Ozrik #2
A new dashcam had been installed in my car, and it recorded everything, so we didn’t even have privacy on our drive.
“You don’t look well,” Gale said after a few more miles.
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
“Are you fevered? You’re shivering.” He reached across the console to touch my head, and I swatted his hand.
“Goddammit, I said I’m fine. Lay off. I’m not fucking sick.”
Gale shrank. “I’m sorry.”
I pinched my eyes closed, instantly regretting my reaction and animosity.
Taking inventory of all my symptoms, I deduced that I was indeed fevered and probably should have taken Tylenol or something before hitting the road.
Yes, I was sick, but Gale didn’t get it.
I’d spent a lifetime being told how I felt.
It made me inordinately defensive when other people pointed it out, even when he spoke the truth.
Vern and Roe guided us to several potential hot spots, and I never once offered commentary. I didn’t care. I wanted to sleep. I wanted my bed. As hypocritical as it sounded, I wanted my mother.
In the end, we saw nothing more than brilliant lightning storms and daunting skies.
I stood in the rain for hours, barely participating. At the last stop, I didn’t get out of the car and dozed off and on while the others did their thing. When the car door slammed, I opened my eyes and found Vern in the driver’s seat instead of Gale.
I roused and glared. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you back to the motel and putting your ass to bed.”
I blinked hazily out the windshield. “Where’s Gale?”
“He’s taking my spot in the bug. Fuck it’s hot in here. Why do you have the heat cranked?”
“I’m freezing. Vern, you can’t leave him. Gale hates being crowded.”
“Well, it was his idea.” Vern turned the heat down and reached over the middle console to touch my forehead before I could react. “Fuck. You’re burning up. Christ.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re sick.”
“Fuck you. I’m not fucking sick.”
“Uh-huh.” He put the car in gear.
Back at the motel, I slept for twelve hours and woke up worse. Everyone was packing up and heading home. The forecast had shifted, and better storms were popping up in Kansas and Arkansas over the following week, so the game plan was to spend a day or two recovering before hitting the road again.
I didn’t see Gale. His Jeep was gone by the time I woke, and I wandered listlessly until Vern put me in the car and fed me more Tylenol.
He drove since I was too out of it and couldn’t keep my eyes open.
I dozed for the first bit. Once the meds kicked in, I was more alert and texted Olivia, asking for Gale’s number.
Since she was driving, I didn’t expect to hear back from her any time soon.
“What’s up with you and Gale?” Vern asked at one point.
“Huh?” I feigned ignorance, but my best friend knew me too well.
“Dude, every time Jazz opens his trap and says something about him, you get murderous. He isn’t a team member. What do you care? Maggie says—”
“What’s up with you and Maggie?” I retorted.
Vern stalled, wet his lips, and shrugged. “Is he gay? Are you two fucking?”
“Are you and Maggie fucking?”
He didn’t answer, so neither did I. We’d been best friends long enough to know each other’s truth.
I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep.
If Stella Devereaux obsessed over my health when I was well, she was downright manic when I was truly sick. Sadly, because I felt sorry for myself, I soaked up the attention.
She sat by my bedside, stroked my hair, and gave me Tylenol to keep the fever at bay. She fed me canned chicken noodle soup and crackers and swaddled me in blankets when I shivered. She had no need to spike my drinks or tamper with my food. I was a perfect and willing patient.
When she insisted on bathing me, however, I put my foot down. Stella didn’t see anything wrong with it, but it would be a cold day in hell when I submitted to that invasion. A man had limits.
I spent five days in bed and missed two chases in Arkansas. Charles called and warned me to pull my shit together as though being sick and out of commission was a choice. Vern checked in more than once, keeping me in the loop.
By day three, when the fever haze finally released me, I texted Gale to see how he was doing.
He didn’t answer. I texted twice more the following day but got no response.
After witnessing a tornado and spending hours under the stars, I thought we were in a good place, but his absence and silence concerned me.
Had Jazz gotten at him?
Had the run gone badly?
Was Olivia taking his side or harassing him along with her friends?
It dawned on me that our last interaction had been in the car while on a chase when I’d been delirious with fever.
I recalled his concern over my health. My biting words.
Gale was insecure when it came to relationships and trust. He admitted he didn’t do well with hostility or confrontation.
Was my comment enough to frighten him off? Make him second-guess us?
After five days in bed, I was stir-crazy and felt well enough to venture out of the house. I showered and dressed before slinking to the kitchen, where I found my mother making toast.
“You should be in bed.”
“I’m much better.”
“Oh. How’s your appetite?” She focused on unscrewing the peanut butter jar lid.
“Not hungry. I have to do some running around and check in with the guys.”
Stella sized me up and down. “You’re leaving?”
“Yes. For a bit.”
I waited for her to object, tell me I was too sick to go out, or underdressed for the weather. Instead, she ducked her chin and nodded. No comment. No protest. It was bizarre, but I didn’t question it.
When she slathered peanut butter on the toast and plated it, taking a bite from the top piece before setting it down, I asked, “Want to share a slice? I should eat something, right? Keep my energy up.”
She readily gave up the second piece of toast, a soft smile on her lips, but the sadness in her eyes remained.
“Are you okay, Mom?”
“Of course, sweetie.”
“Thank you for taking care of me this week.”
She smiled, but it was weak. “I’ll change your bedding while you’re gone. Freshen up your room. Air it out.”
“I can do it later.”
“No, it’s fine. Gives me something to do.”
“Okay. I’ll be home in a bit.”
Stella sat at the table, her posture slumped. This was usually when she told me to text her, but she didn’t.
I tucked my concern away for later.
Oil Slick greeted me at the car, and I wondered if she’d been hanging outside the house all week, waiting for me to show my face. She meowed and weaved between my legs, as though giving me hell for my long absence.
“Hey, girl.” I hiked her into my arms, and we shared loving.
“Don’t give me hell. I was sick. You could have gone to Lex’s or Noah’s.
They would have fed you.” She head-butted me, and I laughed.
“Yeah, yeah. I missed you too. I was heading out. Do you want to come for a car ride? It’s a long walk to Gale’s. ”
Slick didn’t object when I opened the door and encouraged her inside. She wandered the front and back seats before settling on the passenger side and curling into a contented ball.
I aimed for the county road and Gale’s house as a thousand thoughts rolled around my head. I absently petted Slick, and she purred until she fell asleep.
Vern had updated me about their runs in Arkansas.
The team had witnessed a tornado, and I was pissed I’d missed it.
Vern called it a baby tornado, and his enthusiasm matched, so maybe it wasn’t anything glorious.
I was still jealous. At least the action would make Charles happy. I hoped they recorded decent footage.
It was midweek, so I wasn’t sure if Gale would be home. Apart from photography and his random escapes to multiple campgrounds, he didn’t have a nine-to-five job. I suspected he rarely left the house.
The Jeep was in the driveway, but another car I recognized was parked behind it.
Lex’s. Why was Lex here? I debated leaving—my presence might raise questions and spark rumors—but the decision was taken out of my hands.
Lex and Gale’s dad were huddled over a riding lawn mower near the barn and glanced up at my arrival.
“Are you waiting here?” I asked the cat.
Slick buried her face under a paw and seemed in no rush to escape.
“All right, but don’t get mad at me later. You chose this. I won’t be long.”
I got out, leaving the door open for a minute to ensure she didn’t change her mind. She didn’t. Instead of heading to the house, I crossed the yard toward the men.
“Ozman.” Lex offered a fist to bump as he sized me up. “Feeling better?”
“Much. I hear I missed a solid touchdown in Arkansas.”
“Meh. It was all right. We were about half a mile out. We’ve seen way better, though, so you didn’t miss much. What are you doing here?” He eyed the house, and I sensed he knew.
I flashed my attention to Gale’s dad, who also had a knowing look in his eyes. Had Gale told him?
Instead of answering, I reflected the question back at Lex. “What are you doing here?”
“Mr. Windrow is having trouble with his mower. Uncle Al sent me out to have a look at ’er.”
“Nice. You’re in good hands,” I said to Mr. Windrow, exchanging smiles.
“Gale’s inside, if you’re looking for him. Hiding out in the basement, if I had to guess.”
Yeah, I suspected we weren’t fooling anyone.
“Cool. Thanks.” Without explanation, I headed for the back porch and let myself into the house.