Chapter 14
DARCY
“Okay, your temperature is on the way down. I think the antibiotics are finally doing their thing.” Mum runs a hand across my forehead before cupping my cheek in her soft palm. “I just called your boss and said you’re going to need a few more days off.”
I release a pained groan. “I wasn’t going to tell her that; I was going to send an email this afternoon and suggest I work from home for the rest of the week.”
Mum’s soft gaze turns more serious. “This infection has knocked you off your feet, Darcy. You’ve been cooped up in this room for four days now, and only today are you starting to show signs of a recovery. I’ve never seen sickness like it. I want you warm and rested. Mother’s orders.”
I grumble below my breath when she stands from the bed and tucks in my duvet.
Mum ignores my protests. “Chicken or tomato soup?”
“Chicken, please, but you know I can make my own soup. I’m twenty-four,” I reply, already restless to get on with life again.
She’s right; today is the first day where I’m starting to feel myself, the vomiting and diarrhea finally subsiding. I’m used to antibiotics, but these ones were new and didn’t sit well in my stomach. Still, they did the job—my chest isn’t as tight, and the coughing is beginning to ease.
“I’m quite aware of your age and ability to heat a pan of soup.
What I’m saying is, I can do it for you.
Jon and I are heading to Seattle the day after tomorrow, and I want to make sure you’re all set and okay.
It’s a mother’s prerogative.” Mum makes for the door, spinning around to face me.
“You’ll understand if you have children of your own one day. ”
I screw up my face. “Don’t hold your breath on that one. I think Jack and Kendra might be your best shot at becoming a grandma.”
Mum opens her mouth, probably to protest at the use of grandma, when a drilling sound stuns us both.
“Is that …” Mum doesn’t finish her sentence, thumbing in the direction of my front door. “Is that coming from outside?”
I shrug and pull the duvet back, sliding out of bed and grabbing my robe. “No idea, but I guess there’s only one way to find out.”
The drilling starts up again just as Mum reaches the front door and opens it, and I stay back a few paces.
Dressed in full overalls, with safety goggles on and an electric drill in hand, my landlord, Ian, stands in the doorway.
“Can I help you?” Mum asks, sounding genuinely confused.
Ian looks equally flummoxed as he takes our shocked faces in. He points to my doorframe. “I’m here to fit the smart doorbell.” He bends down, pulling a package out of his toolbox. “Also this dead bolt on the inside of your door.”
I have zero idea what he’s talking about, but get the feeling I shouldn’t argue. The guy is doing me a favor. “Oh, okay, thanks.”
He nods his head once and gets back to drilling just as Elsie pokes her head around the frame and smiles at me. She might be the nosiest neighbor I’ve ever had, but at least she knows when to keep her mouth shut. She’s never breathed a word to anyone about Archer’s visit.
Mum makes her way back down the hallway, running a light hand across my shoulders as she passes. “He seems like a very attentive guy. You can never have too much security, living in the city.”
My gaze lingers on Ian for a beat as he continues to work, still perplexed as to why he’s here. I never forget a conversation. “No, I guess not.”
With Mum heating soup, I head back into my bedroom and close the door, sliding back into my warm bed when my phone buzzes on the side table.
Thigh Boy
How are you feeling?
I smile down at the hundredth message he’s sent since I banned him from coming over while I was sick.
I told Archer not to come around for several reasons, the first being risk—I wasn’t lying when I said family could show up at any point.
Plus, I looked and smelled like absolute crap.
There is no way I’m letting him see me like this.
However, all that aside, I didn’t want him here, spending too much time with me.
He might be able to separate his feelings, treating me like a friend in need one second and fucking my brains out the next.
I can’t. There’s a sweet side to this boy, and slowly, I’m starting to understand why—aside from him being insanely handsome—women fall at his feet.
I wonder how many hearts he’s broken.
Me
Actually better. My temperature is coming down. Plus, this morning, I had this random package from my favorite dress store. All in a size four. Do you happen to know anything about this?
Thigh Boy
You have no idea how happy that makes me. And, no, no idea about the dresses. Who do I need to beat up?
Me
Well, thank you. I knew they were from you. That said, you can drop the sweet-boy act and just ask when you can come over and bang me.
Thigh Boy
Wow, Doll. That cuts deep.
So, when can I come over?
A spontaneous bubble of laughter spills from my rattly chest. He’s so fucking cheeky.
Me
Not right now. I have Mum here, heating soup like I’m ten years old, and my landlord is upgrading the security on my apartment.
I can’t even remember agreeing for him to come over today. Clearly, the sickness-induced hallucinations were bad this time around.
It must be five minutes before another text comes through from Archer, just as Mum hands me a tray of food and a glass of water.
“Who the hell is Thigh Boy? Or shouldn’t I ask?”
I pick up my spoon and take a first mouthful of soup. It’s only premade and from a packet, but it’s a universal fact that anything made by your mum always tastes better.
Swallowing my mouthful, I smirk around the spoon. “Just a friend.”
Mum picks up the phone and hands it to me, eyes a little wide at the message on display, and I cringe, wondering what the hell he wrote.
“A friend to you, perhaps. I’m not sure that feeling is mutual, honey.”
I open up the message thread just as Mum leaves the room, closing the door behind her.
Thigh Boy
It’s funny you mention hallucinations because I can’t stop thinking about you or the way you looked beneath me. So fucking beautiful.
Me
You wouldn’t be saying that right now. More like the bride of Frankenstein.
Thigh Boy
Show me.
Me
No.
Thigh Boy
*picture attached*
My tray of food almost cascades to the floor when I open the message from Archer.
He’s standing in front of a mirror—in what I presume to be a changing room—completely naked from head to toe, pointing at his thigh tattoo with one hand while flexing and holding his phone in the other.
I can see everything—and I mean, all of it.
Thigh Boy
Make sure you keep that image on lockdown in your phone.
Now you’ve seen me. Let me see you.
Me
Where the hell are you?
Thigh Boy
In the gym changing room.
Me
And where is everyone else—aka my brother and stepdad?
Thigh Boy
Both at a safe distance. Jack is in the shower stall behind me.
Me
You’re crazy—you know that?
Thigh Boy
Maybe I am. Still waiting on your picture …
I open my Camera app and flinch. Unwashed hair over several days, combined with a general look of malaise, is not attractive. On a sigh and with a face like a slapped arse, I snap the photo and send it to him.
Thigh Boy
Yeahhhh … I’m gonna need to see you.
Me
I promise I don’t feel as bad as I look.
Thigh Boy
That’s not what I was thinking. Let me come over, even if only to watch a movie with you and heat you some more soup. I’ll be on my best behavior.
Thigh Boy
If I told you I missed you, would you freak out?
Me
Well, you just did, and, no, I’m not freaking out. I kind of miss you too.
Thigh Boy
Of course you do. Anyone would miss this face. How about tomorrow? I can sneak off after our warm-up game against Philly.
By tomorrow night, there’s a chance I’ll be feeling way more human. That, and I’ll have at least had a shower.
Me
Yeah, that works.
Thigh Boy
I’ll bring all your favorite snacks.
Me
You don’t know my favorite snacks.
Thigh Boy
Oh, Doll. I thought you were finally working me out when you said I was crazy. Now I’m thinking we have a long way to go.
See you tomorrow night. Stay pretty, A, x.