Chapter 10 #2
Magically, her phone lit up with a text. She saw Margo’s name and two words that made her heart sink.
Margo
I’m sick.
No way, me, too. I’ve been vomiting for the last hour.
Three little dots appeared, showing her friend’s rapid response. Then Lilian’s stomach heaved, causing her to focus back on the toilet bowl. When she looked back, a simple message greeted her.
Margo
Babe, we got food poisoning. And I think I know what did it.
No. Lilian thought back to everything she had eaten that day.
Breakfast had been a standard granola bar and water, and then the turkey leg for lunch, and then…
nothing. There had been enough turkey that she’d put it in her cooler and brought it home for leftovers.
She’d finished it off with a turkey sandwich before bed.
Fuck. She and Margo were both sick. There was no way either of them were going to make it to the faire today. But she had a shop to run, a show to be a part of.
At the thought of the long day ahead of her, her stomach kicked out in protest. Nope, not going to happen. At least not now. She laid her head against the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl and sighed.
Before she passed out, she sent one last text out to Hawk.
Can’t come to the faire today. I’ve been poisoned.
When the sun came up, Lilian managed to move herself to the living room couch to watch early morning television with an emergency vomit bowl sitting in her lap. An open bag of crackers and an empty bottle of Pedialyte were next to her.
At exactly seven a.m., her phone lit up with an incoming call. She glanced down and was only half surprised to see Hawk’s nickname. She really wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, but she blamed him for the current predicament, and a vindictive part of her wanted him to know what he had done.
“Hello?” she answered.
“What do you mean you won’t be at the faire today?”
“I told you.”
He snorted. “Come on, Lilian. If you’re sick, then say so.”
“All right,” she snapped, because she’d only gotten one hour of sleep. “I have food poisoning from the turkey leg you got us yesterday.”
A pause followed the accusation, and Lilian felt the delicious sting of justification, followed immediately by embarrassment that she was acting like a child.
“How do you know it was the turkey leg?” The tone was flat but, to his credit, not accusatory.
“Margo is sick, too. And I didn’t eat anything else yesterday.”
“Fuck.” The curse rang out sharp between them, followed by a softer, “Shit. I’m sorry.”
Lilian opened her mouth, ready to let her irritation spill out, but the apology caught her off guard. “Wha—really?”
“This is bad. We had cameras at the faire yesterday, people talking about our food, and now we might have a food poisoning issue on our hands.”
Ah. Of course that’s what he was concerned about. The optics. Hawk was a businessman first. That was why he was good at his job. He cared about the bottom line. She just cared that her stomach hurt.
“Sorry my food poisoning is such an inconvenience to you.”
“No. Shit. That’s not what I mean.” He took a deep breath, and she could easily picture him sitting at his home, coffee mug in hand, ready to handle any crisis that came his way. “Take a sick day. You and Margo. I’ll need to handle this.”
“Okay.” She curled deeper into the cushions of her couch.
He hung up without even a goodbye, but that didn’t surprise her. They weren’t friends. And it was clear she’d opened a can of worms that needed his attention.
She texted Margo to let her know they both had the day off, then she sent a quick message to her mom.
Sick today, don’t know if I’ll be over for Sunday dinner.
Mom
Oh no! What’s wrong, honey? Do you want Dad to come over and help?
The offer was touching. Even after all the treatments, her mom still had enough energy to worry about her. But Lilian couldn’t bring herself to accept it. Her mom needed someone to be with her at all times, even if she pretended that wasn’t the case.
If Lilian could take care of herself, it was one less thing for both her parents to worry about.
I’ll be fine, thanks. Just wanted to let you know.
Mom
And I’ll see if Dad can stop by to check on you.
Lilian flopped down against the plush pillows. A different kind of ache squeezed at her stomach, but it only lasted a second before the urge to vomit overrode it.
The day went by in a blur of sleeping, trying to eat, and lying in a heap on the couch, doing her best not to move. At one point, she switched from the television to The Raven King.
She knew she needed to eat something, but her body had its own form of the French Revolution at the thought of getting up, cooking something, and then eating it.
A knock on the door woke her from another achy sleep.
She blinked, realizing for the first time how dark her house was and that she hadn’t moved from her spot for almost eight hours.
Another brisk knock hit her flimsy door.
Dad, her mind helpfully reminded her. He was checking in on her.
And if she didn’t get up soon, he would probably break the door down to make sure she wasn’t lying prone on the ground.
Which, actually, wasn’t far from reality.
With a groan, she unfolded her limbs from the couch, hugged the blanket around her shoulders, and went to answer the door.
It wasn’t her father. Instead, she saw a broad back covered by a bright red hoodie and khakis. The man was about to leave but turned at the sound of the door opening.
Hawk.
“What are you doing here?” Lilian was acutely aware that her messy bun likely looked like a bird’s nest. And…
oh god, she wasn’t wearing a bra. At least her oversized sweater hid that bit of information.
There was a fine line between cozy-cute-mess and I-hugged-the-toilet-all-day mess. And she was unmistakably the latter.
Meanwhile, Hawk looked like his usual put together self.
The hoodie was new, though. It made him look more casual, and his hair was damp from a fresh shower.
He held up a plastic bag in his hand. At least four metal cans clinked against one another along with what looked like the biggest box of Ritz crackers she’d ever seen.
Which was nice, because she’d thrown up her last batch before lunch.
“I felt bad, so I figured I would check up on you. I brought soup.”
Lilian took the offering, not knowing what to say. She settled for a polite, “Thanks. But how did you find out where I live?”
Hawk had the sense to look chastised by the question. “I asked Alex.”
“Alex?” Lilian repeated, surprised. During their summer practice sessions, she, Alex, and Margo made a ritual of having wine nights afterward. Hearing the other woman’s name was a reminder that she and Hawk had a relationship. Not an antagonistic one like with Lilian. But something else entirely.
“Alex said she would check in on your friend Margo and asked if I could check in on you. But if it’s not okay, I’ll go.” Hawk shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, looking lost. Like he didn’t really know why he was there either.
God, this was awkward. Lilian didn’t want him to see what a mess she (and her house) was. He must have rushed home, showered, and driven all the way out to Tenison. To give her food. She had no idea why he’d decided to do it, but she couldn’t just take the soup and send him on his way.
“Have you eaten yet?”
“No,” he said simply.
“Well, why don’t you come in? It looks like you got enough soup to feed a whole family.”
“Yeah.” He gave an appreciative smile as she opened the door. “I didn’t know what you would prefer, so I got a few options.”
“You really didn’t have to.” Lilian sighed. “I’m feeling better.” Now that her stomach had finally purged itself of all the offending turkey bits.
“That’s good,” he said, “but my guilt wouldn’t let me go home without at least telling you how sorry I was.”
“You should be. I don’t think I will ever be able to look at a turkey leg again.” It was partially a joke, partially the truth. The thought of cooked meat made her stomach quiver. She grinned at him, though, to show there were no hard feelings.
Hawk didn’t crack a smile. He followed her into the kitchen, taking in the old-fashioned cabinets and dated styling.
When her parents had converted the barn into a living space, they hadn’t put much money into the aesthetic.
But she could only imagine what he was thinking.
She lived in a place straight out of a retro farmhouse magazine.
Without a word, Hawk gravitated toward a spot beside the stove that was free of clutter and began pulling out soup cans and crackers. “I did tell you that faire food was bad for you.”
“You did,” she agreed, opening the Ritz crackers and taking a small nibble. “And then you offered to buy me some.”
“Your stomach was practically demanding it.”
Lilian’s eyes widened. “We agreed never to speak about my stomach.”
He smirked at her. “I never signed that contract.”
With her instructions, Hawk wrestled a pot from the cupboards and dumped two cans of chicken noodle soup into it.
Watching him stir the broth while she leaned against the counter reminded her of the days when her mother used to take care of her.
It was a surreal feeling after the role reversal the last few months.
It was… nice to have someone take care of her for once.
Even more surreal was the comfort coming from Hawk.
“So how was the faire today?” She leaned against the counter, doing her best to sound nonchalant.
“Same as always.” Hawk shrugged. “But I suspect what you really mean is how was your bookshop and the show?”
Lilian smiled. “Of course that’s what I mean.”
“Well, we canceled the show and let Logan’s band have the stage for the forty-minute time slot. One Sunday without you won’t kill the momentum,” he said quickly as soon as Lilian opened her mouth. “Don’t worry about it. I already spent half the morning reassuring Alex about it.”