Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
Jesse
Ishuffled out of my bathroom, my stiff joints feeling better after that fifteen minute shower.
Good grief. Never in my life had I been sick like that.
My abs ached from coughing and every muscle in my body hurt.
But the medicine I’d taken when I woke up was starting to kick in.
I could at least walk now. We must’ve picked something up from the rodeo.
Where was everyone?
What day was it?
I searched around for my phone and found it on the dresser across the room, hooked into a charger. I yanked it off, squinting at the screen.
Sunday?!
I scrubbed a hand through my hair, my jaw dropping at the number of notifications on my screen. Mostly group texts with other contractors and the vet and some messages from Tag. And more emails than I could ever sort through.
Tag sent a text Thursday night.
Tag
Enjoy your time off. Capitalize.
And another on Friday.
Tag
I’ll be gone till Sunday night. Rudy Rivers is back. Might bring him on full time at some point. Call me when you’re up.
Then one this morning.
Tag
Not to disturb your nap, but she’s been in your house for days. Hopefully you’re not still sleeping.
Ignoring his texts, I pushed into the living room, looking for Cade. Was Hollie here? I shook my head, my memory fuzzy. I remembered coming in from the rain.
And Hollie was singing. The girls were on my couch. Were they all sick?
In the living room, Izzy and Nora were draped over the couch and Cade lay in a wad of blankets on the ground.
The TV played a movie, Finding Nemo, and paper plates with half eaten pieces of sausage and cinnamon rolls sat on the coffee table.
Hollie was folded in the corner of the couch.
Her feet were tucked under her butt and her head was snuggled deep into one of my hoodies.
Her eyes were closed, mouth slightly ajar.
“Cade,” I whispered.
His head popped up. “Dad?”
The girls looked up, but the lack of movement told me they all still felt pretty bad, too. Man, whatever we got, got us good. I talked to the kids for a few minutes before looking back at Hollie, who had yet to move.
“How long’s she been sleeping?”
Cade shrugged. “An hour maybe? She said she was tired.”
I shuffled to her end of the couch and touched my hand to the back of her head.
Burning up.
I hoped she wasn’t sick the whole time she was caring for me. I sat next to her. “Hollie.”
She bolted upright, worried. “What?”
I laid a hand on her shoulder. “It’s just me. Have you taken any medicine?”
She licked her dry lips. “No.”
“I’m moving you to my room, okay?”
My muscles protested as I leaned to scoop her up, but she’d singlehandedly kept everyone alive through what had to be the worst virus we’d ever had.
She shouldn’t have to walk after that. Her arms clasped around my neck and, despite the ache in my bones, I smiled as I remembered toting her into McDonalds like this.
She quaked. “I’m…freezing.”
“I know.”
“I thought I wasn’t…going to get it.”
Leaning down, I set her on the bed and pulled the covers around her.
Her teeth chattered, which made me chuckle because she was so cute.
I hooked my hand around the back of her neck to help her sit up enough to get some medicine down and drink some water.
The hood slipped off, revealing a headful of frizzy hair.
As she took sips of water her blurry eyes flicked up to mine.
And my heart squeezed as strong protectiveness coursed through my body with a forcefulness that almost knocked me down.
Finally, I eased her head back to the pillow.
“Jesse?” She whispered.
I swiped my hand over her curls. “I’m right here.”
“Hold me.”
My gaze darted to the bedroom door which had fallen closed because the AC clicked on.
No movement or voices filtered down the hallway.
I could hold her. For at least a minute.
I stretched out on the bed beside her and she snuggled into my chest, threw an arm around my neck, and wrapped a leg around mine.
Our chests pressed together as she tipped her chin up, breathing into the crook of my neck.
It would take so little to kiss her pink lips. A tip of my chin and nothing more. But that hardly seemed fair, given the circumstances. So I rested my head against hers, wondering if she could hear the thrashing of my heart.
The off and on rain over the last few days had done wonders for the creek down behind the cabins.
The kids splashed around, giggling like mad.
They’d already caught a few crawdads and Nora cried when Cade suggested eating them.
As for me, I sat on a wooden chair, watching them and sipping the sweet tea Lynn had brought down to the cabin.
The last forty-eight hours, I’d done nothing but obsess over Hollie. On Sunday, the girls had moved back into Tag and Bea’s cabin with their grandma, but Hollie stayed in mine. And I may have overplayed my lingering symptoms in order to get a couple more days off work to care for her.
Her departure day came and went, and somehow, she was still here. In my desperation, I convinced myself she might stay when she woke up. That she’d like my cabin so much, she might start calling it home. She looked perfect in it—like she belonged there in my kitchen, on my couch, and in my bed.
But, I knew that wouldn’t actually happen.
I remembered the rain, being in it, asking for a sign from Laurel that I could love Hollie.
Then I walked into my cabin to hear her singing a song I’d all but banished from my home, dabbing my son’s face like he was from her own womb.
Bossing me into the shower. Laying with me.
My memory was patchy, but I had enough evidence to know we would hurt when we pulled apart.
We were meant to be together. All of us.
Funny, I’d once called these cabins too small for a full-sized family. And now, I could see us fitting just right—nice and snug.
I had to tell her how I felt.
Even if it changed nothing.
As if on cue, the back door slowly opened, and out came a very pale Hollie.
Her hair was wet from a shower and a fresh pair of my clothes hung on her body.
I wasn’t sure why her wardrobe had fused with mine, but I wouldn’t complain.
Her in my clothes was a sight I never wanted to stop seeing.
The bewilderment on her face was so cute, I couldn’t help but smile at her.
Being sick together in my cabin shouldn’t have been intimate, but in a small way, it was.
It made us feel like family, which was a confusing but welcome feeling.
We made small talk for a few minutes as she soaked in the sun and the laughter of our kids.
A weak smile pulled into her cheeks. I made her a tiny plate of food, and she ate it all then asked for more, her face already brighter.
And even though I loved seeing the light return to her eyes, I dreaded what it meant.