Chapter Twenty Dane
As good ideas go, I’m not sure where this one ranks in the grand scheme of things.
I check my phone for the fourth time since I arrived on Eliott’s doorstep.
Her car is parked outside and, according to the last message she sent me, she got home not even twenty minutes ago.
In theory , she should still be awake. Twenty minutes is barely enough time to change into something comfortable and dive under the blankets.
But I’ve been ringing her doorbell for the last five minutes and she’s still not come to the door.
I should go. She’s probably sleeping. She needs to be sleeping given how awful she’s currently feeling. I’m starting to doubt that this was even a good idea in the first place.
Turning up at her door unannounced when she’s already told me that she feels like death? Yeah. Definitely not my best idea.
I take a step backwards just as the front door is yanked open and I find myself standing face to face with Eliott.
She’s wearing an oversized hoodie and a pair of ratty old sweatpants.
There’s a fluffy blanket draped over her shoulders and she has two wads of tissue paper stuffed up her nose.
Her skin has a thin sheen of sweat stuck to it, and there are noticeable bags under her eyes.
I feel my lips curve upwards into a grin as she glares at me.
‘You weren’t exaggerating about the whole death thing,’ I say as she steps aside for me to enter the house.
Still looks gorgeous, though.
‘Ha, ha,’ she manages to croak out, her voice as rough as sandpaper. ‘What’re you doing here?’
I lift the plastic bag in my hands. ‘I’m here to take care of you.’
‘Wh—’ Eliott breaks out into a brutal coughing fit before she can voice her question, and I take the opportunity to shove her into the living room and onto the couch. She protests weakly but otherwise seems content with letting me get her settled onto the sofa.
‘You just rest here,’ I tell her as I pluck the blanket off her shoulders and drape it over her once she’s settled on the sofa. ‘Give me twenty minutes in the kitchen.’
Her eyes narrow a fraction. ‘To do what ?’
‘I told you,’ I say with a grin, already backing out of the kitchen. ‘I’m taking care of you tonight.’
She sinks into the cushions and blinks up at me with weary eyes. ‘You don’t have to do this, Dane. I can take care of myself. It’s just a—’ Her shoulders heave as she explodes into another coughing fit. ‘It’s just a cold. It’s not a big deal.’
I don’t know what it says about her that I can tell she truly means it. She genuinely thinks that it’s not worth my time to be here, taking care of her. And I don’t know what it says about me that I’ll do whatever I can to make sure she never feels like that ever again.
‘You’re not well,’ I say firmly, placing the back of my palm against her forehead. She’s burning up. ‘Let me take care of you.’
‘But—’
‘I want to take care of you,’ I say, choosing a different tack. I think this one works because her eyes widen slightly and her cheeks darken just enough for me to notice.
She gives me a small nod. ‘All right.’ She swallows. ‘You can take care of me.’
‘Good.’ I flash her a grin and then make my way to her kitchen. ‘I’ve got two things for you,’ I call as I tug a thermos out of the bag and then start rifling around her cupboards until I find what I’m looking for.
Eliott looks at me with poorly concealed suspicion when I return to the living room. ‘What’s in there?’
I hand her the thermos and she gives it a tentative sniff. Recognition starts to dawn in her eyes, but she’s not quite there yet.
‘What is this?’
‘I’m not entirely sure,’ I tell her earnestly. ‘Gloria told me to make it for you. Said it helps with colds.’
Eliott pulls a face, her cute nose wrinkling as the penny finally drops. ‘Oh God, I know what this is. It’s her remedy. She swears by it. When I was growing up, if I so much as sneezed in her presence she’d make me drink a shot of it.’
‘Does it work?’
Eliott groans as she slumps further into the sofa.
‘Yes? No? Maybe? I don’t know. It’s disgusting, but tell her it doesn’t work and she’ll just say “ you’re not dead, are you?
” like there’s some correlation and—’ She stops herself abruptly mid-sentence and looks at me, her eyes shining. ‘You got this from Nan?’
I nod as I pull the lid off the thermos and start pouring the brown liquid into the two shot glasses I grabbed from the cupboard. ‘I called her. You don’t mind, do you?’
‘No— I— Why ?’
I let a mischievous grin take over my face. ‘That’s part two. First…’ I nod to the shot glasses on the coffee table and she immediately shakes her head.
‘No. Absolutely not,’ she says, trying to inject some sternness into her voice. She’s so bunged up, she ends up sounding more like a toddler than anything else. I ignore her and slide a shot of Gloria’s remedy to her.
‘Drink up.’
Her eyes slide to the remaining glass and she looks at me expectantly.
It’s weird. She doesn’t have to say a word, but I know exactly what she’s asking.
I hand her a glass and then lift my own.
We loop our arms around each other and catch each other’s eye.
Hers are tired and low, but there’s a spark there when she meets mine.
I don’t think I could ever get bored of looking into her eyes.
The corners of her lips lilt into a soft grin and she nods. ‘Ready?’
‘Ready.’
We both lean forward and bring the glasses to our mouths.
In one smooth gulp, the liquid is burning its way down my throat faster than any alcoholic drink I’ve ever tasted.
Eliott splutters as she reels back, clapping her chest as she goes.
‘Ugh. Just as bad as I remembered.’ She leans back into the sofa and I follow, letting her flop her head onto my shoulder.
‘It was pretty rough,’ I cough, my throat still scratchy from the liquid. She shivers suddenly and I reach out for the blanket to drape it over her again. As I move, I brush against some exposed skin on her arm and, once again, feel that same heat I felt on her forehead. ‘Baby, you’re burning up.’
She groans and burrows further into the little nook by my shoulder. ‘Doesn’t feel like it. I feel cold.’
She wraps an arm around my waist and rests her head just below my heart. I wonder if she can feel it. The erratic thuds that come from her being so close. If she can, she doesn’t say anything.
‘Why’d you call Nan?’ Eliott asks, her voice muffled by my own sweatshirt.
I tug the blanket over her and run my arm up and down her side. ‘Wanted to get the recipe for that soup you like.’
‘What soup?’ Her voice is tired and faraway, like she’s halfway to falling asleep already.
‘What did Gloria always make for you when you were younger and feeling sick?’ I ask.
She doesn’t answer right away and, for a second, I think she’s finally fallen asleep. But then she lifts her head and her eyes are watery. ‘Nan’s chicken and dumpling soup?’
I nod. ‘It probably won’t be as good as the original, but I followed her recipe as best I could.’
‘Dane.’ Her voice cracks and I can’t tell if it’s because of her cold or something else. ‘How did you—’ She cuts herself off and shakes her head. ‘I don’t even remember telling you about that.’
‘You mentioned it once,’ I say with a shrug. Two years ago, but still.
A range of emotions flit across her beautiful face before she settles on a soft smile. ‘Thank you.’ She tucks her head back into the nook underneath my arm and I tighten my hold around her side.
‘You don’t have to thank me.’
‘I know. But I wanted to.’
‘Want me to warm up your soup?’
‘Not yet,’ she murmurs, her fingers tracing soft circles on the fabric of my shirt. She drapes a leg over my thighs and I instinctively bring my hands up to knead at the soft skin. ‘Can we just stay like this for a little longer?’
Before I can think twice about it, I lean in and press a soft kiss against her temple. She doesn’t freeze. Doesn’t jerk away. Doesn’t tell me off for tiptoeing over the precarious boundary lines between us. She just snuggles in closer and rests her head above my heart.
‘Do you remember when you asked what are my favourite things to photograph?’ Eliott asks quietly.
‘I do.’
‘It’s moments like this,’ she whispers, her fingers still flexing against the fabric of my shirt. ‘The quiet moments.’
I thought I’d understood it before when we first spoke about it, but I’m looking at it with a new clarity now. Because I understand wholeheartedly what she means.
I want this moment to last forever.
‘You’re sure you made this?’ Eliott asks, her spoon hovering over her near-empty bowl. ‘You didn’t just strong-arm Nan into doing it for you?’
‘I’ll take that as compliment,’ I laugh, watching as she scoops up the last remaining droplets and shovels them into her mouth. ‘There’s more in the fridge for tomorrow. Probably about two or three more bowls’ worth.’
We’ve spent the last hour curled up on her sofa together. Eliott’s been drifting in and out of sleep and I finally managed to convince her to eat something before she heads upstairs to bed and I leave.
‘Tastes just like I remember,’ Eliott says with a wistful sigh. ‘Nan must really like you. She normally keeps all her recipes close to her chest. Once she joked that her recipe book will be my inheritance.’ She pauses and frowns. ‘I think she was joking, anyway.’
The fact that Gloria apparently likes me enough to part ways with a recipe shouldn’t send a jolt of joy shooting through me, but it does.
Eliott yawns suddenly, which quickly turns into yet another coughing fit, and I feel a sense of guilt. The whole point of me coming over was to take care of her and make sure she gets the rest she needs. Instead, she’s spent the whole time fighting sleep in order to stay awake with me.
‘Come on. You should get some rest.’ I stand up abruptly and stick out my hand.
She hesitates for a fraction of a second before she grabs it and lets me pull her up. Her hand is clammy, yet another reminder of just how unwell she is right now.
‘Do you need any help getting upstairs?’
She rolls her eyes. ‘I told you, it’s just a cold. I can make it—’ Her knees give out and she stumbles forwards, collapsing into my chest.
She’s weaker than she wants to admit right now. I can feel her shaking slightly beneath my touch, and her eyes look dangerously unfocused. I slip an arm around her waist and start leading her up the stairs. ‘I’ve got you, baby.’
‘This really isn’t necessary,’ she protests half-heartedly.
‘Humour me.’
‘You’ll catch my cold.’
I don’t know why she’s still trying to deter me. We’re halfway up the stairs.
‘At this point, I think it’s more than a cold.’ We reach the upstairs landing and she points me to a room at the end of the hall. ‘If you’re still feeling like this tomorrow, you should really make an appointment with your doctor.’
‘I will,’ she promises. ‘I am feeling better already, though.’
‘Gonna tell Gloria it was her remedy.’
Eliott pulls a face. ‘God, please don’t. I’ll never hear the end of it.’
She pushes open her bedroom door and coughs out a dry laugh. ‘This wasn’t how I imagined I’d be bringing you back up here again.’
‘Imagining me in your bed?’ I ask, a teasing brow raised as she crawls under her sheets and immediately wraps her blanket around herself. ‘That doesn’t feel very friendly of you.’ I mean it as a joke, but I think she’s too sick to pick up on it, because she shrugs and extends a hand towards me.
‘Maybe I’m tired of being friendly.’
I’m pretty certain my heart misses a beat or two. ‘Eliott.’
‘Please.’ Her eyes are wide as she wiggles her fingers at me.
Even the tissues stuffed up her nose and the thin layer of sweat coated to her forehead can’t do anything to distract from the fact that Eliott is so goddamn beautiful.
‘Can you just lay with me? Just for a little bit.’ She drops her gaze and her hand at the same time.
‘I don’t really want to be alone right now. ’
And what am I supposed to say to that? No?
‘Five minutes,’ I say as I slide under the blankets with her.
She immediately curls around me, slinging an arm over my waist and intertwining her legs with mine.
My body reacts almost on instinct, snaking an arm around and pulling her in as close as I can get.
The vanilla and cocoa scent in her hair invades all my senses, and it takes every inch of willpower I have not to bury my face in her hair and take a deep inhale.
‘You’re so warm,’ Eliott mumbles, burrowing further under the blankets and into my side. She yawns loudly and her breathing peters out into something shallow and measured.
I’m not sure how long I lie there with her, listening to the soft sounds of her breathing and paying attention to the steady rise and fall of her chest on mine, but eventually I realise that it’s dark outside and the street lamps are on.
I start to extract myself from underneath her, sure she’s fast asleep, but she stirs suddenly and looks up at me with bleary eyes.
‘Dane?’ she mumbles.
‘Yeah, baby?’
Her brows furrow and she leans in before I can stop her and presses a quick, chaste kiss just to the right of my lips. I freeze as her head lolls downwards again and she nuzzles into the crook of my neck. ‘You’re more than enough for me.’
And then she’s softly snoring again like she hasn’t just turned my whole world upside down with one delirious, sleep-deprived sentence.
You’re more than enough for me.