Chapter 17 More Than Enough
MORE THAN ENOUGH
His swollen tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
The taste he experienced was a mixture of what he’d thought rotten eggs swimming in spoiled milk would produce.
His throat did an involuntary constriction and he thought for sure he’d be dashing for the toilet again.
But Brennan realized it was the remnants of his barfing jag rather than his stomach revolting.
He opened his eyes and saw that he was in his gray sweats only, no shirt, the covers thrown half across the bed and on the floor. More covers than he remembered he had on his bed.
Mental inventory of his body said the fever was gone. In the middle of the night he remembered waking up covered in sweat and ditching it all off of him.
He sat up in bed, his ab muscles screaming at him to lie the fuck back down. It was like the longest, hardest, workout of his life. All from bending over the John while exorcizing the beast in his belly.
He moaned when he stood up, tested his balance and assessed it was pretty decent. The worst must have passed. Since he didn’t remember puking up anything blue, the empty Gatorade bottle told him he kept that all down.
Definitely a plus. Now if he pissed blue, there’d be a serious problem.
After he went to the bathroom, and thankfully it was the color it should be, he turned the shower on, then picked up his toothbrush. Just the taste in his mouth alone was enough to make him want to vomit again.
If the past thirty-six hours had been the worst of his life, the five seconds under the hot spray might be the best.
He moaned again, this time in bliss as the water washed away his sore muscles and sweat.
He dunked his head, washed his hair, rinsed, and lathered up his body with soap.
Ten minutes of standing under the hot spray revived him enough to feel almost human when he finally shut the water off.
Since he hadn’t brought a change of clothes in with him, he wrapped the towel around him to return to his room, his hair standing up in all directions from being towel dried.
The minute he walked out of the bathroom door he came face to face with Alana.
His jaw dropped, stunned by the unexpected turn of events.
Both of them had their mouths open. Him from mortification, hers looked to be appreciation as her eyes moved over his mostly naked body. A tiny towel he was holding together with one hand didn’t count in his mind.
If he weren’t feeling so weak, he might be tempted to seize her and take her to his room.
Yeah, no. It probably stunk just as much as he had when the water hit him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
His mind was racing with facts. She’d shown up with a care package. He’d told her to leave, but she said she wanted to make sure he was all right.
In the middle of the night, she’d come in and checked his temperature again with his daughter’s thermometer. He remembered the beep, opening his eyes and then closing them again.
She’d shaken him awake to drink more and take two more Motrin. That was the last thing he remembered in terms of her.
Jesus, did she check on him while he lay spread out on the bed in only his sweats trying to cool off?
“I heard you moving around and came up to see if you were okay,” she said.
“I get that, I meant still here. I thought you would have left?” He looked into his room and noticed it was dark outside the window. “What time is it?”
“Its four a.m.,” she said. “I planned on leaving this morning.”
His fingers tightened on the towel, her eyes moving from his chest back to his face. His cheeks were itching, he had to shave on top of it, but all he cared about was getting clean.
“I’m going to put some clothes on.”
She nodded. “Do you want to eat?”
“I’ll see how I feel when I get downstairs. The fever is gone at least.”
When she turned and went downstairs, he retreated to his room and closed the door.
He opened a drawer for underwear and a pair of jeans. He’d rather put sweats back on but already embarrassed himself enough in front of her.
Once he had put on his pants, he grabbed a cotton shirt and pulled it over his head, running his hands through his hair to put it back in place.
He pulled socks on his feet, the wood floor cold on his toes, then made his way to the kitchen.
The smell of coffee hit him when his feet landed on the bottom. She had a cup in her hands.
“Do you want to try for some?”
“I’d love it,” he said. “I think it will stay down. I need the caffeine hit.”
She handed over her cup and made another. He took it black; she didn’t, so she must have made it waiting for his decision.
She found milk in his fridge and added it to hers.
“How are you feeling? You’re still a little pale but not like you were.”
“I hope to never feel that shitty again,” he said. “Thanks for staying. You didn’t need to. I mean it.”
No one had ever taken care of him like this before.
Well, no one other than his mother when he was a kid. But as an adult? Nope.
“I would have left, but your fever wasn’t coming down and I was worried. I had this fear you were going to pass out and hit your head, knocking yourself out. Anything. I just figured once the fever left I could go, but then I fell asleep on the couch.”
Her hair was disheveled. Not as crazy as his was, but she wasn’t as put together as he always saw her.
She was in jeans like him, a sweatshirt, and bright blue and green socks on her feet.
“I should check in with my mother at some point and see how Becca is doing.”
He just thought of that. He knew Becca was safe and had texted his mother last night to say he was still feeling like shit. He didn’t want her to come over and catch it either and downplayed what was going on with him.
“That would be good,” she said. “But I’m sure they are both sleeping.”
“Where you’d like to be,” he said.
She yawned. “I slept some last night. Though I will admit this is earlier than I normally get up. Do you want to eat something? Even toast?”
“I can get it,” he said.
“Nope. Sit. I mean it.”
“I’ve been lying in bed for over twenty-four hours. The only time I wasn’t was when I was in the bathroom heaving my guts out. I didn’t think I had that much food in me.”
“I want to say it was food poisoning, but that wouldn’t cause the fever,” she said.
“I hope I don’t get you sick. I told you to leave.”
He didn’t want to even think of her going through what he had, let alone Becca.
“And I overruled you to stay,” she said, smirking. “Where is your bread?”
“See, if I made it, I could do it faster.”
She turned to close one eye at him, and he pointed to the bottom drawer to her right. She pulled out the loaf and popped four slices in his toaster and pushed it down.
“Butter or something else?”
“Butter to start,” he said. “The coffee is hitting the spot and not threatening to make a reappearance.”
“Good to know,” she said.
When the toast popped, he moved over to get the butter and a knife, then handed her one too and they each prepared their breakfast.
He got plates down, the two of them moving to the dining room table to eat.
The last thing he wanted to do was admit he needed to plant his ass. He didn’t think it was anything more than going so long with no substance in him.
“I’m going to stay home again today,” he said. “Just to get back to it. I’ll text Kelsey soon.”
“I was going to suggest that,” she said. “Build up your strength and at least nap if you have to.”
“I think I’ve slept enough,” he said. Yet he still felt exhausted. “But I do want to get Becca back this afternoon. I’ll need my energy for that.”
“I could get her if you don’t want to go out,” she said.
“My mother will bring her if I don’t want to, but I appreciate the offer.” He wanted to reach over and grab her hand but didn’t know if he was still contagious. At this point it wouldn’t matter though.
She nodded. “You know how to reach me if you want me to do it.”
He grinned and found himself halfway through his first slice of toast. “I can’t believe how good this all tastes.”
“I easily cook better than toast for a meal, so the bar is pretty low now.”
He laughed and closed one eye at her. “Are you going to cook for me?”
“I’d like to at some point.”
He went with his gut and reached for her hand, covering hers on the table. “I’d like that. If you’re still interested after seeing me like this. It’s a bit much for one date.”
“Two if we count taco night and dancing.”
“I don’t mind counting that if you don’t.”
“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t going to,” she said, winking at him.
They finished their toast faster than he wanted. He stood up to bring their plates to the kitchen.
“This could be date number three,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.
“Hey, my first night here too. Don’t tell anyone I did it after two dates.”
He liked she was joking too.
“How about you come to dinner tomorrow night? I’ll cook as a thank you if you don’t mind Becca being here. I don’t feel right sending her to my mother’s again after being gone for a few days.”
“I don’t mind in the least. I’d love to. Tell me what you want me to bring.”
“Yourself,” he said quietly. “Just bring you and it’s more than enough.”
A shy smile filled her face before she nodded and gathered her things to leave.
He would have loved for her to stay, but that was asking too much.
She’d already given him more than anyone else had.