11. Gavin
GAVIN
She falls asleep again for a little while, using me as a pillow, but then the coughing attacks start coming more frequently.
“Let me take your temp again,” I say as I lean forward to grab the thermometer, careful not to jar her too much. I press it to her forehead and read the digital display. “Still one hundred and two.”
She murmurs something unintelligible.
My pulse quickens.
“Vi, we need to get your temperature down.”
“Just want to sleep.” She pulls away and then flops over onto the empty side of the couch.
My chest and side are sweaty from where she’s been pressed up against me. I go back upstairs and find a washcloth, then run it under the cold water. When I get back downstairs with it, she’s sitting up, and for a second, I think she’s maybe feeling better but then her eyes widen with panic.
“Oh no.” She stands quickly and wobbles. “I’m gonna be sick.”
She rushes past me to the bathroom, slams the door, and a second later, I can hear her heaving into the toilet.
I pace outside. I want to give her privacy, but I’m also concerned. When the toilet flushes, I knock on the door. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Go home, Gavin.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Violet.”
She doesn’t respond.
“Can I come in?”
“I’m just resting a second. I’ll be right out.”
Resting?
“I’m coming in, Violet.” Turning the handle, I open the door slowly to give her time to protest.
Violet’s sitting on the floor next to the toilet, her back leaning against the wall, hugging her knees to her chest.
“You’re shaking.” I take two big steps to get to her.
“S-so c-cold.” Her teeth chatter on each word.
I don’t think. I scoop her up off the floor and hold her protectively. Tears fall down her cheeks and her body is slick with sweat.
“I got some on my shirt. I s-smell like vomit.”
That gives me an idea. Instead of going back to the couch, I take her upstairs. I set her down on the vanity in the upstairs bathroom and start the water in the bathtub.
“My mom said a lukewarm bath helps break a fever.”
“I just want to sleep.” She wraps her arms around her waist.
“I know.” I step back to her and push a lock of hair behind one ear. “Quick bath first, okay?”
Her dark eyes flash with resignation. “Fine, but I’m not getting naked in front of you.”
“I figured. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
“Wait,” she calls before I close the door behind me.
“Yeah?”
“Will you grab me a clean T-shirt? My room is…”
“I’ll find it,” I say.
Violet’s bedroom is all the way at the end of the hallway. I step over the threshold and flick on the light. As light floods the space, I smile.
I walk around, looking at the photos pinned to a cork board. Tons of her, Daisy, Jane, and Dahlia, and a few others with her parents. She has two framed Jane Austen quotes on the wall above a queen-size bed. Her nightstand is filled with half-empty water glasses and a big stack of books.
I could linger, taking in every detail for a lot longer, but I grab a clean T-shirt from the closet and walk back to the bathroom.
“I have your shirt.”
The door opens. Violet stands on the other side with a towel wrapped around her small frame. “Thanks.”
I swallow as my gaze drops to take in her bare shoulders and collarbone. “Yell if you need me?”
She nods and starts to shut me out again, but I stop it with a hand. “Don’t lock it, okay? I won’t come in unless you need me, but I don’t want to have to kick down the door.”
Her brows lift in question.
“Contrary to what you think, Vi, I care about you. If I thought you needed something, I’d do a lot more than kick down a door to get to you.”
When she gets out of the bath, she goes to her room instead of back downstairs. I bring her more medicine and water as she’s getting under the covers. It’s late, after one in the morning. Out her bedroom window, I can see things next door are starting to wind down.
“You missed your party,” she says as I sit on the edge of the bed.
“I didn’t feel like partying tonight anyway.”
She studies me over the rim of the glass as she sips. Once she sets it on the nightstand, she falls back onto her pillows. “And yet you were at a party and had a girl in your room.”
“She came upstairs. I didn’t turn her away.”
She thinks that over for a second. “Since when are you not in the mood to party?”
I lift one shoulder in a small shrug. “I’m going to sleep downstairs in case you need anything.”
She starts to shake her head in protest.
“I’m not leaving you like this by yourself. Even I’m not that big of a dick.”
She snorts a laugh and then groans.
I pull up the comforter around her. “Get some sleep.”
She reaches out to me before I stand, placing her hot, clammy palm on top of my forearm. “Jane has the biggest bed. She won’t mind if you crash.”
I nod. “How come you stayed back when your friends left for spring break?”
“I have a really important school project due next week.” She sighs. “I still didn’t come up with a design. I was supposed to do that tonight, so I could start working on it tomorrow. I’m running out of time.”
“You’ll figure it out, but first, you need to get better.”
Her eyes close. “7-up, grilled cheese, and a day in bed.”
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s what my dad would do when I was sick as a kid. He was usually the one that would stay home with me because his job was more flexible. He’s a terrible cook, but he’d make grilled cheese and we’d watch movies together all day.”
“And 7-up?”
“To help settle my stomach. I don’t know if it really works or if it’s just what he said, but I always felt better.”
“Sounds nice.”
“What did your parents do for you when you were sick?”
I think back to my mom staying home with me.
She mostly let me be and would check in on me.
I have a few other memories of those days, talking to dad on the phone.
It’s one of the few times we talked while he was on the road traveling with the team.
He liked to focus, drown out all the noise, while he played.
I guess I never realized until now that included me and my mom.
Violet is still watching me for an answer, so I push down the hurt of that realization and say, “My mom made me take this awful medicine. I don’t even know what it was—liquid Tylenol, Advil, maybe.
It came in a red bottle and tasted so nasty.
She’d make homemade bread and soup. And when I was feeling a little better, we’d put together puzzles. ”
“Puzzles, really?”
“I freaking love puzzles.”
“I forgot what a nerd you are. You hide it so well.”
“I’m not hiding it. I just don’t really have time for it these days.”
She yawns, covering it with the back of her hand.
“Get some sleep, Vi. I’ll be in yelling distance.”
Her eyes fall closed, but a hint of a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “Just the way I like you,” she says. “Where I can yell at you, I mean.”
“That’s the way I like it too.”