be real—we mostly avoided getting close so we would't catch whatever the other one had. That was especially true with our grandma, who, despite doing absolutely nothing to help, always acted like we were inconveniencing her just by existing.
“Just pick something.” I nod toward the television before setting the half-eaten soup onto my bedside table. As good as it feels to eat something, that’s all I can handle for now. The fight my body has been putting itself through to ward off the germs has more than taken its toll as my eyelids grow heavy with exhaustion. “I’m probably going to nod off as soon as it starts anyway.”
She purses her lips, tilting them to the side for a moment before finally giving in.
I shift, adjusting myself until I’m lying down as she takes over, signing into her Disney+ account and selecting Big Hero 6 . I can’t say I’ve seen it before, and considering how quickly I plan to pass out, I’m pretty sure I’ll be asleep before it gets good anyway. Part of me wants to tell her she can leave and that I’ll be fine on my own, but knowing her, I’m fairly certain she’d shut me down before I could even finish the offer.
Instead of keeping her distance, like a smart person should, she makes herself more comfortable, moving in closer and settling directly next to me.
“You’re crazy, you know that, right?” I ask, because at this point it feels like she’s continually choosing to tempt fate.
“I’ve been told that before.” She proudly smiles, taking it as a compliment.
I know I should keep fighting her on this, but instead, I lift an arm, beckoning her in closer as she fully curls into my side, resting her head on my chest.
Earlier, the added warmth would’ve made me uncomfortable, but now, I soak it in and savor the comfort her body offers. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever felt safer or more at peace than I do in this moment.
Even with the movie playing in the background, I quickly drift off. Everything feels almost too perfect, and despite my illness and the knowledge that this is temporary, all I can do is savor the moment. I don’t want to think about what’s coming next. Right now, all I want is to be here, in this moment, lying next to the most perfect woman I’ve ever known.