Chapter 13
Stefan
I woke up sometime later. I wasn't sure of the time, but the sun was fully up, shining through the window.
I tried to sit up but had a whole lot of fucking problems doing that.
For one thing, my chest was on fire. As was the rest of my body. I touched my forehead and sighed. “Fuck.” I had a fever. Even I could tell that. And it wasn't just a small one. My head felt like the top of a fucking stove.
When I finally managed to sit up, the whole room moved, and I felt like I was going to vomit.
I pushed to standing and grabbed my cane that was propped against the wall. I hadn't needed it for a while. But I sure as fuck would today.
Somehow, I made it to the bathroom and back. Then I decided to take Francesca's advice and drink something. Maybe that would help. The lukewarm water still felt cool going down my parched throat. I gulped down half the glass before setting it down again.
Fuck.
I felt like shit. I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. After I surfed around, I found a channel with the time. It was one in the afternoon. Christ, I'd been asleep for hours. That couldn't be a good sign. Neither was the fever.
Or the fact I was fighting not to hobble to the bathroom to eject the water I'd just had.
Suddenly, just like the gods had heard, Francesca walked through the door.
“Hi, I—” she started to say before her eyes landed on me and the smile on her gorgeous face fell right off.
“Oh, no.” She shut the door quickly and came to my side.
She touched my forehead and winced. “Crap. Lay down. Let me look at your wound.” She helped me lay down and then opened my bandages.
“Crap, crap, crap. It's infected.” Her eyes stared into mine.
“You need to go back to the hospital. They'll give you antibiotics for this.” She carefully closed up my bandage and sighed.
The look of disappointment on her face broke my heart.
“I'm fine. I'll be better later. I just need to get some sleep,” I tried to reassure her that I was fine. That I would be fine. Soon.
She shook her head. “This is a big deal, Stefan. You need the proper treatment. You can't fight this on your own,” she said in a calm, cool voice.
“I'm not going there again,” I told her the truth. I wasn't.
She grabbed my hand and kissed it. “I have to go back to work right away. I just wanted to check on you.”
Her lips felt cool on my hand. “Give me Giselle's number, honey. I'll call and she can send the guys over to help take you in. You don't want me to call an ambulance, do you?”
My already hot body grew even hotter. “You're not calling anyone. I'm going to be fine,” I gritted out.
She shook her head and set my hand down. “You have to go in. You're really sick. If you don't get this taken care of right now, you could take a turn for the worse.”
Anger boiled inside of me, thinking about Carlo and Nick inside Francesca's apartment. Trying to help me.
“Fuck, no. You're not calling anyone. I'm not leaving. Grab me some pills from the pharmacy. I don't give a shit what you get me. But I'm not fucking going back to the goddamn hospital!”
She tried over and over again to talk me into getting help. But I refused. There was no way she could force me to go.
Ten minutes later, Francesca sighed and stood. “You're impossible. I'll be back.” She kissed me quickly on the lips and then left.
I wasn't sure how much time had gone by when she came back. I'd fallen asleep to some stupid game show on the TV.
“Give me a few minutes to set this up,” she said, dumping her bag on the bed.
A bunch of things toppled out. Everything looked familiar.
IV bags, gauze, tape, and some other shit.
Then she stepped up to a picture I hadn't even looked at and removed it from the wall.
After that, she hung a big clear bag and a much smaller bag on the nails in the wall.
I watched her hurry to the kitchen to wash her hands. When she finished, she put on a pair of gloves and opened up quite a few packages. One being a longer needle.
She swiped the back of my hand with an alcohol wipe and carefully inserted the needle.
“Got it!” she exclaimed proudly, with a huge smile on her face.
Fuck, she was so incredibly beautiful. She started taping the needle to my hand and organizing a bunch of other shit.
My eyelids were too damn heavy to keep open. So, I closed them for a while.
“Stefan, open up,” I heard Francesca's beautiful voice float into my ears.
Opening my eyes seemed like a hell of a chore, but I did it.
She sat there with a cup in one hand and a spoon in the other.
She spooned something cold into my mouth and I took it.
The small ice chips melted almost instantly inside my mouth.
“Good, take some more,” my angel said, giving me more cold ice.
She kept that up for a few minutes until she said, “We have to get your temperature down. Can you swallow these for me? Open up.” She gave me a couple of pills and held a glass of water for me to sip from.
I nodded and did what she asked. The water she gave me was cold, and it felt good going down.
The TV was on low, and it was the only light on in the room.
Francesca stood and walked to the kitchen. She pulled down a bowl from the cabinet. She filled it up and walked back over to the bed.
“Sponge bath time,” she said with a smile on her face. It didn't quite reach her eyes, though. And just from looking at her, I could see the worry she held in them.
Maybe she was right.
Maybe I should have gone to the fucking hospital.
Maybe I was going to die in her bed.
“You're all sweaty. Let's freshen you up a bit, okay?” She set the bowl down and proceeded to wring out the rag. And then she picked up my heavy, leaden arm and started wiping it with the warm rag. Even after just a few swipes, I started to feel better.
Francesca kept wiping me down. My other arm. My face and neck. My torso.
My legs and feet.
A timer went off on her phone and she reached over for it and turned it off.
“I'm giving you another few hours. And if you don't start to get better soon, I'm calling an ambulance.”
I was too tired to fight her on that. Too hot to care.
I closed my eyes and drifted off, half of me hoping I'd get better.
And the other half hoped I didn't.