24. Mia
MIA
The knock at my door did nothing to diminish the pounding in my head. “Come in,” I said automatically. At my last foster home, I hadn’t been allowed to ever lock my door, so I often forgot to.
Not that I felt I needed to here.
Diego poked his head into the room.
Crap. Maybe I was going to have to rethink my door-locking policy.
I pushed myself up and leaned against the headboard, pulling the covers up to my chest. It was so cold in here.
“Can I come in?” Diego asked. His voice was hesitant.
“It’s really not a good time,” I began.
“Cody called. He said you weren’t feeling well.”
Oh. My head hurt too much to focus on that. I gestured for Diego to enter. He did, carefully leaving the door wide open as he took a few steps forward, as if I might bite him or something.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Just tired. It’s a busy time of the semester.”
“You look pale.” His dark eyes studied me relentlessly. “And also somehow flushed at the same time.”
Great. Just what I wanted when I wasn’t feeling well—a critique of my looks by a guy who’d had a full-blown freakout when he’d realized I was the woman he kissed. “Look, Diego, I really don’t think—wait, Cody called you?”
“He was worried.”
I couldn’t quite wrap my aching head around that. “Cody talks to people on the phone?”
“He does now, apparently.” Finally, Diego looked away. “Do you need to go to the student health center?”
“No,” I said firmly. “I’m just tired.”
He jerked his head to the right. “In that closet by the bathroom, there are thermometers, painkillers, cold medicine, and, uh, pregnancy tests.”
My jaw dropped as both embarrassment and shock hit.
I took to bed during the middle of the day one time, and that was where his mind went?
“Pretty safe to say I can rule out that last one,” I said to the top of his head because he was carefully studying the floor.
Not that it was any of his business, but I was feeling too crappy to choose my words carefully.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked, still looking away, like it was too much to look at me directly after mentioning pregnancy tests. And he was supposed to be the grown-up around here. He hadn’t shown many signs of it since we’d gotten little Liam bathed and in his crib the other night.
“I’m fine.”
Finally, his eyes met mine. “Mia, you don’t look fine. Let me take you to the health center.”
“I am fine. And if I need to go, I’ll go on my own.”
“Okay. Let me see you stand up, then.”
“I told you, I don’t need to go there.”
“All right. But I want to see you stand up, anyway. Cody said you were dizzy.”
“Cody should mind his own business.” Except it seemed like he normally excelled at that. I didn’t quite know what had gotten him to change his patterns.
“He was worried about you. I’ve known him for almost a year and a half, and I’ve never seen him worried about anyone before. So now I’m worried, too, and I’m not leaving until you stand up.”
Good god, he just wouldn’t give it a rest. I kicked off the covers, ignoring the throb of pain in my leg. Then I slid to the edge of the bed and pushed myself to my feet.
And then rapidly sat back down again, holding my head to keep it from spinning.
“I’m taking you to the health center,” Diego said.
The chairs in the waiting room were hard plastic and seemed designed to torture an enemy rather than to soothe the sick. I’d never been here before, and I’d never been to any doctor’s office with a man at my side.
But he just refused to leave.
At least he wasn’t insisting that we talk about things. That would’ve made the situation a whole lot w?—
“Mia, we need to talk.”
I groaned, putting my head in my hands. I wanted to shake my head, but that would’ve made the headache worse.
“Or you can just listen, but there are some things I need to?—”
“I yelled at my boss today,” I interrupted, feeling rather desperate to stop whatever he was going to say.
Diego paused, and I could feel his eyes on me. “At the coffee shop?”
“Yes. I wasn’t feeling well, and I snapped at her, and she got all upset.”
“Are you going to get fired?”
“I don’t think so.” With my head still in my hands, I told him about Zoe’s worries about her lack of an internship. “I kind of forgot that other people have rough roads to travel—not just former foster kids.”
He was silent for a moment. “Everyone’s dealing with something.”
“I have to be honest that I didn’t like her much before this. But now I feel sorry for her. She’s good at what she does, and she deserves a chance.”
“Maybe she should make her own chance.”
“What do you mean?” I finally turned to look at him, but that was a mistake. This stupid headache just wasn’t going away, and any movement made it worse.
He leaned back in the poorly designed chair.
“When I first moved into Baylor House, there wasn’t a residential advisor.
We all just fended for ourselves, and most of us had never lived on our own before, and it wasn’t pretty.
A lot of meals consisted of grilled cheese and potato chips.
And no one ever replaced the toilet paper when it was out, and that was just the tip of the iceberg.
So I wrote a letter to Richard Baylor and said that we needed some guidance.
A little help to get us on the right track. ”
“What did he say?” I was intrigued in spite of myself.
“He agreed, and his staff hired an upperclassman to be the RA, and she was even less organized than we were. And she was too busy with her senior year to care much about it. So I wrote back to Richard and told him he needed to hire me. I outlined the ways I’d helped younger foster siblings growing up and told him I was the right man for the job. And he agreed.”
Oddly enough, I could see him doing that. “So… you basically created the job and then asked for it.”
“Not basically, exactly. Maybe your boss could try that, too.”
“But how? She can’t just go to some fancy hotel and say, ‘I want to intern here.’”
“Why not?”
“Because… just because.” But I couldn’t help thinking about his story. “Even if she did that, she’s already applied everywhere.”
“She’s applied to the places that already offer internships,” Diego said gently.
“Not tried the ones that don’t. There’s this place way up in the mountains, a ski resort for the mega-rich.
People in town refer to it as the Aspen of the Appalachians.
Maybe she could try there? I’ve never been there, but Aaron has. You could ask him about it.”
“Thanks,” I said. It was a little hard to follow his words, but I made a mental note to do that. I’d misjudged Zoe and upset her, and I owed it to her to do what I could to help.
Then they called my name. I stood up quickly, which was a mistake. The waiting room spun in a drunken circle.
Diego sprang up, steadying me. But the last thing I wanted right now was him touching me. Not when things were so awkward between us. And not when my skin felt so heated and flushed and gross.
I took two steps, and then my leg buckled.
Why was it so hard to walk? I’d had no trouble walking around campus this morning.
Well, I’d had less trouble than I did now.
Diego pulled my arm around his shoulder and slung his around my waist, and I leaned heavily on him. There wasn’t much other choice.
We followed the nurse into an exam room, and he lifted me up and set me at the edge of the exam table.
Then he stepped away, clearly intending to go to the door.
But I slumped to the side, and he jumped back, supporting me again.
What the hell was wrong with me? It was like I was drunk or something.
And being drunk around Diego hadn’t ended very well the last time. Though it had felt great at the time.
“Your boyfriend can stay,” the nurse said as she brought over a blood pressure cuff. Wait, my what now? She fastened the cuff tightly on my upper arm, and said in a loud stage whisper, “He’s so handsome!”
Oh god.
Every time I thought this day couldn’t get any worse, it did. I was careful not to look up at Diego, but since I was currently slumped against his chest, it was embarrassing anyway.
After that, things happened quickly. The nurse proclaimed that I had a fever, and that was why I was so loopy. Was loopy a medical term?
The doctor came in and asked some routine questions. “Any cuts or scrapes recently?” he asked, pulling on gloves. “Open wounds that might have gotten infected?”
I shook my head.
“She’s limping,” Diego said.
The doctor made me lie back on the exam table and asked which leg hurt. He touched my right one, and nothing happened. Then he touched my left leg, and I screamed.
“That’s the one,” the doctor said. “Can I roll up your pants on that side?”
I stared dazedly at the ceiling while the doctor examined my leg, every touch painful.
Diego stood by my side, holding my hand, and kept up a steady stream of stories about how the other residents of the Baylor House had eventually started listening to him as he whipped the place into shape.
I couldn’t focus very well, but somehow, it was nice to hear his calm, steady voice.
“When did you get this cut?” A male voice cut in. Oh yeah, it was the doctor.
“What cut?”
“On your calf.”
Diego sucked in a sharp breath, wincing. Maybe it was good I couldn’t see it.
“I don’t know,” I said. “The other day.”
The doctor waited. “You don’t know, or you do?”
“I was babysitting. He was so cute.”
“She means the baby,” Diego said.
“And… I went out on the front porch, and there was this old metal porch swing, and when I sat down, I felt a sting.”
“I see. Was your leg uncovered at the time?”
“No, I was wearing pants.”
“But your pants were rolled up from helping give the baby a bath.” Diego swore under his breath, and I looked up to see his guilt-stricken expression. Why? He hadn’t made the porch swing old and rusty.
Oh. But he was the reason I’d gotten upset and gone out there in the first place.
Then, there were just phrases floating in the air.
An infection… a shot… antibiotics… bedrest… elevate the leg…
Then I was in a car. How had I gotten here? Where had the clinic gone?
Diego had his hands on the wheel. “How are you doing? I have your medicine.”
“Thanks.” I leaned my head against the window but then sat up straighter. “Did the doctor say I have cellulite?” That seemed rude.
“Cellulitis,” Diego corrected, sounding a little amused. “A skin infection.”
Oh. That sounded less insulting.
“Mia, about that night we babysat—” The rest of his sentence was lost as I closed my eyes.
When I opened them, I was in my bed, the door to my room was open, and Aaron sat at my desk. “Hey,” he said.
“Hi. When did you get here?” I blinked blearily. “Wait, when did I get here?”
“Diego carried you in.”
Oh. That was weird. Except I’d been in his arms before. At the party. During the scavenger hunt. A new thought occurred. “I need to take the medicine.”
“You already did.” He gestured toward a glass of water and a prescription bottle on the desk.
“Oh.” I wondered what else I’d done while I was out of it. It was a bit much to hope I’d done my homework.
“How do you feel?”
I squinted, trying to take stock. “A little better?”
“Do you think you could eat something?”
“Maybe later.”
“Okay.” He got to his feet and brought over a pillow.
Was he going to smother me? I was still a bit loopy, as someone had called me earlier.
“You’re supposed to keep your leg propped up.
We put you on the bed, but we didn’t feel comfortable…
” He cleared his throat. “If you can move the covers, and lay flat, I’ll put pillows under your leg. ”
I could do that. I tugged at them and then kicked them off with my good leg. Aaron leaned across the end of the bed, his face serious. He’d been on my bed once before. “Does it look gross?” I asked as he gently grasped my calf and lifted it.
“They cleaned and bandaged it at the health center.” He put a pillow lengthwise under my leg, and then another one under my ankle. “How does that feel?”
His hands on my bare skin felt good. But I didn’t tell him that because maybe that wasn’t what he meant.
Aaron arranged the covers back over me and sat down at the desk. One of his textbooks was next to him. “Okay if I stay for a while?”
“Sure.”
I closed my eyes.
But then I opened them again when the door across the hall opened. Raymond stepped out and did a double-take when he saw me. “Are you okay?”
“Not really,” I said sleepily.
He took a hesitant step forward. “Are you… is it your period?”
That woke me up. “Not every health issue a woman has involves her periods.” My voice somehow sounded both spaced out and angry.
Aaron was disgusted. “Get the fuck out of here, Raymond.”
Raymond backed away without another word and disappeared down the hall.
“Sorry,” Aaron apologized. “That guy just bugs me sometimes.”
Me too, I wanted to say. But the room drifted and faded to black.