Chapter 20
JOHN
I’m here to deliver the quote for my brothers, I repeat to myself.
Just because I’ve never done this part of the process for anyone else doesn’t mean I’m making up excuses to see Chad on a sex day.
I’m also telling myself I’m not worried that it’s nearly five p.m. and I haven’t heard from him.
Especially given that a few days ago, he literally broke into my house just to see me, and on Friday, he was waiting in my driveway when I got home from work.
Part of me was disappointed he wasn’t already waiting naked in my room again, but that didn’t stop him from stripping the moment we were inside and dropping to his knees.
Still, he texted me nearly a hundred pictures of his donkeys yesterday, so the silence today is definitely odd.
He probably lost track of time playing with those damn donkeys, or maybe one of them stepped on his phone or something equally ridiculous.
There’s no reason for me to jump to worst-case scenarios.
He’s fine. No one has broken into his house to hurt him.
He didn’t choke on anything. If he’d gone to the farm and something happened there, Wyatt would’ve helped him.
Although Wyatt wouldn’t think to call me. Why would he? It’s not like I’ve given anyone any reason to think I care. I’ve made Chad keep us a secret, which, to my knowledge, he’s done incredibly well.
Was it a mistake that I was so insistent on him moving out? No, I needed space. Besides, he’s too tempting for me to be around, so if he didn’t move out, we couldn’t have sex. It would be way too complicated. Way too much like real husbands.
Still, I worry about him more than I should, which is my own shit to work on.
It’s just… listening to him the other day made me question myself for just a second. Of course I don’t like knowing that he’s scared to be alone in his house. Hopefully those damn donkeys bring him some comfort. I’m sure he won’t know another moment of quiet with them around.
Relief hits me as soon as I pull into the driveway. His Range Rover is parked where it always is.
He’s home.
I’m sure he’s fine.
I get out of the car and walk up to ring the doorbell, but there’s no answer.
It’s old, one of those twist ones that rings an actual bell, so maybe he didn’t hear me?
I can hear the donkeys braying inside in response though, probably knocking into even more shit, so maybe Chad’s got his hands full with them. That’d make sense why he hasn’t called.
I try knocking this time, and still nothing. Fuck. What is he possibly doing in there?
Nerves are eating at me now that he isn’t answering, so I try the handle and it twists, opening for me. I storm inside, ready to scold him for not locking his doors once again. He claims he’s afraid of this house, yet he leaves the house wide open so anyone can come and go as they please.
“Chad?” I call out as I look around, but don’t see him anywhere. The back door is wide open though. Maybe he’s out back setting something up for the donkeys?
A groan pulls my attention back into the living room, and my heart rate spikes even higher when I realize the pile of blankets on the couch is actually Chad, bundled under them with his eyes closed.
His face is flushed, and his brown hair looks damp where a few of the strands are sticking to his forehead, far from the casually styled look he normally goes for.
I drop down to kneel beside him, checking his forehead with the back of my hand to confirm that even though he appears to be shivering under multiple blankets, he’s burning up.
“Chad?” I try again, shaking his shoulder a bit.
Relief floods me as his eyes flutter open, unfocused at first, but eventually his gaze locks on me, and he weakly asks, “John?”
“Hey. How are you feeling?” He coughs in response. “Have you taken any medicine?”
He shakes his head and coughs again. “Don’t have any yet. What are you doing here? I don’t want you to get sick too.”
“I don’t get sick,” I say dismissively as I stand.
“You don’t understand, John. I think this might really be the end. I’ve never been this sick before…” He trails off into another coughing fit, and yeah, it doesn’t sound great, but I think we can try some Tylenol before rushing him to the hospital.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell him.
“Just go, John. Save yourself. I updated my will so you’ll get everything when I’m gone. Take care of Jack and Jenny.” He closes his eyes again and snuggles into the blankets even more.
I freeze at his comment. Did he actually update his will? Or is it the fever talking? That’d be extreme, even for him.
His eyes fly open, and they lock on me. “Oh fuck. I didn’t mean that. I shouldn’t joke about dying with you. I’m so sorry.” He coughs again.
“It’s fine, Princess, I’m used to your dramatics.
” I shake my head and try to focus. Chad clearly needs my help right now, so I quickly make my way outside, and luckily, I have meds in the first-aid kit in the saddlebag on my bike.
I grab what I need and return with a glass of water and some cold medicine.
“Sit up so you can take these,” I instruct, helping him when he doesn’t move fast enough for my liking.
He swallows the offered pills and some extra water after more encouragement from me, then gazes up at me adoringly. “Is this real? Are you really here taking care of me? Or am I dreaming?”
I snort a laugh. “This is real. You should feel better soon.”
“You really are my knight in faded leather. My big, tattooed biker baddie,” he says dreamily as he closes his eyes again. “All mine.”
I don’t know how to respond to that, so I don’t.
I busy myself with putting food out for his needy pet donkeys and refilling their water.
Since I don’t really have anything better to do, I end up washing the dishes in his sink and fixing a loose cabinet door in his kitchen.
I don’t feel right leaving Chad like this, but I want to let him rest a bit more before I wake him up for food.
He only has the one couch he’s lying on in the living room, but there’s a recliner that Phil left in the corner, so I sit there and pull out my phone. This definitely wasn’t how I expected tonight to go, but I feel better here, knowing that he’s okay.
I check my emails and hit like on the picture Liam sent of him and Blake on a boat.
The back of my neck prickles like someone’s watching me, so I look up expectantly at Chad, but he’s asleep, snoring softly.
Maybe this house is creepy. No wonder Phil was happy to up and move south on a moment’s notice.
I nearly jump out of my seat when something wet nudges my elbow. One of the fucking donkeys is resting its head against my chair after sneaking up behind me. I didn’t even realize they could be that quiet.
“What do you want?” I hiss, but it nudges my arm again. “I already fed you. Leave me alone.” It makes a loud braying sound, and I swear it’s glaring at me for attention. “Well, don’t wake him up,” I scold.
The animal tips its chin up as if to say, “It’ll be your fault if you don’t pet me.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
Chad got “pets” that are as needy as he is.
“Fine,” I hiss. “Just this once because your dad is sick.” Your dad? What the fuck is Chad doing to me? I sound like Blake. I give in and scratch its head, hoping it’ll quiet down if it’s getting the attention it’s apparently so desperate for.
I should’ve known better though, because that makes the other one jealous or something, and before I know what’s happening, I’m petting them both. One on each side.
“Now I know I’m dreaming,” Chad’s husky voice startles me. “Are you actually petting my babies?”
I drop my hands. I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting here, but his eyes look a little more focused than they did earlier, and his cheeks are less flushed. “Feeling any better?”
“No.” He pouts. “Everything hurts. My head is pounding. I don’t think I can move. It’s just me and this couch forever now.”
I cross the room to check his forehead again. It’s less hot than earlier. Still, I don’t like seeing him so miserable and feeling like there’s nothing I can do to help.
“Have you eaten today?” I check.
“Not hungry.”
“Wrong answer.” I shake my head before heading back into his kitchen. I’m pleasantly surprised to find it fully stocked with food. Chad really must be bored around here with Blake out of town and me back at work.
Not that we need to hang out any more than we already do. I just know he’s a more social person than I am.
I find some chicken noodle soup and heat it up for him. When it’s ready, I don’t bother to ask Chad if he wants to come into the kitchen; I know he won’t want to move any more than he has to, so I take his bowl to the couch and help him sit up again.
“Thank you,” he says gratefully, eyeing the soup like it’s something far more special than it is.
“Yup.”
“Want to watch something with me? I can’t do sex today, but we can still hangout.”
He sounds so hopeful, and I should probably stay until it’s time for his next dose of meds anyway.
I had a new box of it that I’ll leave with him for tomorrow, but I want to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep and miss taking it again with how hot he felt when I got here. So I reluctantly agree. “Sure.”
His face lights up as much as he’s capable of while still being ill. “Really?”
“I’m choosing what we watch though.” He nods eagerly, and I put the hockey playoffs on.
“Oh my God, do you like sports?”
“Of course.” I shrug. I don’t think I’ve ever given him the impression I don’t. But then I realize why he sounds so surprised. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not Liam? Just because he doesn’t like sports doesn’t mean I don’t.”
His eyelids are still heavy as he responds. “I know you’re not Liam. You’re so much better. You’re perfect.”
Something in my chest seems to tighten at his comment, but I’m not ready to think about why, so I just grunt and try to focus on the game.