Chapter 21
Leon
All day, Auggie and I manage to keep our hands to ourselves. Part of that is because we’re working hard, totally in sync, and when Auggie focuses, he can do anything.
The other part is … well, I feel like shit.
I’m still not sleeping, and every day there’s a headache sitting at the base of my skull, making it difficult to concentrate.
My limbs are heavy and my throat feels scratchy, but I push on because I never get sick.
Ever. I don’t have the time for that shit.
“All done,” the plumber says as he steps out of the master bathroom. “Let the second coat of that waterproofing dry, then you can tile when you’re ready.”
I nod, barely able to process his words. He shakes hands with Auggie, who walks him out, and I turn back to the room.
We’ve covered off so much, but there’s still a lot to do.
And that’s just here. Not to mention that I need to go check on the worksites this afternoon, get final sign-off on the architect’s plans on the shopping build, start working out advertising for positions, confirm insurances, and make sure we’ll have all the supplies lined up and ready for when we need them.
My head throbs, and I let my eyes fall closed.
There’s an end point. A date, maybe far in the future, but getting closer every day, where this will be all behind me. The house will be done, and the damn complex will be built, and I’ll be able to go back to making things manageable again.
Tiredness sweeps through me.
Maybe I could send Auggie home early and sneak in a quick nap? I could make up some shit about being ahead and … Yeah, he’s not going to believe that. He’s a bit of a mess sometimes, but he’s not an idiot.
I run through my mental list again, knowing there’s no way I can slack off yet. Nope, I’m … fine. Or I will be.
“You okay?”
I jerk upright, suddenly aware I’d been leaning against the wall with my head in my hands. “Yep. Totally fine.”
Auggie eyes me. “It’s past lunch. You hungry?”
“Nah, you go down. I’m going to get some more done here.”
His laugh is dry. “It’s like you’ve forgotten our deal already. You don’t take a break, I don’t take a break. And I’m starving, so we’re definitely taking a break.” He reaches up to grab my shoulders and steers me out the door.
“Auggie, I—”
“Don’t have a choice,” he sings.
I have no clue how he does it. How his complete lack of stress somehow flows through onto me.
I’m no less worried about the things I have going on, but for some reason when Auggie pretends like everything’s okay, I believe him.
The thought of taking time to eat feels like way too big of a sacrifice with the limited time I have, but then Auggie says I can do it …
and like that, it’s the most achievable thing in the world.
That can’t be healthy.
We reach the kitchen, and Auggie pulls two containers out of my fridge that he starts to heat in the microwave.
“What’s this?”
“Our lunch.”
“You made lunch for me?”
He flutters his pretty eyes at me over his shoulder. “Don’t get excited. I made way too much dinner, so brought the leftovers.”
It’s some kind of stew, and it actually smells incredible. “You cook?”
“A handful of things.” When he decides mine is ready, he takes it out and hands it over. “Some of us actually have kitchens we can use.”
“Okay, smart-ass.”
We take our lunch out to the back deck, and as I settle in, it occurs to me it’s the first thing I’ve eaten all day. And even though it tastes amazing, I barely have the appetite for it.
I force it down anyway.
Because I refuse to believe I’m getting sick.
The rest of the day passes way too slowly, and by the time Auggie leaves, it’s like my head is full of cotton wool. My ears are all blocked up, and the headache has spread down my neck into my shoulders.
I sag against the wall in the hallway, grateful the day is almost over.
All I need to do is make my way into the kitchen, take some drugs, then haul my ass up to bed. Easy.
Not easy.
My body protests every movement, and by the time I make it upstairs, strip off, and fall face-first onto my mattress, my whole face hurts as well.
I just need the drugs to kick in. That’s all. Once the pain is gone, I’ll be able to get up and keep going.
Get up and work more.
Make dinner.
Plan ahead
Instead, my eyes close, and I’m out.
“Leon!”
I cringe as someone taps my cheek, but even that small movement is painful. It’s ridiculously hot, but I swear my limbs are vibrating. The headache has increased to the point I don’t want to open my eyes, so I turn and burrow my face into the pillow instead.
A cold washcloth hits the back of my neck, and I jolt at the sharp contact. It’s too much. And I want to tell whoever it is to get it off me, but the fire taking over my body also feels like it’s burning up my throat.
“Shh … hey, it’s okay.”
I groan. “Auggie?”
My blanket is pulled from my body, and I have just enough presence of mind to remember I at least have a pair of briefs on. Not that Auggie hasn’t seen me naked before. Not that it’s something I care about now.
“Here, take this.”
I tilt my head toward the sound of his voice and open my mouth, hoping he’s got some drugs there for me.
“Nope, sit up.”
“Can’t.”
“Come on, you big baby.” Auggie rolls me onto my back, then helps me sit up against my pillows. I finally crack my eyes open, and I’m glad Auggie has done something to cover the window, because the light is dim.
“I’m not sick” are the first dumbass words that leave me. Clearly I’m sick. Something nasty has hit me hard, but I still refuse to acknowledge it.
“Of course you’re not.”
“I’m not.”
“Mhmm. Well, take these not-painkillers, have some water, and then let’s get to work.”
I try to do what he said, but Auggie feels about a million miles away, and even as I force the drugs down, I can’t manage to bring myself to drink anything. The pills slide thickly down my sore throat.
“Okay, let’s do this.” Auggie claps his hands once, and the sound makes my head throb.
Still, I try to get out of bed and somehow end up face-planting on the floor.
He laughs.
At me.
“Aaand that’s what I thought.” He rolls me back onto the mattress, and I blink up at him, bringing his face into focus.
“I just need to wake up more.”
Auggie presses a cool palm to my forehead, and I lean into the touch. “No, you need to see a doctor. You’re burning up.”
“M’fine.”
“Of course you are.” He picks up my hand, and at first I think he’s holding it, but then he presses my thumb to my phone. “Now, what’s the doctor’s name again?”
“Grivick,” I say, finally giving in.
Auggie leaves the room to make the phone call, and I have no idea how long I’m dipping in and out of consciousness for. All I know is I’ve never felt this shit in my life.
And of course it has to hit now. Now, when we’re actually getting ahead.
“Nurse Auggie is back,” he sings, pressing another cool washcloth to my forehead. I don’t answer him, which apparently doesn’t matter because he keeps chattering about who knows what.
My concentration is a mess, and my brain won’t focus. Not even when Cam shows up to check me out, and I kinda want to tell them both to get out of my damn room, but instead, I roll onto my front to avoid them.
I know I look and probably smell like crap, but there isn’t a part of me that cares.
“Come on, big guy,” Cam says, and there’s pressure under my arms as they haul me to my feet. A shirt is pulled over my head, and I’m vaguely aware of my feet being lifted as they dress me.
Not humiliating at all.
They get me out to Auggie’s car, and all the movement makes me slightly more aware of the world but sorer than ever.
“Where are we going?” I ask when Auggie climbs in beside me. He better not think I was serious about working before because I can barely lift my arms.
“To pick up some flu medication, then my place. Cam said you’ll be like this for a couple of days.”
I grunt and drop my head against the window.
Days?
I don’t have days.
I’d argue again that I’m fine, but I know when I’m beating a dead horse. And staying at Auggie’s place isn’t ideal, but maybe if I’m a good boy and take my medicine, tomorrow I’ll be ready to get back into it.
Tomorrow.
Yes.
That’ll work.